Hiroki glared down at the essay he was grading, pinching his lips together as the creases between his eyebrows deepened. Oh, how he wished he could have another summer break. At least it was Friday.

"Mmm… Miyagi… ahn," panted a voice behind Hiroki. Hiroki shut his eyes in frustration. "Please… come home right now… I need it…"

"Hehe, Shinobu-chin, I can't just leave work! I have work to do, love!"

"But Miyagi…"

"Shino- ah! Urk… Shinobu-chin, I know you're anxious, but not here! Wait until I get ho- ah!"

Hiroki slammed his mechanical pencil down onto the table and whirled around in his chair. Shinobu, who was kneading Miyagi's groin with one hand and yanking his tie down with the other, snapped his gaze to Hiroki. They had a scowl-down, glaring at each other heatedly. Shinobu turned up his nose and turned to the side, flaunting his significantly larger stomach. Hiroki bared his teeth and laid his hand over his own baby bump. He resented Shinobu- the damn brat still managed to look absolutely adorable while pregnant. With twins, even.

"Alright, Shinobu-chin," Miyagi said hastily, herding a bristling Shinobu towards the door. "I'll be home soon, I promise."

"You better bring the ibuprofen," Shinobu growled before spinning on his heel and stomping out of the room. Miyagi whimpered, nervously yanking the hem of his shirt down as he thought of the impending doom upon his manhood.

"Why do you keep bringing that punk in here?" Hiroki asked, grunting as he hauled himself to his feet. He went to the bookshelf and searched for his trusty grammar book.

"Because he looks damn sexy with a baby bump," Miyagi said immediately. Hiroki cringed slightly, looking over his shoulder at a smirking Miyagi.

"You're joking."

"No, I'm serious. I never knew I had a pregnancy fetish until Shinobu's belly got nice and big," Miyagi said. He licked his lips slightly and leaned back in his chair, smiling dazedly. "I mean, before he got pregnant he was a bony little guy. Now he's got a nice, supple, juicy ass."

Hiroki's pupils dilated slightly as Miyagi bit his lip and leaned forward again to cup his hands in the air, clenching and unclenching his fingers as if Shinobu's bottom was in his grasp.

"You're a sick fuck, you dirty old man," Hiroki spat disgustedly, grabbing his grammar book and stomping back to his desk. He flopped down in his chair, but when he turned away from Miyagi, he frowned. Miyagi had a sick fetish for pregnancy and actually found Shinobu's largeness attractive, but with Nowaki's distance as of late… where was Hiroki in his lover's eyes?

"Kamijou, you're looking troubled again," Miyagi said, his voice solemn. Hiroki rolled his eyes.

"It's nothing."

"I think it's something."

"It's nothing!"

Hiroki propped his elbows on his desk, putting his head in his hands. He heard Miyagi's office chair roll up behind him.

"Kamijou?"

"I really… Miyagi, I appreciate everything you've done for me and Nowaki. I really do. But this time, I don't think anything you say will help."

There was a long pause.

"You know, Kamijou, I'm not just here for advice. I mean… I've got some tissues over there on my desk, and I've got a pretty big shoulder, so…"

Hiroki slowly swiveled in his office chair, his face contorted with emotion. Miyagi shrugged and held out his arms. Hiroki, however, stood and trudged to the door of the office, where he grabbed his book bag. He brought it back to his desk to shove the grammar book and his stack of essays into it.

"I'm sorry, Professor Miyagi, but I feel sick. I'm going home," Hiroki muttered, hooking his bag on his shoulder and averting his eyes as he squeezed the handle.

"Please feel better. I'll see you on Monday," Miyagi said, smiling sympathetically at Hiroki. Hiroki nodded before walking out of the office. He shied away from the stares of passersby in the hallway to the front entrance. He ignored the whispers about his size, just like he did every day. He ignored the stares that studied his body. He ignored the group of college freshmen who compared him to a pear and snickered at him as he passed. His face remained impassive as he brushed off all who opposed him.

But by the time he was shuffling down the steps that let up to M University, he was clutching his bag so hard that it felt like his knuckles were going to break. Hiroki stared hard at the ground, holding back the tears that were beginning to form with all of his strength. If strangers he hardly even knew were beginning to notice his stomach and make fun of it, then Nowaki, who saw him every day, would surely be disgusted.

Hiroki walked briskly down the sidewalk, wanting to get as far away from the university as possible. Once he was sure he was out of sight of any students or faculty members from M University, he took a break from his fast-paced walking and reached into his bag. He pulled out a gallon bag full of snacks that Nowaki had packed him, complete with three chocolate chip granola bars, a sandwich bag of trail mix, and another sandwich bag of pretzels. Hiroki's stomach growled as he peeled the bag open and pulled out the trail mix. He went to a nearby bench and sat down with his snack bag in his lap. Just as he was about to eat an M out of the trail mix, he stopped and realized what he was doing.

"God damn it," Hiroki cursed, clenching his jaw. There he went again. One moment he was almost to tears with embarrassment for being so disgustingly huge, and a second later he was eating again.

Disgusting.

Hiroki stood from the bench and walked to a nearby trashcan, the snack bag extended in front of him. He hovered over the trashcan for a moment, however, finding himself unable to throw the food away.

Hiroki finally burst into tears as he shoved the snacks in his book bag and began walking in the direction of the apartment again. With every step, his stomach roared at him in protest, making his body tremble with hunger. Hiroki sniffled as he broke into a light jog, thinking exercise would make him feel better. Within seconds he was panting, however, and with a soft sob, he sank to his knees right on the sidewalk. He wrapped his arms around his baby bump, squeezing in a weak attempt to make it shrink.

After a few moments of weeping, Hiroki shakily hauled himself to his feet, wiping away his tears with one balled fists. Hanging his head, he slowly began to walk once more.

