Confessions of a Spockaholic
Hello and welcome to my first non-crackfic Junjou Romantica story! I've been tinkering with this thing on and off for well over two years, and let me say, it feels amazing to finally have it finished. Just a heads up, this story takes place a few years after the current chapter of the manga. If Misaki and Usagi seem a bit OOC at times, it's because I wanted to portray them as having worked through some of their relationship hang-ups and being more open with each other. But also because I wanted to write something fluffy. And this story IS fluffy. Seriously fluffy. It's fluffier than Suzuki-san after a visit to the dry cleaners. You have been warned.
...speaking of warnings, this story contains some language and sexual humor. And schmoop. And long-windedness (I was reading lots of Stephen King books when I started, and I think I was influenced :D )
Hope you enjoy.
I don't own Junjou Romantica and the only profit I make from this story is my fangirl wish-fulfillment.
"You're late."
The dark voice that drifted from the living room sofa was enough to chill Takahashi Misaki in ways that made his walk in the rain seem like a soak in the hot springs by comparison. He gulped softly to himself as he shut the door and pried his sodden sneakers from his feet. No doubt the owner of that voice had calculated down to the second just how late he was. And no doubt he had been using that time to mastermind a suitable "punishment" for Misaki's tardiness. If past experience was anything to go by, that punishment would likely involve Misaki pinned against a wall with a glacially cold hand shoved down his pants.
He squared his shoulders and took a bracing breath before making his way over to the brooding figure on the sofa. Hunched forward with his face cast in a granite mold that not even a month of Monday mornings could produce, Usami Akihiko looked for all the world like the world's most stylish gargoyle. Not even the presence of the giant teddy bear slumped against his side could do anything to dispell the foul aura emanating from him. This was not going to be an easy night.
As if the universe was confirming Misaki's suspicions, a thunderclap rumbled ominously in the distance. Misaki grimaced and mentally shook his fist at the universe before addressing his landlord.
"Sorry about that, Usagi-san."
Misaki stretched his lips into what he hoped was a placating smile. Maybe if he minded his manners and kept Usagi's insecurities to a minimum, he could keep the inevitable groping session from escalating into an all-out ass attack.
"I ended up having to work late. I would've phoned you, but my cell phone died on me, and then things got so crazy-busy that I had no time to borrow another phone."
No response. Misaki winced. Not good. Usagi must be seriously pissed if he wasn't even bothering to lecture him. Judging from the pile of cigarette butts in the panda head ashtray on the coffee table and the tobacco-scented haze surrounding him, Usagi had been brooding on the couch for some time. That in itself struck Misaki as odd. Usually, Usagi preferred to sequester himself in his study and write when the weather was stormy. It was one of the only times he seemed willing to work withoug being nagged or threatened into it. If Usagi was here instead, did that mean he had been waiting for Misaki this whole time?
"I really am sorry. I hope I didn't make you worry too much."
Misaki held his breath as he waited for the other to respond. Finally, Usagi lifted his head. Dark semi-circles cradled the bottoms of his eyes.
"Don't worry about it. I figured you were still working." Usagi said. He reached for Misaki's arm. Misaki walked over to him with the resolution of an outlaw going to the gallows and squeezed his eyes shut. This was it. Any second now, he would find himself sprawled on Usagi's lap, pants yanked down, his netheregions at the dubious mercy of the author's perverted perusals.
But all Usagi did was rub the wet hem of Misaki's jacket sleeve between his thumb and forefinger.
"You're soaked," Usagi said. "You should go change your clothes before you catch a chill."
"Alright, alright."
Misaki cast a backwards glance at Usagi as he started for the stairwell. As usual, the author's gaze was fixed on him, but surprisingly, there was no sign of the usual predatory leer. If Misaki didn't know any better, he could almost swear that Usagi looked...
No. There was no use worrying. He should just be grateful for Usagi's leniency and leave it at that. There was no point in stressing over the fact that he'd gotten off so easily. Or rather, that he hadn't gotten off at all. Not that he'd wanted Usagi to get him off or anything...
...stupid Usagi.
When he returned moments later, wearing his favorite mint green pajamas, Misaki was surprised to see Usagi sitting in the exact position he'd been in when Misaki had left. A fresh, unlit cigarette dangled from his lip. Misaki wondered if he was even aware of it being there. Determined not to be bothered by Usagi's mood, he scooped up Sukuki-san and plopped down on the couch, sitting the bear on his lap.
"You wouldn't believe the day I had" he began.
He strove to keep his tone light enough to distract Usagi from his funk, but not so cheerful that it would grate on his nerves.
"The editorial department sent me to Tomiyama-sensei's house to pick up her manuscript, but she was having such a huge meltdown that it took twenty minutes to get her to let me in the door! Then it took another hour and a half to talk her out of destroying her manuscript on the spot. She just stood there, dangling it over the toilet, telling me she'd drop it if I made any sudden moves. I totally felt like I was a character in a police drama, trying to negotiate with a hostage-taker."
He cast a sidelong glance at Usagi. Usagi wasn't even looking at him.
"Then on my way home, I bumped into a weird old man who wouldn't stop talking about how the government is actually controlled by aliens who are planning on enslaving all humans..."
No response. Misaki rolled his eyes and continued in a dry voice.
"I was actually abducted by one of those aliens as soon I got off the train. In fact, I'm Misaki at all, but his robot look-alike, sent to capture you and take you to the mother ship. The aliens told me to tell you it's time to come home and take your rightful place as King of Perv Planet..."
