He Is
[A/N] So many reviews! I'm drowning in them (and the resulting happiness)! Having said that I regret to tell y'all that things certainly ain't gonna go so smooth from here. *wonders why she gets a Southern drawl in text when feeling playful* Shoulda told you to enjoy the fluff while it lasted. Now we're just getting ansgtier.
Oh, and brace yerselves fer an all-out canon bloodbath. :D
oOo
He's an idiot.
A blundering kid.
Hiroki was now back at his table, unsure of whom to call with the phone he was staring at, wondering why he even wanted to call anyone at all.
Nowaki really was an abandoned child; Nowaki was a brilliant student; Nowaki had been thrown out his apartment by his adoptive brother; Nowaki had held his hand.
Nowaki held my hand.
In spite of himself, Hiroki felt a smile stretch across his face. It's not like he's the only one who's ever done that. Not when Usami Akihiko had already tried to keep him warm in a similar manner one winter's evening…and failed miserably.
Akihiko's hands are so cold. Nowaki's were the warmest Hiroki had ever felt. He raised his own hand, the one that had been so tenderly grasped, to his face and studied it meditatively; every crease that lined his palm, every papercut, every knuckle still tingling with the heat of another.
With his hands Hiroki had turned countless pages of countless books. He had eaten tens of thousands of meals that he remembered and did not remember. He had run the long fingers through his hair in infinite moments of frustration…and a different form of that frustration had caused the same hands to know the most intimate places of his own body.
His hands carried his life. And Nowaki had touched them.
And unlike Usami Akihiko, he had not chilled Hiroki's skin to the bone in doing so.
He's the one I want to call, Hiroki thought suddenly. He was craving Nowaki's voice. An unseen blush crept higher on his face as he realized that his student's voice was certainly not the only thing that he was craving. He shook his head violently at nothing in particular. I'm not calling him. Not when I'm going to see him tomorrow. Just thinking about it made his heart soar absurdly.
'Tomorrow, Hiro-san.'
Nowaki had not needed to say forever or all my life. The simple promise that he would be back at least one more time was enough. Even if it made all of Hiroki burn with a need that he was both thrilled and mortified to feel—even if the brown-eyed man would spend the next twenty-odd hours with just one thing on his mind—it was enough. As long as I see him again.
'Idiot', he mumbled. I'm the idiot here.
He pushed his phone away with a determined air before rising to get his laptop. If he was going to see Nowaki so soon again he would damn well make it worth the boy's while. I have apartments to look up now.
Somehow, though, he had a feeling that just their meeting would make it worth Nowaki's while anyway. The thought caused his not-quite-gone blush to intensify.
Idiot. He's an idiot too. An idiot for whom Hiroki's heart was beating so fast that he had to remind himself to breathe. He made a noise of impatience and pretended that it was aimed at the laptop, which was admittedly taking its own time to start up.
Hiroki had a sneaking suspicion that his phone call that day had something to do with this; it made him feel guilty and ridiculously relieved at the thought that he had unwittingly set Nowaki free, too. Now if only he had a place to live.
I need to find him some place he can call home. This resolve twinged somewhat, fueled by his unconscious assumption that Nowaki's home was not currently where he, Hiroki, was.
I want to see him soon.
So what is this in the end? Hiroki smiled, small and knowing this time. Why do I even bother to ask myself that question now?
oOo
The doorbell rang an entire half hour early; Hiroki looked up from his customary trying-to-read posture, a book in his hands and a pencil in the corner of his mouth. Despite the pleasant pounding of his heart, something in the unscheduled change seemed to bode ill.
It might not be Nowaki. He nodded firmly to himself and rose to open the door, not bearing to take a shortcut by using the peephole, though he would have regretted his decision had it been anybody else.
For reasons unknown to himself, he found himself praying that it wasn't Nowaki as he turned the doorknob. As soon as the person at his doorstep came into view, Hiroki gasped.