"Hiro-san? Is that you?" called a voice as Hiroki walked in through the front door of the apartment. Nowaki suddenly appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, stepping out into the hallway. He was wiping his hands off on a towel

"I'm home," Hiroki mumbled, slipping out of his shoes and shuffling into the house.

"Welcome home. You're back early today. Come on into the kitchen, I'll make you some lunch," Nowaki said, his voice dull and listless. Hiroki knew he had been deep in thought again.

"Um… I'm not very hungry. I just want to lie down for a while," Hiroki lied, looking down.

"You should probably have something to eat, Hiro-san," Nowaki said, turning to walk into the kitchen. Hiroki followed him, but stopped at the doorway, leaning against the frame.

"I'm seriously not hungry," Hiroki muttered.

"Just sit down," Nowaki said irritably, not turning to look at Hiroki as he went to the refrigerator and rummaged inside of it to find something for his lover to eat. Hiroki frowned and begrudgingly went to the kitchen table. He pulled out a chair and sat down, plopping his book bag onto the table. However, he didn't prop it up right and it tipped over. The snack bag he had carelessly shoved inside the book bag fell out onto the floor, and trail mix spilled in all directions. Nowaki whirled around in surprise as Hiroki cursed under his breath and slipped out of his chair to kneel on the floor and begin to pick up the pieces.

"Sorry," Hiroki said. Nowaki knelt opposite of him and helped clean the mess.

"Don't strain yourself, Hiro-san. Let me get it," Nowaki said flatly. Hiroki sat back on his heels and flushed scarlet in embarrassment, clenching his fists in his lap as he watched his lover pick up his spill. Nowaki reached for another piece, but his hand faltered as he spotted the still-full pretzel bag on the floor. He then spotted the bigger bag, noticing the three granola bars were still there. Nowaki glanced up at Hiroki, his brows furrowed.

"Wh-What?" Hiroki stammered stiffly. Nowaki picked up the pretzel bag and showed it to Hiroki.

"What's this?" he asked softly, dangerously.

"Pretzels."

"Have you had anything to eat today besides breakfast?" Nowaki asked, his voice rising slightly. Hiroki shuddered, wishing he could disappear into a hole. Along with his recent distance, Nowaki had also seemed to take on a rather angry, menacing attitude. With Hiroki's severe drop in self-esteem, their roles had almost completely switched.

Hiroki absolutely hated it.

"N-No," Hiroki whispered sheepishly.

"You can't do that, Hiro-san," Nowaki scolded harshly. "You've got to eat."

Hiroki cringed as Nowaki got to his feet to throw away the trail mix pieces cupped in his hand. He stomped back up to Hiroki and sharply offered him his hand. Hiroki took it hesitantly and squeaked as he was yanked to his feet.

"Sit down, Hiro-san. I'm making you lunch, and you're going to eat all of it."

Hiroki sulked as Nowaki stormed around the kitchen, preparing a meal. Soon, the kitchen table was full of an array of different foods from all of the important food groups. Hiroki didn't move to eat anything, waiting for Nowaki to leave the kitchen. However, Nowaki stood over the table, his arms crossed.

"Wh-What?" Hiroki asked softly.

"I'm going to stand here until you eat everything," Nowaki said firmly. Hiroki gasped and looked up at Nowaki.

"But you have work in an hour!"

"Better get eating, then."

Hiroki hastily looked down at his meal, refusing to show Nowaki his eyes as they began to swim. He shakily picked up his chopsticks and set to work. As he ate under the sharp gaze of Nowaki, he let his mind wander. He wondered about what had happened to suddenly cause such a plummet in their relationship. It felt like one day they had been happy and full of love for each other, then the next everything had been thrown out of balance. Nowaki had grown so preoccupied and irritable that Hiroki could barely see a trace of his doting, corny, big oaf of a lover anymore. Loving words hadn't been shared in weeks, never mind sex. Hiroki was beginning to feel as pent up as he did during Nowaki's month of medical research, if not worse.

Where was Nowaki, and what was the Kamijou the Devil-like personality that had possessed his body?

Hiroki bit back a whimper as he finally finished his meal. He put his head down on the table as Nowaki silently strode from the kitchen to the bedroom so he could get ready for work. Hiroki could almost feel the waves of anger rolling off Nowaki's usually gentle shoulders. Hiroki hunched his shoulders, sniffling softly in the crooks of his arms.

"I'm leaving. I'll be home later tonight. Don't wait up for me," Nowaki called several minutes later. He didn't wait for an answer from Hiroki as the door opened and slammed shut. Hiroki waited for a few moments before lifting his head from his arms. His eyes glazing over, he slowly stood from his chair and stumbled towards the bathroom.

Once there, he grabbed his toothbrush from its holder and knelt in front of the toilet. With quivering, frightened hands, he raised the toothbrush handle to his mouth and put it in, shakily moving the handle farther and farther back.

Hiroki suddenly realized what he was doing, horrified and disgusted with himself. He shifted to remove the toothbrush handle from his mouth, but he accidentally brushed it against the back of his throat. Hiroki's body convulsed and he yanked the toothbrush handle out of his mouth as he gagged, his mouth stretching open in preparation for the incoming vomit.

No… no! I don't want this! Hiroki's mind desperately screamed. Hiroki frantically tried to close his mouth and block the torrent of liquid, but it was too late. His back arched as he retched his entire lunch into the toilet, the acid of the vomit stinging his nose and making his eyes water. Hiroki cried into the porcelain bowl, half in pain and half in revulsion. Hiroki remained slumped against the toilet long after his vomiting had ended, weeping silently to himself.

He wished he had had big, gentle hands to hold his hair back and warm arms to comfort him.