A Weakness So Terrible
[Part 2]
Yosuke

AN: I actually finished writing this story before I posted the first part, and I always find it tricky deciding where chapters and story segments should start and where they should be cut off to continue to the next chapter. I apologize if any chapter I ever write for anything, including this story, seems to cut off abruptly.

Again, I warn in advance: Don't like the sad feels and the angst? Please don't read. Still plan to read it anyway? Take it like a champ.

JR not mine.

Usagi... Usagi, what have I done?...

Like every moment that had passed so slowly since Aikawa delivered the news, the young boy hardly seemed to notice anything he did, barely aware he was even still in the present, as he collapsed to his hands and knees and subconsciously rode through his stomach spasming. Sumi's voice just barely reached him as hands grabbed his shoulders, but not in time to stop him from heaving onto the floor, the horrendous shock of the moment mixed with his hangover making the boy weak and susceptible to the intense trauma.

He wasn't sure when he'd stopped vomiting, or at what point he'd been put in a car. He faintly remembered seeing buildings speeding by, and Aikawa's nervous chatter. Before he knew it, he was surrounded by the grey, metallic walls of an elevator, and so suddenly the all too familiar smell of a hospital hit his senses. It was at that point that Misaki snapped out of his half-conscious state, staring at an empty waiting room while Aikawa talked to a nurse. The boy shuddered once, harshly, understanding what had happened and how familiar this all felt to him. He felt like he was going to be sick again. Putting a hand on his forehead as if that would somehow steady him, he guided himself to a seat, holding his head in despair and gluing his eyes to the stark white tiles. He was afraid to close his eyes. If he did, he'd only start imagining things, remembering the newspaper photograph of his parents' car after it had been totaled, and pretending that Akihiko's car had suffered the same fate, much to his heart's discontent.

It's fine, it's all fine. She said Usagi is still alive. He's just hurt, is all... But how badly? Just because he was alive didn't necessarily mean it'd be for long. He tried to shake the grim thoughts from his mind, but they stuck like a disease, slowing eating away his mental capacities. Someone needed to tell him something. They just needed to tell him his condition, that was all he needed. He could try to absorb the details later, but for now, he just wanted to know if it was a definite "yes, he'll live" or "no, he's not going to make it". Anything, any news at all... He was going to go insane.

Just before deciding to demand some answers from a nurse, Aikawa approached him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Misaki, Usami is fine. He's not awake yet, but he's doing much better than last night."

Misaki couldn't find the strength to lift his head to look her in the face. He wouldn't be able to stomach a lie just to ease him. Was Usagi really okay?

"His left shoulder was dislocated, and his arm is broken. He got a concussion from the impact, but they said that's the only thing keeping him asleep. Once the head injury subsides a little, they expect he'll wake up at any time."

With very little courage, the boy finally managed to lift his head, barely aware of how wet his cheeks were and how badly he was shaking. Aikawa knelt down in front of him, trying to stare up into his eyes with as much sympathy as possible.

"The doctor said he's actually okay to receive visitors now. Let's go in and see him, okay?"

"No." The word escaped before Misaki could stop it, and he nearly surprised himself almost as much as he surprised the woman kneeling before him. "No, I can't... Not yet. I can't see him... I just can't..." The dark-haired boy's head dropped again, fingers lacing through his hair. "Please leave me alone... Just let me wait for a bit... I'm not ready to face him yet..."

The editor clearly didn't understand why it was that Misaki wouldn't jump at the chance to see if his lover was okay, but she never pretended to understand the in-depth details of their relationship, only the superficial pieces required for work. Nodding somewhat, Aikawa stood and left Misaki in the waiting room, following a nurse to go see the injured novelist.

Two hours passed, and time finally seemed to slow down for poor Misaki. With his head still held in indescribable shame, he remained in the waiting room, trying desperately to think of how he could properly apologize to Akihiko once he woke up. Honestly, he wasn't even sure he could face him when he did awaken. What was he supposed to say to the man he'd almost killed? "Sorry about that?" There was no amount of sincerity he could put into the explanations that would make up for what he'd done. Perhaps Akihiko wouldn't want to see him anymore. Perhaps he'd kick Misaki out for having almost ruined his life. It would be understandable, but somehow Misaki doubted it would happen like that. The older man had such a strong fondness for the boy, devoid of all reason, and even if he'd been the cause of his near-death experience, Misaki couldn't see the man getting rid of him so easily.