Usagi gave him a dull look.
"Huh?"
"Is something bothering you, Usagi-san? You seem kinda out of it tonight," Misaki said.
A long pause.
"I'm fine."
"Liar. As if I haven't lived with you long enough to know when something's wrong." Misaki grinned at the older man. "You could say that I've developed a heightened sense of USP...Usa-sensory perception. Get it? USP? Hahaha..."
His nervous laughter dissolved under Usagi's blank stare. He decided to try a different approach.
"Seriously, Usagi-san! What the hell is wrong with you? Are you tired? Then get your ass to bed!" He rose to his feet and extended his hand toward the author. "Here. I'll even be nice and help you up."
Usagi stared listlessly at Misaki's hand for several seconds before grasping it. Rather than stand up, he remained where he was, holding Misaki's hand as gently as if it were a raw egg. Misaki opened his mouth to protest but before he could say anything, a loud blast of thunder blustered across the sky. Usagi's hand contracted painfully around his own, eliciting a sharp yelp.
"Oi oi! Let go, Usagi-san! You're hurting me!"
Usagi released his hand.
"Sorry," he muttered.
Misaki did a double-take. An apology from the Great Lord Usami himself? This was the most disturbing event of all!
"You should be," he grumbled, massaging his tender knuckles. "Just tell me what's bugging you already."
"Don't worry about it. It has nothing to do with you."
"Like hell it doesn't. I'm the one who has to put up with you when you're in a mood."
Another thunderclap resounded throughout the apartment, but this time Misaki just happened to be watching Usagi as it happened. It was a subtle change, but there was no mistaking the tightening of his jaw and furrowing of his brow. Misaki's eyes widened as a sudden rush of comprehension flowed into his brain.
"Um, Usagi-san...could it be that you're afraid of thunder?"
Usagi looked away. Bingo.
"That's it!" Misaki crowed. "You're afraid of thunderstorms. Ha!" He jabbed a forefinger at Usagi's face, a gleeful grin spreading on his lips. "After all this time, I've finally learned your weakness. You—the great Usami Akihiko-sama—afraid of thunder, of all things! That's so..."
The mockery died on his lips the instant Usagi lifted his head to look at him. Gone was the aristocratic arrogance that normally characterized his features. He looked tired, defeated. Misaki sighed. He'd always thought that finding chink in Usagi's armor would be cause for celebration, but the victory somehow felt hollow. Leave it to Usagi to spoil his fun without even trying.
He sat down again.
"Silly Usagi. A grown man shouldn't get so worked up over such a dumb thing." Misaki offered his lover a tentative smile to soften the teasing.
"I'm not afraid of thunderstorms. I just don't care for them," Usagi muttered. "There is a difference, you know."
"Sure, sure. Whatever you say," Misadi said, giving him a couple of condescending pats on the shoulder.
Misaki waited for him to counter but instead, Usagi took the unlit cigarette out of his mouth and set it on the coffee table. Another blast of thunder rumbled outside. A dark look flickered over Usagi's face and Misaki winced inwardly. How had he lived with Usagi for for so many years and failed to notice something so painfully obvious?
"Well, it's not like I can't understand how you feel," Misaki admitted. Seeing that he had Usagi's attention, he rested his chin on the top of Suzuki-san's head and continued. "You know that my parents died during a thunderstorm, right? For the longest time after that, I couldn't listen to the sound of thunder and rain without thinking about the car accident. I would picture it in my mind and wonder how it felt for them to die, if they felt any pain, what their last thoughts were, stuff like that. Then I'd start wondering if there were other kids like me who were going to lose their parents that night..."
"You don't seem to be bothered by them anymore," Usagi pointed out.
Misaki smiled, relieved that Usagi was starting to show more signs of life.
"It's all thanks to Nii-chan," he said. "I tried not to let him know how I felt, but he eventually figured it out when he walked into my room during a rainy evening and found me crying into my pillow. After that, he decided to go out of his way to keep me distracted and happy whenever it stormed outside."
An uprush of warm memories welled up within him at the thought of his gentle and unassuming brother. His smile widened.
"Whenever the weather forecast called for thundershowers, he would gather all the blankets and bedsheets in the house and make them into a fort where we would spend the night. He would let me eat snacks and stay up late-even if it was a school night-and we would take turns telling each other silly ghost stories. After it happened enough times, I actually started looking forward to rainy nights."
"Which is likely what Takahiro wanted all along," Usagi mused.
Misaki nodded.
"He stuck to that tradition all the way up until I started middle school. He probably would have kept it going, but I was the one who called it off. I didn't want his work to suffer because of our late nights, you know?"
Usagi gave him a warm look.
"Of course I know," he said fondly.
Misaki blushed and buried his head into Suzuki-san's synthetic fur until he regained his composure.
"I still think about my parents whenever it rains. I probably always will. But thanks to Nii-chan, I have other things to think about too. He gave me so many memories of camping out in our blanket forts together and telling stupid stories that now when I hear the sound of thunder and rain, I think of how lucky I was to grow up with someone who would go so far out of his way to make me feel safe and cared for in the storm..."
Misaki broke off, aware that he was rambling. Sheepishly, he glanced at Usagi, fully expecting to see amusement at his childish prattling on his lover's face. Instead, he saw an expression so soft, so wistful, it was hard to believe it could come from a face that primarily dished out smirks and scowls.
"Must be nice," Usagi murmured.
