12:49: 0.49 am. The door unlocks. The once cheerful boast of, "I'm home!" was now a slurred grumble, barely audible.
Even so, "Welcome home" came the response that caused Nowaki to hesitate upon arriving to the living room. Kamijou Hiroki sat on the couch, clad in his casual housewear, sipping coffee and marking papers which had their fair share of red markings. Since the couch was faced away from his path, Nowaki wasn't able to see the look of distress upon his lovers face.
"Hiro-san? Why are you still up?"
That name caused Hiroki's mouth to form a smile even though it didn't necessarily meet his eyes.
"Just grading papers, those students.. I swear. If they don't know how to write a proper paper, they shouldn't be in university taking a literature class in the first place!" He fumed, stopping himself from blurting out the truth and regretting it. For he knew they weren't the real reason why he was up at midnight nor why he was so frustrated but he couldn't just say, 'You're home late again.. I thought you said you'd be back by nine. I waited for you.'
Not because it sounded sickenly like those old newlywed brides waiting for their husband to come home from work, but because it wasn't in his nature to say something so embarassing. He was a prideful man and as such, he kept those things to himself.
The chuckle that came along caused his heart to skip a beat as the footsteps moved passed him and straight into the room they shared. The scent of alcohol and cigarettes made him scrunch up his face in distate. Not because he wasn't used to it; but because it smelled like /him/.
He listens to the little things as his pen stops on paper: hears the rustling of fabric, the sound of a latch being opened, closed, the sound of running water, and for the third time since Nowaki walked through those doors, Hiroki let out his breath of air.
He had tried to get his mind off of it. Grading papers(he was probably a lot harsher on the opinion pieces than he should be), cleaning their storage closet(where he had come across those letters that brought him life), skimmed through a few of Bakahiro's books, went out for a two hour power walk, baked a dozen cookies that went straight to the trash(he had unintentionally used an extra ingredient: 'Shit, shit, shit! Cookies shouldn't foam!') and the trash went straight to the shoot where hopefully it didn't explode until garbage day. Then back to grading papers up till this point. He had actually contemplated on giving up and going to sleep, but him and Nowaki barely had anytime together as it was. With himself at work between 7 - 4 and Nowaki from 10-9 on usual days that is. Though the life as a doctor, you never know. His pager could go off any moment so it was best to spend as much time as possible.
He didn't know if they were going to have their time now, anyway. Nowaki sounded plenty tired and perhaps a little tipsy.
Alcohol.. sounded good right now.
He placed the papers down back onto the table and laid his head back against the sofa. Waiting.
Minutes later, Nowaki walked in with a fresh towel over his neck and dark striped pajama pants. He went straight towards the couch where Hiroki had dozed off, placing his arm over his shoulder, "Hiro-san." He murmured causing their eyes to lock, "Come to bed."
"K" Hiroki muttered and moved to stand though the hands didn't leave him. Placing the other arm over Hiroki's shoulder, Nowaki moved to hug him, "Hey, what are you doing bastard?!" He whined, though the relief was evident in the way he relaxed his body. Placing his arms around his neck to hoist himself up, he allowed him to carry them all the way into the bedroom.
It was moments like this which made Hiroki feel settled. Perhaps he was wrong. Maybe nothing was going on. Maybe he was just paranoid. However, the small bruise which was hidden behind a bunch of dark blue baby hair told a different story.