Likewise, Misaki couldn't imagine living without Usagi. His heart broke all over again at the idea, and viciously hoped Akihiko could somehow find it in his heart to forgive him enough to let him stay with him. The boy would have to compensate somehow... He could get a second job to help pay off whatever financial circumstances would arise from this... Akihiko had no doubt lost a chunk of change from dodging out of the book signing weekend early to get home and stop Misaki from making any mistakes. He'd have to repay him for that. Plus, the man was injured. Who knew if he'd be in any condition to work? He certainly wouldn't be able to take proper care of himself. Misaki envisioned full days of labor ahead, but couldn't even cringe. If it would make up for what he'd done, he'd do it a thousand times over. After all, if such a thing could make up for what he'd done to his parents, if it could bring them back, he'd work like a lowly slave for the rest of his life.

Just please don't hate me, Usagi... Please, don't hate me...

Another half-hour later, Takahiro arrived at the hospital with his wife, nearly panic-stricken with the knowledge that his best friend was in a hospital bed. The man found his younger brother in the waiting room and rushed to him, asking if everything was okay.

"Yeah... Usagi's fine, I guess. He's just... hurt... I don't know if he's awake yet..." Misaki's voice barely registered in his own head.

"Misaki, you haven't gone in to see him yet?"

"No, Aikawa went to see him for me. Said he's okay, just asleep..."

Takahiro seemed genuinely confused, taking a seat beside his brother. "Why don't you go and see him?"

At the suggestion, Misaki cringed visibly, folding into himself and burying his face into his knees. "I can't... I can't go in there... Please, please don't make me... I can't do it..."

"Why? What's the matter? Don't you want to see if he's okay with your own eyes?"

"So much... I want to see him so much... But I can't..." Tears spotted the fabric of his pants as he began to cry anew. "He was on his way home to see me... He was rushing home... to see me... It's my fault. It's all my fault..." Finally, Misaki lost control and began to sob harshly, shaking from the effort of simply breathing as his fingers dug into his own arms. "I shouldn't have argued with him... I should've just done as he said... But no, I had to behave like a child, and it ended up putting him in the hospital... Usagi... I'm so sorry..."

The pieces of information slowly fell into place, and Takahiro was finally able to gather what had happened, and why Misaki was so despondent. Misaki had always blamed himself for their parents' death. Now it seemed that a similar situation had arisen, and once again the young boy had placed himself in the center of the blame for what had happened, despite that truly, nothing he did could have possibly influenced fate in such a way. Explanations, reasoning, pleading sentences filled Takahiro's head, desperate to put his little brother's worries to rest, but the words died on his tongue. They would all be the same things Misaki had heard when he was young, and as he had grown up. Given the current situation and how deep a hole Misaki had dug himself into on the matter, Takahiro doubted he'd be able to reach him, at least right away. Misaki needed to vent his frustration and tears. He'd wallow in his sorrow for a few days, berate himself unmercifully, then slowly slip back into his normal pace of life. Regardless of how Akihiko made out in this ordeal, Misaki would never forgive himself, and would likely carry the guilt with him for a long time, as he had when he was younger.

Rather than rush into his friend's room to see how he was fairing, Takahiro instead chose to stay by Misaki, taking a seat next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. The boy turned and cried into his brother's lap, too upset with himself to act more appropriately in public. Every now and then, he choked out pleads for forgiveness and promises of reparation, and Takahiro could only rub his back soothingly in hopes to placate his guilt-laden heart.

About half an hour later, Misaki had managed to calm himself and shrunk back into his own chair, eyes locked onto his own shoes to avoid any guilty eye contact with anyone. His fingers twisted in the fabric of his pant legs, anxiously awaiting any news from the doctors. At one point, his older brother patted his shoulder and took off to see Akihiko, returning ten minutes later with an update on his condition.

"Misaki," Takahiro cooed gently, kneeling back down in front of the nervous boy, hands on his knees lightly, as if the mere touch of another person would scare him back into another frenzy of tears. "Misaki, he's awake."