There wasn't a trace of bitterness in his voice. It was as if the thought of receiving even a scrap of comfort in a thunderstorm was so foreign that it wouldn't occur to him to resent someone who had grown up with an abundance of it. Come to think of it, had Usagi ever been comforted as a child? Considering the indifference with which he had been raised and his own reluctance to show any weaknesses to others, it didn't seem too far-fetched to believe that he hadn't. And yet, he could sit there and smile at Misaki's own warm upbringing as it if it had been his own. For the life of him, Misaki couldn't decide whether he was to be admired or pitied.
All he knew was that he suddenly wanted nothing more than to cross that ten centimetre chasm between them on the couch, throw his arms around Usagi, and hug him tightly enough to make up for all years he had to endure each flash of lightning, each crack of thunder in solitude.
If only they weren't both guys.
If only it wasn't so embarrassing.
If only he wasn't such a coward.
He stood.
"I think I forgot to bring the laundry in."
"Misaki."
"Crap! I did forget."
"Misaki."
"What is it?"
Usagi fixed him with a penetrating stare.
"How do you make a blanket fort?"
Misaki's mouth dropped. Suzuki-san fell unceremnously on the floor.
"Whuh?!"
"A blanket fort," Usagi said in his "I'm dumbing myself down to accommodate an idiot" voice. "I've heard that they're popular among normal children, but I've never learned how they're actually made."
"Are you freaking kidding me?"
It was all Misaki could do to keep from slugging Usagi over the head with Suzuki-san. To think, he'd been just about to burst into tears over Usagi's lonely childhood, and that airhead had already moved onto blanket forts? He had half a mind to tell the jerk off, but decided against it. The last thing stupid Usagi deserved was the satisfaction of knowing how worried he'd been.
"You gather some blankets and make a fort out of them. It's incredibly simple," Misaki said instead.
"Yes, but I'm looking for specifics. How many blankets do you you use? What size should they be? Queen size? King size? Does the thread count matter? What do you put inside the blanket fort?"
Misaki smacked his palm against the side of his head.
"I can't believe we're having this conversation. I mean, I know you had a messed-up childhood and all, but you're telling me that you've never made a blanket fort before?"
"Is that so hard to believe?" Usagi said wryly.
Misaki shook his head.
"I feel sorry for you, Usagi-san. Hanging out in a blanket fort with someone you're close to is practically a rite of passage for kids," he said.
Usagi gave him a thoughtful stare.
"If you're that concerned about it, you should make one with me," he said.
"Eh?"
"Make a blanket fort with me. Right here in the living room."
"D-don't be ridiculous!" Misaki spluttered. "We're grown men. What could two grown men possibly do in a blanket fort?"
"I can think of a couple of things..."
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Misaki roared at the ceiling.
"...I was going to say, 'eat junk food and tell scary stories,'" Usagi finished. "Isn't that the normal thing to do?"
Yeah right, Misaki thought with a snort. In your case, it would be more like, "eat Misaki and tell perverted BL stories."
Not to mention the future repercussions. If he agreed to it, he might as well phone Aikawa-san right now and tell her that in a week's time, she could expect to find a brand-new manuscript on her desk: Heart Pounding Slumber Party: Misaki Bottoms in the Blanket Fort!
Oh, great. Now he was starting to think like Usagi. He slapped himself on the forehead and prayed for an instant death.
"You're the one who called it a rite of passage," Usagi continued, so accustomed to the outward dramatics of Misaki's inner battles that he hardly paid attention to them anymore. "How can I call myself a proper adult if I've missed out on such a vital part of child development?"
This, coming from a guy who made a point of having an oversized teddy bear within arm's reach at all times.
"Uh, Usagi-san? It's gonna take a lot more than a blanket fort for you to be able to call yourself a proper adult," Misaki said.
Usagi shrugged.
"It's a good place to start." He lit another cigarette and waited patiently for Misaki's reply.
Misaki walked over to the balcony window listened to the pattering of raindrops against the glass, his resolve weakening by the second. Not that he had much to begin with. He couldn't deny Usagi a chance to enjoy a "normal childhood experience" any more than he could deny himself the pleasure of stealing glances at Usagi's face and seeing the usual cynicism in his eyes replaced with the childish wonder he should have experienced years ago. And even more than that, blanket forts were just plain awesome. The only question he really had to ponder was: why hadn't they done this before?
When he felt that enough time had passed to give Usagi the impression that his victory over Misaki was hard-earned, he crossed his arms and pasted his best scowl on his face before turning around to face him.
"Alright. Fine," he said. "We'll build your stupid blanket fort. But on one condition."
"What's that?"
Misaki fixed Usagi with a stern glare.
"You are forbidden from doing anything perverted to me the entire time we're in the blanket fort," he declared. "No touching me in weird places, no saying gross things to me...nothing!"
Usagi puffed on his cigarette and looked at him with a bored expression.
"That doesn't sound very fun," he said.
"Those are my rules," Misaki said. "Follow them or make your own damn blanket fort."
"Fine, fine. I won't lay a hand on you as long as we're in the blanket fort," Usagi said. He let out a long-suffering sigh and added, "You make it sound as if I have no self-control."
Misaki gave him a look.
"You don't."
"I have plenty," Usagi said. "If I didn't, you would be constantly walking around bowlegged with a donut pillow strapped to your..."
Misaki clapped his hands over his ears so hard he saw stars.
"That's enough!" he shouted. He jabbed a forefinger at Usagi's face. "Do not finish that sentence if you know what's good for you! The pervy talk ends now."
