Misaki half ran out of his lecture hall, face still bright red from humiliation. His mobile had gone off halfway through the lecturer's speech, and he'd had to grab his pocket in an attempt to silence the noise. His beetroot red face had given him away however, and the lecturer had shouted himself hoarse at Misaki before he was allowed to go. He counted his blessings that it hadn't been the Demon Teacher himself, Hiroki Kamijo, otherwise Misaki had the feeling he would have ended up with much worse than a headache.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, malicious scowl darkening his entire face. His mood did not improve in the slightest when he saw the mystery caller's name; Usagi-san.
"The nerve of that guy! Misaki grumbled as he dialled his voicemail to check the message Usami had left for him. "That guy has no appreciation for anyone else's -" He was cut off mid-rant as he listened to the message.
At first, he could only hear Usami's voice, sounding low and unusually gravelly, whispering his name. This was quickly followed by a deafening clunk, and Misaki jumped when he heard it, startled. He could then hear a very muffled voice, before the line went dead. At first, the teenager didn't move. And then, very slowly, he pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it, nestled in the palm of his hand. As his fingers tightened around the mobile, he took off at a full pelted sprint towards the front gates of his university, heart thumping painfully in his chest.
What had happened? Why had Usami called him when he knew full well he was at university? And what was with the worrying message? These questions were buzzing around Misaki's brain like insects as he ran. His hand gripped the phone tighter subconsciously when a single thought strayed into his mind; 'What if something's happened to Usagi-san?'
Misaki skidded to a halt and leant against the wall of the entrance to the university. The street outside was full of cars, but the red sports car he had begun to watch for every day was missing. Misaki felt a stab of blind panic shoot through him, and he instantly began to dial Usami's phone. He gripped the device to his ear so tightly, he could hear the plastic creaking, but he didn't loosen his hold. In fact, as the ringing continued, it tightened further. When he heard Usagi's voicemail filtering through the phone, Misaki hung it up and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself.
Usagi had phoned him randomly in the middle of one of his lectures, something he had never done before. He had then left a worrying voicemail, and now wasn't answering his phone. Misaki mulled this over in his mind as he took several deep breaths trying to calm himself. He eventually came to two conclusions. Either Usami was playing a trick on him which was a whole new level of low, or.. He was in serious trouble.
Misaki's eyes flew open and he took off down the street, sprinting as hard as he could for Usami's apartment. He couldn't believe that Usami would play a trick like that on him, ever. So, that left one option. Misaki's other hand curled into a tightly balled fist as he ran down the street; hard enough to pierce his skin. He felt terrible. He had left the apartment that morning with the air between them filled with tension. If Usami had been in an accident.. Misaki shook his head wildly. He wouldn't jump to any conclusions and worry himself unnecessarily. For all he knew, Usami could have been fast asleep on the sofa back home, or he hadn't heard his phone ringing. That was plausible too, wasn't it?
"He's going to fine.." Misaki whispered under his breath as he forced himself to run even harder. "He's waiting for me to come back.. He's passed out from exhaustion.. He's fine!"
When Misaki burst through the door of the apartment, despite his frankly feeble attempts at convincing himself everything was fine, his heart was thumping in his throat, he felt sick with panic and his mind was full of images of Usami lying in a pool of his own blood somewhere. He called out the novelist's nickname at the top of his voice, but this met no response. Panicking even further, Misaki dropped his bag at the foot of the door and ran straight to Usami's study. Without even bothering to knock, he burst in. Ice cold fingers gripped his heart when he noticed that the room was completely empty. And judging from how cold the door handle had been, Misaki felt safe in assuming that nobody had opened it that day.
Trying in vain to calm himself, Misaki shut the door and headed straight for Usami's bedroom, hoping against hope that the man was curled up underneath the sheets. For once, Misaki didn't care whether he would pay the usual price for interrupting the novelist's sleeping time; he just wanted to know that the man was safe. But the bed was empty. Feeling sicker with every passing moment, Misaki systematically checked each room of the apartment, but each was the same as the last; utterly deserted.
Breathing deeply, trying to clear his thoughts of the images that were now slowly getting more and more graphic, Misaki made his way back down into the dining room where he took a seat at the table. He dropped his mobile onto the tabletop and propped his elbows next to it, his head hanging in his hands. He felt at a complete loss. He was scared, scared that for the second time in his life there had been a horrible accident to someone he cared deeply about, and it had been his entire fault.
Misaki didn't know when the tears started. All he knew was that when he fell back against the back of his chair, his face was sodden and the table below where he had just positioned his head was splattered in tear drops. He rubbed his eyes frantically, but it did little to stem the flow. Once he started crying after all, he couldn't stop. He remembered the last time he had cried as hard as he was now; it had been just after his brother had announced his engagement to himself and Usami. Misaki hadn't been able to bear the pain etched all over the novelist, and had almost dragged him out of the house under the premise of buying more alcohol. It was in the middle of the street that he had begun to cry, and he and Usami had shared their first meaningful kiss. Misaki whimpered as he remembered the way the man's head and dropped to his shoulder, and he had started to cry as well.