Blood-shot eyes darted up to calm bespectacled ones, tentative to believe him though he wasn't sure why.

"He's been awake for about twenty minutes. The doctors are taking care of him, but he just needs to rest some more." Takahiro spoke the next sentence very carefully. "He wants to see you. He was asking for you."

The suggestion, a faint request from his own brother to go see the very man he'd put in the hospital, repulsed Misaki, and his eyes once again fell, nervousness roiling around in his stomach so violently that he felt he might vomit. Impulsively, he shook his head, screwing his eyes shut. "I can't..."

"Misaki, he wants to see you. He wants to. Do you think he's angry or something? Because he certainly didn't seem that way. He just wants you there. Why not go to him?"

"Because I almost killed him!" Misaki nearly screamed, drawing the attention of passing nurses and visitors. "Does he know what happened? Does he know he was in a car accident? Does he know it was because of me?" The boy sobbed loudly, plastering himself back into his chair stubbornly. "Did anyone tell him that? Because I'm pretty sure he should know why he's here! Tell him it was me! Tell him I almost murdered him-"

Misaki was cut short by a sharp slap to the face. Pain blossomed on his cheek, the spot reddening as he stared in wide-eyed shock in no particular direction. Takahiro's glare was almost as tortured as Misaki's mind, but his resolve was clearly less shaken. "I'm sorry I did that, Misaki, but I'm not sure how you got it in your head that you're a murderer. Akihiko is alive and well. He didn't get in a car accident because of you. He got in an accident because he drove recklessly and the other driver wasn't paying attention. The only guilty people are Akihiko and the other driver. Now get that through your head." The last words were spoken sharply, like a parent to a spoiled child. After a moment, where neither of them moved, Takahiro let out a heavy sigh, his gaze softening. "I can sit here and put you through all the same speeches I gave you when you were little, and I can honestly say that I'm not really expecting you to listen to them, much less absorb them," the man spoke quietly, his hands back on Misaki's shaking knees. "But painting a target on yourself isn't going to take back what happened, and it isn't going to make Akihiko feel any better. In fact, it's only going to make him feel worse. I've seen how he is around you. His feelings change when yours does. He likes to listen to you talk. You should see how he smiles when you're happy. I've never seen him so at peace."

Misaki's eyes finally found Takahiro's, and the effort the man was making finally seemed to reach the younger boy.

"Misaki, you're very important to him. Do you really think he's going to pretend like this is your fault? I don't think he'd have it in him to see you so miserable. You should save him some grief by not being so self-conscious about his accident."

The boy wasn't quite sure how to respond. The argument his brother had provided had been piercing, going straight into his mind and making sense somehow, but despite this, the future that had yet to reveal itself, the possibility that Akihiko Usami, the man Misaki loved and would've done anything to switch places with at that very moment could perhaps hate him for what he'd done was far too frightening and constricting of the boy's heart, keeping him from being compliant on the matter. Takahiro wanted him to be calm and collected for Akihiko, and Misaki could try, but in the end, he knew he'd be a sniffling mess, falling to the novelist's feet in retribution, doing whatever he could to make up for almost taking his life.

Misaki knew Takahiro could see the indecisiveness in the boy's dark eyes, but for some reason, the older brother let it be and stood, giving Misaki room to stand. The student somehow managed to make it to his feet, though he honestly couldn't even feel the muscles in his legs to help him walk. He ended up wobbling weakly down the hallway, led by a worrisome Takahiro, all the way to the door of the room Akihiko was being kept in to recuperate. Just outside the door was Aikawa, texting like mad on her cell phone, probably trying to get in contact with the publishing companies to rearrange meetings and public appearances. Misaki knew it wasn't all business that was motivating the woman; from the pink of her eyes and her constant sniffling, she was probably doing all she could to keep herself busy and not worry about her friend. If anything, the novelist had probably thrown her out to keep her from blubbering over him.

What if Misaki started crying again? Well, it was an inevitability. What happened when he did start crying again? What would Usagi say? Would he kick him out, too? Would he scold him?

"Why are you crying, you brat? What right do you have to cry? You put me in here, for godsake. Do something more productive to make this up to me."