He glared at Usagi and waited until his face cooled several degrees before speaking again.
"Now make yourself useful and start gathering up all the pillows, blankets and bed sheets you can spare."
As Usagi rose from the couch, he gave Misaki his first smile of the evening-not one of his usual thin-lipped smirks, but a genuine, full-faced grin that started in his eyes and didn't stop until it was lodged firmly in Misaki's heart. Misaki supposed it couldn't be helped if his pulse sped up ever so slightly at the sight.
For the next half hour, they worked on building a blanket fort. Or more precisely, Misaki worked on building a blanket fort and Usagi gathered up an army of teddy bears, insisting that a secret fort should be guarded by sentries. As Misaki fastened bed sheets together with safety pins, draped them over a framework of sofas and table chairs, and fashioned a crude tunnel entrance out of an old cardboard box, Usagi rummaged though the Bear Room, pulled out all the teddy bears that were similar in size, and lined them up around the perimeter of the fort—their very own "Imperial Bear Guard," as he put it.
After posing for Usagi's commemorative cell phone photo (which Misaki only agreed to after giving a laundry list of the ways he would kill Usagi if he showed it to anyone else), Misaki found himself standing beside Usagi, surveying the finished project. As far as blanket forts went, it was nothing spectacular—just a mishmash of linens and furniture with a cardboard box and an abundance of bears—but the way Usagi was looking at it, you'd think it was an exact replica of the Sensoji Temple.
"Blanket forts are great, aren't they?"
Misaki rolled his eyes at the hushed reverence in Usagi's voice.
"Yes. Yes they are."
"I've never seen anything like this," Usagi said.
"It's...definitely something," Misaki concurred.
Creepy as hell was what he wanted to say. A blanket fort surrounded by a battalion of teddy bears in the middle of a rich man's living room? If that didn't scream "sexual predator's lair," nothing did. He refrained from voicing that thought, not wanting to say anything to extinguish the twinkle in Usagi's eyes.
"So what do we do now?" Usagi asked. "Is there any sort of ritual involved with going inside? Any special chants?"
Misaki pressed his lips together to keep from smiling at his landlord's childish naievity.
"Not really." Misaki gave him a once-over and added, "But you should probably change into something more comfortable while I grab some snacks. You'd look like a total deviant, wearing a suit and tie in a blanket fort."
Usagi gave a sage nod, as if he had received Misaki's greatest pearls of commoner's wisdom. Dutifully, he turned around and started up the stairs for his bedroom.
"Don't go inside without me," he called over his shoulder.
Misaki waited until Usagi was out of sight before releasing the sigh that had been building up since Usagi had suggested making the blanket fort. He raised his eyes to the ceiling.
Nii-chan, something tells me that I am about to get myself into a very weird situation...
As if the universe was confirming Misaki's suspicions, a thunderclap rumbled ominously in the distance.
A couple of hours later, after the obligatory snack-fest (which consisted mainly of Misaki gorging on Bear Puffs and while Usagi watched with thinly veiled amusement), and a lesson on how to make shadow puppets with their hands, they moved on to what had always been Misaki's favorite section of his blanket fort sleepover requirement checklist: telling ghost stories. Content to let Misaki do all the talking, Usagi sat hunched with his elbows propped on Suzuki-san's back, a captive audience as Misaki regaled him with stupid story after stupid story.
"...so the next time you go into your kitchen for a midnight snack on a moonless night, be careful when you open your refrigerator..."
Misaki paused for effect and held his flashlight beneath his chin to illuminate his face from below.
"...because the head of cabbage rotting in the crisper might not be a head of cabbage at all...but a HUMAN HEAD!"
Misaki let loose with a maniacal laugh worthy of a villain in a B movie. Usagi watched him impassively until he finished, then said,
"That was, without exception, the worst story I've ever heard."
"That's what I thought the first time Nii-chan told it to me," Misaki admitted.
A fond smile curved his mouth as he remembered the first time Takahiro had told the tale to him. At the time, he'd thought the story so utterly ridiculous that in an effort to keep from hurting Takahiro's feelings, he started shaking violently with suppressed laughter. Takahiro, believing that he'd scared his little brother out of his wits, became so overwrought with guilt that he started to cry. Which of course, had prompted Misaki to burst into tears over the grief he'd caused him. Eventually, after many tears and apologies on both sides, the truth came out and they both laughed themselves into stomach cramps. From then on, no sleepover in a blanket fort was complete without a dramatic retelling of The Tale of the Killer Cabbage.
He dug a handful of potato chips out of the bowl in the middle of the fort and shoved them into his mouth.
"So it's not the best story in the world, but if you think you can do better, why don't you tell one instead?" he mumbled through the crumbs.
Usagi shot him a wry smile.
"I'll pass."
"How is that fair?" Misaki protested. "I've been doing all the storytelling since we came in here. My throat needs a break." To emphasize his point, he released a series of pathetic sounding coughs.
"In case you've forgotten, I get paid to tell stories," Usagi said. "What makes you think I'd want to do it for free?"
"Stingy old man," Misaki grumbled. He thought for a moment, then added,
"Think of it as your price of admission for being allowed inside the fort."
"I thought my not doing anything perverted to you was the price of admission."
"This is your tax," Misaki said peevishly.
"What kind of story could you possibly want to hear?" Usagi asked.
"I dunno. Maybe you could tell me...tell me..."
A rumble of thunder provided Misaki with a burst of inspiration. He snapped his fingers.