It was most certainly Nowaki. He was disheveled and his clothes were decidedly dirty, a glaring contrast with his usual tidy appearance; he was also panting like he'd run the entire way from the train station, his face flushed with exertion, and his eyes were flaming red.
This last detail spurred Hiroki into action.
'Nowaki?' he asked sharply, stepping aside to let him in. 'What's wrong?'
The boy shook his head listlessly as he followed Hiroki into the apartment, after kicking off his shoes in the most ungainly manner that the older man had ever seen him employ. His insides twisted with the most painful curiosity; Nowaki had never seemed so utterly shaken.
'Nowaki', Hiroki said urgently, stepping closer to him. Blue eyes rose to meet his and he was pierced by how lost they were.
'What happened to you?' It was the second time in two days he had asked his student the same question, but after the events of the previous evening, with all of his unspoken, unthought expectations and worries, this was infinitely more probing than it had been the first time.
Nowaki did not smile. After a moment of what appeared to be deep contemplation of no discernible object, he murmured, 'Hiro-san…'
'Yes?' said Hiroki immediately; his hand rose of its own accord, seeking to somehow reassure Nowaki with the touch that had proven so effective in the past, and he felt his eyes widen when the boy shied away from the movement with a wordless exclamation of prohibition.
'I…I need a shower!' Nowaki gasped.
At least this is some form of progress, Hiroki told himself. 'Okay', he replied patiently. 'You can have a shower. When you're done, will you tell me what happened?'
Nowaki seemed to consider, then nodded. 'But I need a shower first…I'm filthy…' he mumbled; his eyes dropped to the ground. His tutor hesitated briefly before extending his hand again, but it was stopped in mid-motion by a larger one encircling his wrist. Hiroki looked up to find brilliant, hollow blue gazing at him with such softness as to make his own eyes water from the strength of the emotion they induced in him.
'Only my hands, Hiro-san', Nowaki whispered. 'They're the only part of me that's clean right now.' He bowed his head so his eyes were blocked from view and Hiroki was left to gaze dumbly at his thick, rumpled hair.
It was a while before the older man's wrist was released to let fingers meet fingers instead, if only for a moment, before their contact was broken altogether and Nowaki turned away. Hiroki knew that by logic he was perfect liberty to ask the boy any number of questions—and he certainly had several of those—but not only would it do no good at present, he was somehow absolutely certain that what he needed was to let him be. At least until he got his shower.
So he simply said to Nowaki's broad, slumped back, 'The bathroom's the first door as you go in.'
But he'll need a change of clothes too…his jeans don't look too dirty. 'Leave the door unlocked, so I can put your shirt in the washing machine after you take them off', he added; it was a mark of how serious the situation was that nothing perverted came to either man's mind. The dark head simply bobbed in agreement before making its way over to the door in question and disappearing behind it.
Hiroki let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and slumped to the floor.
What the hell was that?
He could name half a dozen horrible things off the top of his head, but did not care to inspect what his imagination was offering him…speculating would do no good when the truth was just a few minutes away. He tried his hardest not to think as he gathered up enough feeling in his legs to enter the bathroom and retrieve Nowaki's grimy shirt. He's just a sheet of wood away, and he's stark naked. It meant nothing to him. Not in the face of his need to know what was wrong.
Once the offending garment was in the washing machine, Hiroki forced himself to sit at the table and not curled up near the shower door. He had every intention of buttonholing the boy the moment he exited the shower and demanding answers, even if he knew that his concern, more than his pride, would not permit him to do so anyway.
He wallowed in his questions and tried not to let answers seep in.
But five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen and Nowaki had not emerged. Hiroki frowned at the bathroom door. On any given day he would have waited for his student to come out. As of now he had no patience left.
At least, that was what he told himself. It's only because I'm running out of patience now. He was up and walking towards the door. Not because I think he may have tried to kill himself—or passed out—or drowned somehow—
Nothing's going to happen. Nothing's going to happen.
The shower door slid open. Through the steam and the rain of the showerhead, he could see Nowaki slumped against the wall, chest heaving softly, evidently unconscious…and completely naked.