It was such a horrid, twisted feeling to hear Usagi's deep, reassuring voice filled with such contempt in his head. The boy knew that his mentor would never dare to utter such horrifying words to him, regardless of how angry he might be. But the thought still sent chills down his spine, and a renewed wave of panic fluttered in his stomach. Once again, he felt himself get nauseous, and stopped just before turning the handle.

"Misaki?" Takahiro spoke his name softly. The younger Takahashi shook his head lethargically.

"I... I can't..."

"Go, Misaki," his brother encouraged him gently, opening the door and guiding him, before stepping back out into the hallway and shutting the door.

It felt like he had just been locked in a dungeon with a sleeping dragon. The room was silent, save for the sound of flowing oxygen moving the through the tubes connected to Akihiko's nose. The man on the bed was still. Very still. Misaki's heart skipped a beat as a different sort of panic simmered in him, but the slightest movement of the man's head put his worries at ease. Akihiko looked so pale... Perhaps it was the stark lighting of the hospital room, or the white walls and sheets that surrounded him. The bandage on his forehead was pretty sizable... His head injury must have been pretty bad. He'd been unconscious, after all, and he did have a concussion. There was a scratch or two on his face, and his left arm was wrapped in a cast.

A flash of his childhood possessed his thoughts momentarily, remembering looking through the window as his brother identified the bodies...

The atmosphere of the room was suffocating, and the air thickened considerably. Misaki wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to take it. He felt he would pass out or get sick right then and there, but he willed himself to keep his composure, if only for Usagi's sake. Blood pounded deafeningly in his ears, his heart hammering away as if he expected Akihiko to leap up from the bed and kill him.

Perhaps that was what he deserved...

Misaki shook the dark thoughts from him, knowing fully well that becoming too emotional over the moment wouldn't make anything better and if he was going to properly apologize to Akihiko, he needed to be in the right state of mind.

But the novelist's unmoving form scared him more than any ideas of revenge against the boy ever could. When would Akihiko wake up again? What would he say? What would he do? The insurmountable possibilities plagued his mind and strangled his heart. Misaki was terrified. What would Usagi do?

"...How long are you just going to stand there and stare?"

The boy squeaked, nearly jumping out of his skin as he realized that a pair of blue eyes were honed in on him, staring with a familiar intensity that made him shiver with anticipation. Akihiko was awake. The moment of truth had arrived.

Taking a deep breath and straightening himself, Misaki took a step closer to the bed, eyes soaking up the details of Akihiko's condition a little better now that he was awake. The man seemed fully aware of his surroundings, and knew that he was indeed hurt. He hadn't bothered to move himself much, though Misaki wasn't sure if he could move at all, considering his dislocated shoulder and various bruises. But Akihiko didn't seem too tired or angry. He just looked... normal, like it was any other day that the man had woken up to see his young lover's face. Oh, if it had been any other day, Misaki would've never again complained about not getting enough time to himself or being forced to cuddle with the novelist until they were both awake the next morning. The boy would've given anything to have a healthy, uninjured Usagi sleeping in his own bed, and it was time to let him know just that.

"Usagi... I..." The words struggled in his throat, almost as if he were choking on them, but Akihiko managed to save him the trouble by cutting him off.

"First things first, Misaki: Do not dote on me. I'm fully conscious and I can move just fine, so no taking on unnecessary amounts of work just to make me feel better. That is except for baths. I might have trouble bathing properly, so I think I'll need you in the tub with me to wash my back."

The sexual suggestion flew right over Misaki's head, who only nodded solemnly, lacing his fingers together in front of him and remaining silent. This caught Akihiko by surprise. He had been ready with about three more rules of things Misaki did and did not need to do for him, mainly things to keep the boy from becoming too stressed over the situation. But Misaki's compliance didn't sit well with the novelist, and he stared carefully at him, trying to gauge just what his lover might be thinking.

"Misaki, come here."

Misaki seemed to shrink in his spot, eyes lowering to the floor as his fingers moved up to grip at his own shirt nervously. "I can't..."

"Why the hell not?"

"It's... It's too scary..."

"What?" Akihiko now seemed genuinely confused. "Why in the world am I scary?"

"Aren't you mad?" he half-whispered, suddenly finding himself trembling again.