"I know! You can tell me the story of what happened to make you hate thunderstorms so much."
"What makes you think something happened?" Usagi asked. "Plenty of people dislike thunder for no apparent reason. Why should I be any different?"
"Because you're you. You always have a reason for everything, even if you're the only one who's weird enough to understand it."
Usagi sighed.
"It's a dumb story. You don't want to hear it," he said.
"I just told you a story about a genetically spliced, mutant cabbage who goes around decapitating vegetarians," Misaki pointed out. "There's no way it could be worse than that."
Usagi gave him a sardonic look.
"You'd be surprised."
"Surprise me."
Usagi fell silent, gazing at him through narrowed eyes. Misaki made the flashlight beam dance along the blanketed walls of the fort to distract himself from the surge of self-consciousness that arose beneath the intense scrutiny.
"Let's make a deal." Usagi finally said. "I'll agree to tell you if you'll agree to sleep over here." He stretched out on his makeshift bed and patted the empty space beside his hips. An inviting smile played on his lips.
Misaki's pulse leaped and surged. His flashlight fell onto his pillow and rolled onto the floor.
"J-just a minute!" he stammered. He held up both hands, as if to push back the wave of racy mental images his landlord was undoubtedly trying to project through his "come-hither-to-my-you-know-what" stare. "You gave me your word that you wouldn't—"
Usagi cut him off with a wave of the hand.
"—do anything perverted to you in the blanket fort, I know," he finished. "I won't. I just want to have you close to me. It's...comforting."
He looked away as he said the last part.
Any resistance Misaki wanted to believe he had disintegrated at the sight of that uncharacteristic act of embarrassment. It occurred to him that despite the noticeable improvement in Usagi's mood, it was still storming outside, which meant that Usagi probably wasn't feeling one hundred percent yet. If cheering Usagi up had been the reason for agreeing to a blanket fort sleepover in the first place, then surely it couldn't hurt to indulge him just a bit more.
"Fine. It's a deal," he conceded. "But no funny stuff."
After clearing the snacks to one side of the fort, he crawled over to Usagi's side, dragging his blankets behind him. He fashioned them into an Usagi-proof cocoon and burrowed inside. Usagi clicked off his flashlight
"I tried running away when I was little," Usagi murmured into the darkness.
"Is that so?"
"This was back when I still lived in England, before my father hired Tanaka. I filled a knapsack with some of my favorite books and crept out of the house while the servants were taking supper in their quarters."
"You filled a knapsack with books, but didn't think to bring a change of clothes or some food? Sounds like you were more interested in being found than in staying lost," Misaki teased.
Usagi chuckled.
"You know me all too well." He gave Misaki's blanketed back an approving pat and continued.
"It was summer, which meant that we were staying in our vacation home in the English countryside. I decided to camp out in the stone gazebo in the centre of the courtyard garden. It was far enough from the manor to give me a sense of freedom and adventure, but close enough that if anyone wanted to look for me, I could be easily found. All anyone would have to do was look out one of the windows and they would see me.
"As I sat on a bench in the gazebo and sifted through my books, I let myself imagine what would happen once I was found. It would be a heartwarming reunion straight out of a television drama. My parents would cry. They would scold me for running off on my own. They might even punish me. But most of all, they would apologize for driving me away and swear that they would work harder at making our house a home that I would be happy to live in. My father would spend less time buried in his work and more time with his family. And he'd actually seem happy about it. My mother would stop looking at me as if I were nothing more than a chip in her manicure. She might even hug me once in a while..."
Usagi paused as a rumble of thunder mumbled in the background. He sighed.
"It doesn't matter. I was just a brat. What did I know about how the real world works?"
Misaki winced at the self-deprecation in his voice. He'd always known that Usagi had a lonely childhood, but how bad had it been for him to sound so scornful at the thought of a little boy longing for warmth and affection? He wished he could say something to comfort him, but didn't dare. He had the feeling that Usagi was talking to himself more than anything at this point, and would clam up if Misaki made his presence too conspicuous. So he kept his mouth shut and waited for Usagi to pick up the thread of his story.
"I read my books until the sky grew too dark for me to be able to make out the words. After that, I had nothing else to do but sit there, stare at the manor, and wait. Occasionally, I would see the silhouette of someone passing by one of the windows and I'd hold my breath, waiting for them to stop and peer outside. In my childish way of thinking, if someone stopped by the window and looked out, that would mean that they were thinking of me, hoping to get a glimpse of me from inside. I wanted so desperately to believe that someone had noticed my absence. Of course, each person I saw in the window swept past without the slightest pause.
"I was so wrapped up in watching the manor that I hardly paid attention to the drop in temperature or the clouds gathering in the sky. By the time the rain started pattering against the roof of the gazebo, I believed myself past the point of no return. How could I give up and go inside now after sticking it out for so long? It couldn't be much longer before someone found me. In a house with two parents and six servants, someone was bound to realize that I was gone. Surely someone would think to check my bedroom to make sure I had gone to bed properly. Maybe this would even be the night when one of my parents would finally stop by to say goodnight to me.
"But as the sky grew darker and the wind and rain became more incessant, my boyish bravodo began to dissolve. Righteous indignation became loneliness. Hope turned into fear. What if no one noticed that I was missing? Or worse, what if my parents had noticed but didn't care? What if they wanted me to stay away forever? The only answer to my questions was the endless crashing of thunder.