"You've got to be okay, Usagi-san.." Misaki pleaded desperately, hands raking through his hair as he sobbed.
That was when the phone began to ring, startling Misaki so much he almost fell from his chair. His heart leapt as he continued to listen to the noise. It was Usami, telling him that he'd gone out for a while but was on his way back. Rubbing his face free from tears, Misaki jumped to his feet and practically flew to the phone. He picked it up with a beaming smile on his face, but this quickly dissolved into a frown when Aikawa's voice filtered through the mouthpiece.
"Misaki-kun?" She asked. Her voice sounded odd to the teenager too; as if she were struggling to keep her composure.
"Yes?" He replied.
She sighed with relief, but continued to speak in the same restricted tone. "Misaki-kun, I have some very bad news.."
Misaki's heart leapt back into his mouth, and he gripped the phone with both hands. "W.. What..?"
"Usami-san is in an intensive care unit at the hospital.. He.. He had an accident today in his car.. I.. He's stable at the moment, but he's not waking up.. I didn't want to phone you any earlier in case.." She trailed off.
Misaki couldn't speak. He couldn't breathe. It felt as if a hand made of ice had grabbed his heart and was squeezing it as tightly as possible. At once, the image of Usami lying on the floor changed to one of him trapped inside his car, bleeding profusely, fading in and out of consciousness. And then, the one thing that could make it worse; he whispered Misaki's name. Misaki felt tears gathering in his eyes once again.
"Misaki-kun..?"
Misaki jolted, realising with a pang Aikawa was still on the phone. He swallowed a fresh wave of tears, and spoke to her, even though his voice had become restricted too. "Come and get me, Aikawa-san."
"N.. No Misaki-kun, you shouldn't -"
"Come and get me or I'm walking to the hospital myself!" Misaki shouted, before hanging up the phone.
Without pausing, he turned and ran through the horribly quiet apartment, flew up the stairs and crashed into his bedroom. He pulled open his wardrobe and began to throw clothes at random into a bag on the floor. He didn't care what the hospital staff said about visitors not being allowed to stay; he was not leaving Usami's side. Staying in the apartment would be far too painful for him anyway.
As Misaki switched to his drawers and began to pick up underwear, his open door caught his eye. Like a knife to the chest, he remembered how he had cowered against it that very morning, wishing that Usami would leave him be. Now, he wanted nothing more than for the man to appear, wrap his arms around him and never let him go. Misaki sniffed and turned away, slamming the drawer with a snap.
"You better be okay, stupid Usagi.." He whimpered.
An hour later, and he and Aikawa were walking through the doors of the hospital. The journey over had been a rather tense one. She had spent half of it trying to convince Misaki that he didn't want to see Usami in the state he was in; it would be too traumatic. Misaki knew that she meant well, but it still angered him. He felt that she was trying to keep him from Usami. After Misaki had more or less snapped that at her, they had both lapsed into silence. And now that they had arrived at the hospital, they still weren't speaking.
Aikawa spoke to the nurse behind the desk, who directed them to Usami's room after informing them that it shouldn't be anyone other than family visiting him. She explained that she was his sister, and Misaki her young son. The nurse didn't look that convinced, but as she had no real way of proving Aikawa's story to be false, she shooed them on their way.
They climbed the stairs in awkward silence. Misaki still felt incredibly sick, but he wasn't sure which he preferred; not knowing what had happened to Usami or knowing full well. His grip on his bag tightened as they continued to climb. He could feel tears clogging up the back of his throat as he followed Aikawa, but he swallowed hard. He refused to cry again. He breathed heavily, trying to calm himself. Ever since arriving at the hospital, Misaki had been trying desperately to think of what he would say to Usami when he saw him, but he had so far drawn several blanks.
All too soon, Aikawa veered away from the next flight of steps and headed towards a door. Misaki's breathing hitched and he very nearly broke down there and then. Aikawa heard him and turned. Her face was a picture of sympathy.
"Misaki-kun, you don't have to -"
"Yes I do.." Misaki said, sounding stronger than he felt. He walked past her and opened the door.
The sight that met his eyes made him feel several times worse. The floor they were on opened in a long winding corridor with several different rooms branching off of it. Several doctors and nurses hurried past them as they walked, side by side, down the corridor. Misaki inhaled and had to resist the strong urge to gag; the scent of disinfectant was strong in the air. Suddenly, he didn't feel so confident he'd be able to see Usami after all. Just walking down the corridor was pressing an invisible weight down on him, slowing him down.
"He's in here." Aikawa said softly, extending her arm towards a door in front of them. Misaki shuddered from head to foot. "Are you certain you want to see him?"
That question was all it took. The shield Misaki had built up around himself shattered and in front of Aikawa, he burst into tears once again. She turned away from the door and pressed him to her, wrapping her arms around him. Misaki knew she was trying to comfort him, but it felt wrong. Her arms weren't Usami's and she didn't smell of him. Misaki felt trapped, racked with his own guilt. He couldn't face Usami. He couldn't make himself enter that room knowing full well that every scar marring Usami's body was his fault.
Misaki pulled away from Aikawa roughly and took off down the corridor, ignoring her shouts that followed him. He had to get out of there, away from the guilt.