Naked, his mind repeated again, before it blanked and Hiroki was on his knees in the shower, clothes and all, his hands on the now shiny clean shoulders and shaking frantically. 'Nowaki!' he hissed. 'Nowaki, get up!'
Nowaki twitched a little, but gave no other response. The older man swore under his breath and then aloud. 'Nowaki!' he yelled again, before lunging for the taps to turn off the shower so he could see straight. The firm, lightly muscled chest was rising and falling in a steady pattern—perhaps harder than it should have been, but otherwise normal. His pulse appeared regular too, so there was only one, enormously relieving explanation: Nowaki was fast asleep.
It was the lightest he had ever felt after such panic.
'Thank god', Hiroki mumbled dazedly, even his impatience temporarily quelled by his gladness. He fought the urge to clutch the tall boy to his chest; the only reason he could stop himself was his mind returning to remind him, like a parrot that knew only one word, of how naked Nowaki was. His eyes dipped south automatically and widened at the sight of the boy's member, formidable even when limp.
Indeed, the entirety of the long-limbed body before him was a sight to see, with lean, powerful muscles and baby-smooth skin and the incredibly handsome face that Hiroki had never quite been blind to. He allowed himself a few more seconds of admiration before leaning forward and slipping his arms under Nowaki's shoulders, trying not to slip on the wet floor as he got up, pulling the heavy body along with him.
oOo
Just how heavy is he? He wondered irritably, scowling at the sleeping face. He had somehow managed to pull and push Nowaki's long legs back into his jeans to give him some form of decency while his shirt dried, but no reserves of strength had proved sufficient to lug him onto the futon. He now lay on the floor, snuffling softly in his sleep. His brow was furrowed.
Hiroki felt his gaze soften against his will.
Nowaki…please wake up soon. He did not want to rouse the boy himself; if he had fallen asleep in the shower like that he evidently needed the rest. However, watching Nowaki sleep, so relaxed and vulnerable, rendered Hiroki completely incapable of doing anything else.
I just saw him naked in the shower. This is supposed to be a bit tamer than that.
On the contrary…Hiroki felt a sharp intimacy with the half-dressed, slumbering Nowaki that he had not felt with a hundred naked men. The desire to know what had happened to Nowaki and bloody well fix it multiplied exponentially as he slid to his knees beside the lanky body.
'…chi…'
The shaggy brown head jerked to attention. Nowaki was mumbling something under his breath; the furrow between his eyebrows deepened, and he seemed to turn away a little.
'Yuichi…'
Hiroki felt his heart grow cold.
Yuichi.
No. 'No', he whispered shakily. Had Yuichi done something to Nowaki or was the boy dreaming of him that way—
No.
'No', he said again, more firmly this time.
No. Not when I'm so close. Not when Nowaki's finally free. Not when—
Not when I'm in love with him—
Not now. Not ever.
'I won't accept it', Hiroki muttered furiously; he didn't stop to think. He couldn't. Not when I love him. Not when he is everything I want…
He was straddling Nowaki now, bending over him, supported by his elbows and knees, their faces closer than they had ever been.
That I never even knew I needed…
I don't have him yet, but I'm not letting him go.
It was a prayer, a command, a wish, everything; Hiroki lowered his head and let his lips meet Nowaki's.
oOo
[A/N] …and the best part is that I'm going to be off the map for six days straight, so no lightning update for you people now. Feel free to wonder. XD I'll be back in business by the ninth.
I love you, all my reviewers; no usual-style replies for this chapter because I'm literally finishing this with all my packing left and my grandparents are going berserk (suffice to say that they hid the modem and I went on a treasure hunt to find it), but just know that I cherish every single comment that I receive and that your thoughts are invaluable. Feedback is what keeps me going, and the response I get is simply wonderful.
Cerberus-sensei, Sakana-senpai, Slouph, Damons, Hana, AZ, Anon, Asdfghjklove - Thank you for the reviews. :D I look forward to them all.
Until the ninth/tenth, then! Hang in there now. *evil grin-turned innocent grin*