"Just like most kids do in the dark, my imagination started to run wild on me. I started imagining that there were demons in the sky, watching me through the veil of clouds. The rain was their spit, which they hurled at me in contempt. The thunder was their collective laughter, reserved for a stupid kid who was foolish enough to think that he mattered enough for anyone to notice when he wasn't around.
"All my life, people have told me that I was a gifted child, blessed with a vivid imagination. And maybe that was true. But no gift comes without a price. For me, that meant that the lines between fantasy and reality were often indistinguishable. The longer I stayed outside in that storm, the more I believed that the demons were real. I was completely at their mercy, forced to listen to their mocking laughter. Each laugh of thunder came with an accompanying taunt:
'No one will ever miss you.'
'No one wants you.'
'No one loves you.'
"Over and over, those words played in my head, so strongly that it was as if I could physically hear them. I tried to tell the demons to shut up, that they were wrong, but with each passing moment, my arguments seemed weaker. As to confirm what I didn't want to believe, the lights in the house started to flicker off. One by one, the window lights faded, until I was left with nothing but permeating darkness and the knowledge that I had lost. The demons had been right. No one missed me. No one wanted me. No one loved me.
"With nothing left to do but wait for morning, and nothing to keep me company but the voices in my heart, I lay down on the bench and cried myself to sleep. That was the last time that I allowed myself to cry as a child. That was the also the first time I ever felt compelled to write a story. The Akihiko in the real world might have been left unnoticed in the rain all night, but maybe if I tried, I could create an Akihiko in a world filled with people who would stop at nothing to find him and throw a large party when they did.
"Eventually I was found, but it wasn't because anyone was looking for me. The next day, my mother chanced upon me during a mid-morning stroll with some of her socialite friends. She made a big show of of greeting me when she was still in her group, but once her admirers wandered away to fawn over her prize winning tea rose bushes, she cuffed me on the back of the head and whispered,
'For heaven's sake, Akihiko! Those clothes are filthy. You're just as disgusting as your father. Go inside immediately and change your outfit. I'll have no child in this household looking like a ragamuffin.'
"So I went back into the house, changed into a different outfit like a good boy, and life went on as usual. With the exception of thunderstorms, of course. Since that night, when I hear the sound of thunder and rain, it's as if I'm six years old and sitting alone in a stone gazebo, watching the lights in the house go out and listening to the jeers of imaginary demons. It's not enough to incapacitate me, and most days I can fight back with my writing, but occasionally, when I find myself completely alone..."
Usagi broke off with a mirthless chuckle.
"And that's the story of my grand runaway adventure and the origin of my dislike of thunderstorms," he finished. "Aren't you sorry you asked?"
Misaki didn't answer. Couldn't answer. He felt as if all his words and feelings had been combined and compressed into a knot that lodged in his windpipe. When he could finally bring himself to speak, his throat actually hurt with the effort.
"U-Usagi-san?" His voice was barely audible over the drizzling of rainfall. "I'm really sorry."
"What? Why?"
Misaki took a handful of ragged breaths and continued.
"We've been together for seven years, and I never knew how you felt about thunderstorms. And here I was, going on and on about all the fun I used to have with Nii-chan in our blanket forts growing up. I can't believe what a jerk I've been."
He heard a rustling sound then felt the rush of cooler air as his blankets were yanked from his body. A pair of chilly hands gripped his shoulders, rolling him gently onto his side.
"There you go again, worrying too much about my feelings," Usagi murmured, drawing the blankets over both their bodies. "Don't you dare apologize. Hearing about how much Takahiro cared for you and all the fun you had with him...it gives me an even better picture of how you came to be the guy I fell so madly in love with. I'm nothing but grateful."
Cool fingers trailed up Misaki's spine and twined in his hair. He squeezed his eyes shut and lay placidly in Usagi's arms, permitting himself to savor the chaste caresses.
"Do you want to hear a one-of-a-kind Usami-sensei trade secret? I actually do my best writing when the weather's like this. Why do you think I churn out so many Boys Love novels instead of my normal ones? It's because as much as I can, I save my serious stuff for the rainy days. Whenever those old demons start to plague me, I escape from them by hiding in a world of my own creation, one where they can't touch me."
But he didn't escape from them, Misaki knew. Not if the pain permeating the pages of those books was any indication. Usagi had been known to boast that he never cried, but Misaki knew that wasn't entirely true. His tears were formed in ink. He shed words so that others could cry in his stead.
Misaki rested his forehead against the shelf of Usagi's collarbone.
"I wish I would've known about this earlier," he mumbled into Usagi's chest.
"Why? So you could chase away the boogeymen for me? I'm not a child, Misaki. Contrary to what you like to think, I am capable of conducting myself like an adult when I have to. I don't fall apart every time I hear thunder."
"But today you—"
"—today was an exception. What kind of gifted writer would I be if I didn't have the occasional bout of melancholy? Not that I'd expect you to understand the ways of a genius."
"S-shut up!"
Usagi chuckled again and drew Misaki closer.
"I can almost hear the rusty little gears spinning in your head. You're lying here, wondering what you could have done to cheer me up, if only you'd been more considerate, aren't you?"
Miski didn't reply. He didn't have to. Usagi had him pegged and they both knew it.
"Well, you can stop fretting. Because every time you brought me a cup of tea or draped a blanket over me when you thought I was asleep or nagged me about taking better care of myself, you proved those demons wrong with a vengeance. I never asked you to, but you did. Just by being you. Bossy little fussbudget Misaki. My rainbow that shines brightest in the storm."