"Mad? At who? You?" The older man just couldn't seem to wrap his head around the situation, though he had to wonder if that was because of the head injury provided graciously by his driver-side window and a front fender. "Should I be mad about something? I suppose I'm upset with the other driver, but that's nothing a little lawsuit won't take care of. Aikawa already explained it was partially my fault anyway..."

"No, I-I mean..." Misaki stuttered, finding the tense moment he was suddenly creating very constricting and the most terrifying ordeal of his life. He'd had so many shocking and surprising moments while living with his mentor, but nothing amounted to the guilt and stress weighing heavily on his heart at that moment. If Akihiko told him he was mad, that he blamed him, Misaki wasn't quite sure what he would do in response, other than cry. He wasn't sure how to apologize, how to compensate for the damage he'd done, or could've done.

"Misaki? Why are you crying?"

The boy jerked up, not having realized how wet his cheeks had become, and flushed with embarrassment. Akihiko's face held concern, though like always, it was barely visible behind his stoicism.

"Misaki, look at me. I'm fine. My arm is broken, that's it. I'll be out of here in no time."

"I shouldn't have argued with you!" The words were blurted out before he could stop them, catching them both by surprise, Akihiko more so than Misaki. But as shocking as it had been, it couldn't be taken back, and Misaki was suddenly stuck in the awkward situation of needing to explain himself while trying to keep in tact the dam that was quickly rupturing inside of him. He could feel the heat of the tears behind his eyes that wanted so badly to come flooding out with his words and pleads for forgiveness, and the sudden onslaught of tiny hiccups seemed to help keep his words at bay, despite how much he wanted to explain himself.

"Argued? When?" Akihiko responded, though he had a faint idea to what Misaki might have been referring.

"... Over the phone..." the student answered, his guilt swallowing him whole as his body shook, eyes never daring to lift themselves past the floor. "I shouldn't... I shouldn't have argued with you when you told me... not to see Sumi... I should've just agreed with you... Then you wouldn't have rushed home like this... You wouldn't have-"

"Stop right there." The command was firm, nearly thundering in the small room and startling Misaki into glimpsing up at the suddenly upset man laying on the bed. "Don't you dare blame this on yourself, Misaki. Don't you even let that thought cross your mind."

"But it has," Misaki argued on impulse, his mouth on auto-pilot. "It's all I've been thinking about. It's eating at me. I can't stop thinking about how I... I got you hurt... how I almost got you killed..."

The next series of events took Misaki completely by surprise, and happened far too quickly for his mind to register. Where Akihiko had seemed quite weak and immobile before, now he was quick and almost as strong as he would be had he not just been pulled from the wreckage of two cars. He had somehow managed to climb from his cot, pulling the oxygen tube and IV drip from his body, throwing the sheets to the side, and storming rather haphazardly straight to his young lover. The anger was evident on the man's face, and it frightened Misaki, who could never recall a day in his life where he'd ever been afraid of this man.

Akihiko towered over Misaki with such great intimidation that the boy instinctively fell several steps backwards until he was pressed against the wall, his mentor following until he could put a hand on the wall beside Misaki's head as if to keep him from running away. It was as if his strength had never left him, power and a daunting swiftness emanating from him as he leaned down to level his eyes with Misaki's, drawing in his full attention with an expression of anger lightly topped with weariness.

"Listen to me, Misaki," he started, his voice as deep and commanding as Misaki always remembered it, and he felt he had no choice but to fall completely into the man's presence. "You did not put me in the hospital. You had nothing to do with this. I lost my head and took the car. Me. Don't you, for a single second, try to take the blame for any of this. If I even hear one more word out of you about being at fault, I will not forgive you."

Misaki felt trapped, in a way. His heavy guilt kept him from trying to duck out of the man's grasp, though he was sure he could get away, what with the fatigue that was clearly evident in the man's shaking arms. The mental hold Akihiko seemed to have on him didn't help either. It was like his piercing, angry eyes had a vice grip on the crestfallen boy, ready to smack some sense into him if need be. But it wouldn't hold up forever; Akihiko eventually let his gaze fall as his shoulders sagged. He was about to collapse, and Misaki had to move quickly to catch him as best as he could, despite that the man was twice his size in body mass.

