So, it's been a long time since I've written anything, especially for this. Hopefully, I have something good for you guys. Here goes.

One thing, I'm changing the POV from Misaki to the third person. I feel that I can portray what I want to happen more accurately this way.

WARNING: There will be non-explicit sex in this chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Junjou Romantica.

Misaki felt Akihiko's grip loosen in surprise, the noise cutting through the tension in the air like butter. Taking the small window of opportunity, the brunette ripped his arm from the author's grasp and made for the phone. Akihiko would be less likely to confront him again if there was a chance of someone overhearing.

"Hello?" Misaki greeted, slightly out of breath. The person on the other end chuckled quietly, and Misaki's blood froze. He would recognize that laugh anywhere. "What do you want?" his words were barely a breath, low enough that even Akihiko wouldn't be able to hear.

"Don't you see?" Haitani purred, and Misaki could see the dangerous smirk he would most definitely be wearing. "Usami Akihiko will never understand what you've been through. He only sees you as what you used to be."

"Fuck off," Misaki hissed, clenching his fists tightly and ignoring the zing of pain the action sent through his wounds.

"Okay, then," the criminal conceded agreeably. "However, the next time you see me, I will be standing over the corpse of your precious Usagi and Nii-san. If you change your mind, though, meet me at the park near your penthouse tonight before dawn. I might just have some mercy." Haitani gave another quiet chuckle and ended the call.

Misaki stiffened when he felt a cool hand on his shoulder. "Who was that?"

The brunette cleared his throat quietly, his mouth suddenly dry. "Wrong number." He gently placed the phone back in the receiver. The younger turned around but refused to look Akihiko in the eye. "I'm going to bed. There are leftovers in the refrigerator if you're hungry." Surprisingly, this time the author didn't follow after his ex-lover.

Despite his rising panic, Misaki forced himself to appear calm when he was locked safely in his room. After all, there was no telling whether Haitani had bugged the room, or even had a camera installed. It was likely, considering his timing with the phone call. So Misaki sat on the edge of the unmade bed and stared down at the angry, red word carved into his arm. The brunette would always belong to Haitani on some level, and the older man knew that.

Misaki forced his calm inward as well and considered his options. He took hold of one thought from the raging storm in his mind and focused solely on that. Akihiko and Takahiro would be dead soon, without a doubt, if Misaki didn't go to Haitani. And the criminal would make sure that Misaki saw every second of their suffering, right up to the moment they died.

The only outward sign of the man's distress was the ragged sigh he let out, and the slight shudder in his frame. There was no real choice. Misaki wouldn't allow the only people he had left to die at the hands of that man. He would make sure that they had a long, blissful life, whether they knew his sacrifice or not. Misaki brushed his fingers over the stitched wounds gently and let a soft sob go, tears falling onto the mark of lifelong belonging. Misaki would never have another free moment in his life after that night. He would be a slave to the whim of a psychotic criminal until his inevitably violent death.

With that thought, Misaki allowed himself to grieve his own freedom. Quiet, heart-wrenching sobs escaped the brunette's lips through the large lump in his throat. Misaki pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and cried.

"I don't want to go back to him," Misaki whispered to himself, voice breaking several times. Fear flashed through his body heatedly. "Why can't he leave me alone?" Whimpered pleas for mercy choked the young man until he could barely contain his voice. His body heaved suppressed cries of injustice.

A strange feeling came over Misaki when he heard pacing outside his room. If this was his last chance to be with Akihiko, the man he had always loved even when he was deep in denial, then to hell with grudges and the past. Misaki would grasp this final moment and make the most of it that he could.

Even when the brunette found himself unlocking his door, his hand on the doorknob, the feeling didn't abate. In fact, it strengthened to the point that there would be no coming back from it. This was an admission that he would never be able to take back.

Akihiko looked stunned by both the door actually opening, and the mess that Misaki had become. The brunette, however, didn't allow him to say anything or even recover from his shock. He grabbed the author by his loosened tie and dragged him down for a deep, desperate kiss that conveyed more than the younger would ever be able to say.

"Please," Misaki panted, "please don't say anything. Just make love to me like you used to." More tears welled in his green eyes, to his own shame. Akihiko only hesitated for a moment before he pushed the brunette into the room and slammed the door behind him. Akihiko's hands and mouth were ice cold and burning hot at the same time, leaving scorching trails of pleasure.

Somehow, the older man was gentler with Misaki than he had ever been before, worshipping every inch of his body. The soft, firm touches and whispered words broke something in the younger man.

"I love you, Usagi," he sobbed, clutching tightly onto Akihiko's broad shoulders. "I love you so much." The author swallowed the rest of Misaki's words with a deep kiss, cupping his face tenderly.

All too soon he pulled away and pressed his forehead against Misaki's. "I love you, too, Misaki." They both climaxed together, each clutching the other like a lifeline.

Misaki gazed down at the peacefully sleeping man, a strange smile on his face. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the pale cheek. "I love you," he breathed, brushing a stray hair from the man's face. A single tear fell onto the sleeping man's face from above. Misaki wiped it away softly and stepped away from the bed. He glanced over at the note sitting on the illuminated desk. "How cliche," he muttered to himself, but left the note and began to walk quietly through the condo, taking in each detail and engraving it into his heart. This would always be his home, even if it hurt to be there.

There were only a couple hours until dawn, and Misaki's time was running out. He would be caged and shackled and left to rot again, and there was no running away from it. The young man took a deep breath, preparing himself for the pain to come, and then stepped out of the apartment with a whispered 'goodbye'.

So, I hope that was sufficient, despite my long absence. I know it was really short, and I'm super sorry about that, but I wanted to take what little inspiration I had and run with it. So, thank you so fucking much to the beautiful Hametsu for the help on the plot. Thanks for reading!

Favourite, follow, review, and PM me with ideas! Until next time...

~O'Malley