Misaki didn't know which was worse: that Usagi could spew such sickeningly sweet lines without a drop of shame, or that he was simpleminded enough to almost be just a little bit moved by them.
"Um, Usagi-san? Do you think you'll ever get to a point where you stop hearing them? Those demons in the sky telling you all those horrible things?"
He felt the gentle press of Usagi's lips on the top of his head.
"Who knows," Usagi said. "I'd like to think so, but I imagine it would take time and effort. Sometimes the hardest voices to silence are the ones that don't make a sound."
They lapsed into a thoughtful silence. True to his word, Usagi didn't try anything perverted. He simply lay there with Misaki loosely enfolded in his arms. Which left Misaki with nothing to distract him from sound of drizzling rain and the maelstrom of feelings swirling inside him.
As he lay there in the darkness, enveloped by the scent of tobacco and cologne, feeling the warmth of Usagi's breath in his hair, he couldn't help but wonder what the author was thinking each time a crack of thunder punctured the pattering monotony of the rain. Was his presence at Usagi's side enough to keep those old demons at bay, or was he still hearing their taunting laughter? What dark mutterings was Usagi hearing even now? Remembering pieces of Usagi's story, Misaki's mind started filling in the blanks.
BOOM!
No one will ever miss you.
BOOM!
No one wants you.
BOOM!
No one loves you.
The longer the thunder persisted, the more Misaki's feelings started to change. At first, he was awash in sympathy for a lonely, imaginative child who had grown into a lonely, imaginative man. Then, as time stretched out, his sadness began to solidify into anger. Who cared if Usagi's demons weren't real—something was feeding him hurtful lies and Misaki would be damned if he would let it continue. The right to insult Usagi was exclusively his. He had claimed that right from the instant Usagi's first teardrop had fallen on his shoulder all those years ago. No one, not a flesh and blood human or even a figment of a tortured imagination, would get away with talking crap about his Usagi!
As if to challenge Misaki's conviction, a massive thunderclap sounded throughout the sky, rattling the windows in the apartment.
That did it.
His blood roaring in his ears, Misaki jerked out of Usagi's arms and sat bolt upright, flinging the blankets off his body.
"Get up, Usagi-san!" he commanded.
Usagi sat up.
"What's wrong?"
Misaki fumbled around for his flashlight, found it, and shone it at Usagi, who grimaced and shielded his eyes.
"Get out of the blanket fort, right now!"
"Huh?"
"Just shut up and follow me. Hurry!"
They crawled single-file out the blanket fort, Misaki leading the way. When they rose to their feet, Misaki clasped Usagi's hand and marched them across the living room to the balcony window. He slid the glass door open and stepped outside. He strode purposefully over to the balcony railing, pulling Usagi along with him.
Heedless of the chilly barrage of raindrops pelting his body, Misaki clenched his free hand into a fist, lifted his face to the murky heavens, and shouted:
"Hey! You in the sky! Usagi-san's thunder demons, or whatever you are!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Misaki could see Usagi watching him with a baffled expression. Ignoring him, Misaki pressed on.
"You might have been sitting on your stupid demon asses up there, laughing at Usagi-san all these years, but I'm here to tell that you don't know what the hell you're talking about! You say that no one would ever miss Usagi-san? You're wrong! I would! You say that no one would ever miss Usagi-san? You're wrong! I would! You say that no one loves Usagi-san? You're wrong..."
Misaki's heart thudded wildly. This was it. Before he could talk himself out of it or let his own natural reticence overshadow the urgency of what he knew he had to do, he drew a large breath, harnessed the power of the emotions boiling in the pit of his stomach and bellowed:
"I LOVE USAGI-SAN!"
And just for good measure, he hoisted his fist at the sky and added, "So shut the hell up and leave him alone from now on!"
Heedless of his outburst, the skies continued to pour. And that was when Misaki realized how completely idiotic he must look. As Usagi stood rooted to the ground, gaping at him in frank astonishment, Takahashi Misaki came to the sudden conclusion that maybe he wouldn't mind so much if a stray lightning bolt were to streak from the sky and zap him into oblivion right now. If he didn't spontaneously combust first. His face felt so hot he half-expected the raindrops splatting onto his face to hiss and evaporate into steam.
He leaned heavily against the balcony wall. Usagi moved behind him. Too embarrassed to acknowledge his presence, Misaki ignored him and stared blankly at the network of city lights twinkling on the horizon.
Several seconds passed in silence. Then several more. Then a moment. Then another. Gradually, Misaki's heart rate slowed. The roaring in his ears began to subside, heightening his awareness of other sounds around him: the dull plopping of raindrops falling on the balcony railing. The sloshing of tires driving through the puddles on the streets. The soft sound of Usagi's laughter. Wait, laughter?!
He turned his head and glared at Usagi over his shoulder. Though Usagi's eyes were obscured by his drenched bangs, his grin was unmistakable.
"W-what's so funny?"
"You. You really are an idiot," Usagi voice was rich with affection. "Shouting at thin air...you should know there's no such thing as thunder demons."
"Who's the idiot?" Misaki snapped, his eyes widening in indignation. "You're the one who—"
Usagi surged forward and threw his arms around him. Misaki's words died on his lips.
"I showed you a side of myself that I never intended for you to see, and you built me a blanket fort," Usagi began, his lips tickling Misaki's ear with every word. "I told you things about my past that made me feel like an idiot, and you made an even bigger idiot out of yourself on my behalf. For the first time in my life, I'm hearing the sound of thunder and I'm not hopelessly looking for a glimpse of someone in a distant window." He drew back and peered into Misaki's face. "I'm looking at you, and you're not walking by without a glance. You're here and you're looking straight at me too. I can't even begin to tell you how happy you've made me."