"Usagi, you shouldn't have gotten up. The nurses are gonna yell at me now," Misaki whined, leading his lover back over to the suddenly much more comfortable bed. Akihiko took a keen notice to how he had worded that sentence. Normally, he imagined Misaki would've said "The nurses are gonna yell at you." But the novelist couldn't help but think that poor burdened Misaki was currently trying to redirect all the guilt towards himself to better accommodate Akihiko, regardless of how at fault he was for anything. The man groaned in both frustration and pain as he was shifted back into laying down.

Misaki straightened out the sheets around him, but as he turned to reach for the long-forgotten oxygen tube, he was suddenly yanked down by his arm, forced to fall directly over Akihiko. He tried to catch himself before he tumbled over, but the man had a sudden grip on his shoulders and was pulling him down into a forceful kiss. The student's eyes were wide in surprise for a long moment before recognition took him over and he tried to pull out of the unusual advance, but Akihiko wouldn't have any of it. His kiss was merciless, not even daring to give Misaki a moment to breathe as he pushed his lips hard against his lover's, coaxing his mouth open with his tongue to better the intimacy. A shudder ran through Misaki's body, tearing a slight whimper from him as he attempted to better adjust himself on the bed, wary of Akihiko's hurt shoulder.

After a long, sensual moment, the novelist released his trembling lover, but only for a moment. Hooking a hand around the back of his neck to only allow him up so much, he stared straight up into Misaki's wide brown eyes, intent on getting his full attention.

"You didn't acknowledge what I said before, Misaki. Was I clear?"

Misaki was breathless, awkwardly posed over Akihiko as the man spoke straight into his soul.

"Misaki... Nothing that happened was your fault. Let it go. Everything is okay now." The gaze turned softer. "Please don't hurt yourself for this."

Misaki knew he didn't mean it on a physical level; Misaki was anything but self-destructive. It had simply been words of love. Akihiko didn't want Misaki to tear himself up inside over the issue of who was to blame, but that was easier said than done. The boy knew the hatred he felt for himself was cemented inside him, weighing down everything he did, from walking to thinking, and it would remain that way until he could somehow find the strength to forgive himself. Misaki wanted nothing more than to believe Akihiko, but his heart just wouldn't allow it.

Misaki had to appease his lover somehow, so rather than wholeheartedly agree as he knew Akihiko would want, the boy nodded solemnly, forcing out a small smile, aware that the man on the bed could clearly see how fake the response was and how it belied his intentions. It was enough for then, though, and Akihiko released Misaki, watching him carefully as he pulled a chair to the bedside and sat patiently as if awaiting commands. It was a sad sight, Akihiko thought, to see Misaki so apathetic and listless.

Several moments passed, wherein Misaki simply sat at Akihiko's side, just listening to him breathe and trying to find some amusement by the passing phases or boredom and annoyance that played on his lover's face from time to time. But really, there was no humor to be found in that room, and there wouldn't be for the next hour, even when the two had managed to strike up a rather nonchalant conversation about little things that usually would hold no interest to either of them. Misaki was simply glad to hear the other man's voice, knowing all too well that the conversation on the phone could've been the last time he'd have had the chance to hear it. So he listened intently to every syllable, every nook of the deep tone, letting the familiar voice waft into his ears as a deep appreciation for the novelist's life rooted itself in his brain.

At the other end of the conversation, Akihiko seemed to be having far more difficulty absorbing the moment than his young lover was. The struggle to keep the words moving was apparent on Misaki's face, and the forced placidity was doing nothing more than unnerving him, which was a rather hard thing to do to Akihiko Usami. Misaki's calm demeanor mixed with the constant twitching of his brown eyes, as if he was constantly checking to see if Akihiko was hurt somewhere, and the slight tenseness of his body just made the injured man realize how not at calm the boy genuinely was. On the outside, he was levelheaded and ready to return to his reality with Usagi, but on the inside, Akihiko knew, Misaki was reduced back into the crying child who blamed himself solely for the loss of people so important to him. Misaki was at the mercy of his merciless guilt, and Akihiko suddenly grew scared that no amount of consoling would mend his terrified heart.

Part 2 end - to be continued

AN: The final installment approaches soon... Get ready for the feels.