Usagi pulled him as close as the laws of physics would allow and mashed their lips together in a violent kiss. And maybe it was just Misaki's mind playing tricks on him, but he could almost swear that some of the raindrops on Usagi's cheeks felt warmer than the others. Before he could ponder it further, Usagi broke the kiss. The world suddenly went upside down as Usagi scooped him up with practiced ease and slung him over his shoulder as if he weighed no more than Suzuki-san. Wordlessly, Usagi carried him back inside the apartment, making it no further than the balcony entrance before lowering him to the floor and crawling on top of him A hot mouth closed over his.
When their mouths broke apart, Usagi wasted no time undoing the buttons on Misaki's pajama top.
"H-hold on, Usagi-san!" Misaki squawked as a chilly hand slipped beneath the soaked fabric and began tracing shiver-inducing patterns on his chest. The protests tumbled of his mouth automatically, but mostly because he knew they were expected. "We had an agreement! No perverted stuff—"
"—in the blanket fort," Usagi interjected. He licked the sensitive spot on the side of Misaki's neck, smiling smugly as Misaki hissed between his teeth at the contact. "I gave you my word, and I'm keeping it. Nothing perverted in the blanket fort. But we're not in the blanket fort right now, are we?"
Misaki cast a glance at the blanket fort, which suddenly seemed like it was a days' journey away. The "Imperial Bear Guard" gazed blandly at him as if to say, "He's right, you know."
But when Usagi's mouth covered his a second time, doing things to his heart rate that continued to surprise him, despite the years of repetition, Misaki found that he could care less about rules and agreements. There was no use arguing with someone who had graduated from law school with top marks...Usami Akihiko would always be able to find a way to get him off on a technicality.
Later, when the rain and their passion had subsided, they found themselves back in the blanket fort, entwined in a blissful network of blankets and limbs. Physically and emotionally spent, Misaki drifted in and out of slumber, lulled by the feel of Usagi's fingers combing through his hair.
"Misaki."
Usagi's voice gently coaxed him back to wakefulness.
"Hmm?"
"Thank you for the shelter."
"S'no big deal, Usagi-san," Misaki replied, wrapping his words around a yawn. "Just a silly blanket fort. Anyone can make one."
"You're absolutely right," Usagi concurred. "This is just a blanket fort. You're my shelter."
"I'm ho—"
Misaki's froze, his greeting forgotten, as he took in the sight that awaited him when he opened the apartment door. His bulging eyes followed the twin trails of rose petals and tea lights that formed a pathway into the living room. The mauve couch set and coffee table were gone, replaced with a large Moroccan tent. Silk bed sheets in varying hues of red and pink were draped haphazardly over the framework of the tent, which was staunchly surrounded by Usagi's "Imperial Bear Guard." A cold sweat broke over his body when he finally brought himself to look at the interior—fully furnished with a Persian rug (when the hell had Usagi purchased one of those?!), low tables, candle lanterns and an assortment of garishly colored throw pillows. And of course, Usagi.
Lounging idly on a mound of pillows and clad in a pair of finely tailored black silk pajajams that likely cost more than Misaki's monthly salary was Usagi himself, his arm slung around Suzuki-san, whose oversized head was swathed a baby blue turban.
"Welcome home," Usagi called, lifting his hand in an imperious wave.
Misaki's left eye gave a little twitch.
"Um, excuse me, oh wise sultan Usagi?" He kept his voice under tight control as he toed off his shoes and strode up the pathway of petals. "If it pleases your lordship, might this humble servant inquire as to the meaning behind the presence of this very large and very extravagant tent?"
Usagi looked at him the way he had when he first heard that Misaki planned on attending Mitsuhashi University.
"It's not a tent, silly. It's a blanket fort. I hired a catering company to set it up while you were at work." Usagi shot him with the full blast of his gentleman's smile. "If you look on your bedroom dresser, you will find a matching set of pajamas. Please change into them, as this blanket fort has a strict dress code."
Misaki's left eye started to do the jitterbug.
"Also, I have taken the liberty of writing a revised addition of The Tale of the Killer Cabbage," Usagi continued. He gestured to a large manuscript sitting atop one of the low tables. "I expect you to familiarize yourself with it as soon as possible, because you will be reading it out loud tonight. And one more thing."
Misaki gulped as Usagi's glittering eyes made a slow crawl over his body.
"You should know that I am definitely going to mess you up in all sorts of unmentionable ways tonight. My blanket fort, my rules." He smirked and added, "Any questions?"
When Misaki was finally able to pry his tongue from the roof of his mouth, the only thing he could manage was an exasperated, "Why?!"
Usagi shrugged.
"The weather forecast said there was a thirty percent chance of thundershowers tonight." His smirk blossomed into a radiant smile. "It's always best to be prepared. Better safe than sorry, right?"
Takahashi Misaki lifted his eyes to the ceiling and sent out a silent prayer to his precious brother, whose wholesome brain could never imagine the woes to which he was daily subjected.
Nii-chan, I only wanted to help Usagi fight his demons, but I think I might have created a monster instead...
As the universe was confirming Misaki's suspicions, a thunderclap rumbled ominously in the distance.
...aaaand that's a wrap. Many thanks for reading. Hope you all have a yaoi-tastic day...I know I will :D
Spockfully yours,
Spockaholic