This gets a little hairy near the end, tw rape. Thanks for staying on this ride with me, and I promise to try to stick to the update schedule from now on!
Spoiler alert: Hiro-chan is Takahiro. *gasps*
"It's been forever since I felt this way. And I never want to feel this way again."
Akihiko rested against the arm of the couch, with two cushions supporting his head and neck and one under his back. He held his cellphone loosely between two fingers, swinging it back and forth. He crunched through a mint and immediately reached for another, swirling the circular candy around in his mouth. Sucking it between his teeth, Akihiko dialed the number quickly and held the phone in a tight, tense grip.
"Hello?" Came the bright, inquisitive voice.
"Oy, Kusama-san, can you give Hiroki his phone?" Akihiko responded gruffly, and immediately regretted being rude to the other man.
"Sure." Nowaki replied, seemingly unbothered by the tone and chipper as ever. "Here he is! Don't talk long, he's busy!" Akihiko rolled his eyes and gripped onto Suzuki tightly.
"Hello?" Hiroki answered wearily. The author drew in a deep breath.
"What did you do to Misaki?" He asked, wincing at how rude and abrupt he sounded.
"Um, what?" Hiroki responded, confused. Akihiko let out a huff and continued.
"He was crying and saying your name. Your nickname. He kept sobbing and going, 'Hiro-san'. What the fuck is that all about?"
"I don't fucking know! I've only talked to him twice, and once was with you! I don't even see him in school!"
"What was the other time?" Akihiko nearly shouted into the phone, sitting up now.
"He asked why you weren't answering the phone. It was after he sexted you and you beat off to it for 20 minutes and didn't respond, remember? Poor kid…" Hiroki made a clicking sound with his tongue and sighed. "I haven't talked to him since, except maybe saying hi or something."
"Then why, exactly, is he crying in his FUCKING ROOM?" Akihiko boomed, his voice rising steadily.
"I don't know! I literally have no fucking idea why your boyfriend is crying in his room and why he would be crying about me, of all things." Hiroki exclaimed, exasperated. Akihiko grunted, frustrated.
"What the fuck did you do?" He seethed.
"Why don't you go ask him?" Hiroki said, eerily calm. Akihiko inhaled, and then slammed the phone onto the couch. He stormed up the stairs and threw open the door, ready to scream to the rafter—
And was greeted with the sight of Misaki curled up in his bed, his hands balled up near his face and his blankets wrapped around him. His long lashes casted a shadow on his cheeks, and his face was still pink. The tracks of his tears were dark and obvious on his clear complexion. Akihiko ran a gentle hand through his hair and rubbed his thumb on Misaki's cheek. He then turned and slowly closed the door and tiptoed down the stairs.
"I need to know if you know anything."
"Oh, you're still there, huh?"
"You're being an asshole, just tell me what you did to him!" Akihiko exclaimed, raising his voice just the slightest bit.
"It wasn't me!" Hiroki replied, sounding panicked.
"Who was it, then?" Akihiko felt his heart racing faster as he began to hyperventilate. "Who am I supposed to believe? I don't know who DID THIS TO HIM!" He roared into the phone.
The other line was silent, and Akihiko swallowed and forced himself to calm down. Suddenly Nowaki's voice came over the speaker, and sounding calm but detached, he said, "Please don't contact us again, Usami-san." And the line went dead.
Akihiko cursed as he hung up, and tightened his grip. He grunted and then threw his phone into the wall, watching it shatter. He stared at it for a moment, and then began to sweep up the pieces. Once that was done, he went about making rice and curry for his sick little boyfriend. He poured the rice into the pot, stirred his curry accordingly, and prepared the small meal for Misaki. After checking that everything was cooked correctly, he climbed the stairs and placed the plate softly onto Misaki's bedside dresser, watching his lover sleep soundly.
He'd almost left the room when he saw a book sitting open in front of the young man. It was small and leather bound, with brown coloring on the outside. Akihiko gently lifted it from Misaki's bed and closed it, looking for the title. There wasn't one, and after quickly flipping through the pages, he recognized it as a journal. A small knot formed in his stomach. Misaki was upset, so he'd written in a journal. If he read it, he could determine what had made his lover so sad and correct it, and help him. Even if it was something Hiroki had done. Akihiko stared down at the book, gripping it so tightly that he thought he might bend the sides.
However, if he read from this book and learned all of Misaki's secrets, it would be as if he stole knowledge from the man. It would be rude and unnecessary, and basically spying. He set the journal down gingerly on the dresser as well, not wishing to invade Misaki's privacy. After one last glance back at the man, he went downstairs for his own nap.
Dreaming in the afternoon will almost always bring nightmares, and Akihiko wasn't exempt from this fate. He wrestled with the couch cushion, and saw images of Misaki screaming, crying and begging through a black void, but he was powerless to stop it. He woke up not long after he had laid down, and checked the clock. I should check on Misaki, he thought, and headed for the boy's bedroom.
Misaki was sitting up on the bed with his hands crossed over his lap pleasantly. He blinked at him a few times and smiled. "Hi." He said softly. Akihiko gasped audibly and moved wuickly to Misaki's side. He brushed some loose strands of hair from his face and touched the man's lips gently. Misaki moaned softly and let his eyes flutter closed. "Usagi-san, don't do that." He whispered, sitting perfectly still. "That's so embarrassing." Akihiko felt as though he might float up into the ceiling and out into the universe from Misaki's words, his smile, and his closeness. Misaki was like a dream that he had dreamt for his entire life, and he had no intent of letting this beauty go.
"Are you okay?" Akihiko asked, caressing Misaki's pale cheek. Misaki opened his eyes, but didn't look at him. Instead, he pressed harder into Akihiko's hand.
"No." He murmured. He sniffled and the older man scooted closer so that he could rub Misaki's back. "I'm not okay." Misaki looked up at Akihiko and gave him a watery smile. "Can we not talk about it? Don't you want to like, fuck me or something?" He asked, laughing awkwardly. "I mean, isn't that what you do?" Akihiko's throat tightened and he moved his hands to Misaki's arms.
"We need to talk. I'll go downstairs, and you can come down when you're ready. Okay?" Misaki nodded at him, and intertwined his fingers against the blankets. Akihiko nodded and rose from the bed, leaving Misaki to himself.
Misaki came downstairs a few minutes later, and had changed from his button down sweater into a thick t-shirt. He pulled his hair up into a small bun as he thumped down the stairs and wrapped his spindly arms around Akihiko's waist. Akihiko hugged him in turn, and they stood like that for a few moments, until the author pulled his lover over to the couch and sat down next to him.
Fiddling with the hem on his shirt, Misaki watched Akihiko apprehensively. "What do you want to talk about?" He asked timidly.
"Why were you crying earlier? Let's start with that." Akihiko replied, leaning back into the couch with one arm slung over the side.
Misaki huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, his mouth sticking out in the slightest pout. "I was sad." He replied genially. Akihiko scoffed and Misaki's lips twisted.
"That much is obvious. Who is Hiro-chan?" He ventured further, crossing his own arms in response. Misaki's eyes widened and he looked up at Akihiko in alarm.
"Who said that?" He asked, swallowing and shifting in his seat.
"You did. You kept crying about him and rocking on the bed. You were shaking, Misaki. And I- I didn't know what to do." Akihiko took in a breath and clenched his hand into a fist. Misaki was sitting nearer to the arm of the couch, and Akihiko watched him pull his legs to his chest and continue to watch him, quiet. He sighed and continued, still tense. "I love you, but I want you to be happy, I want you to feel loved by me, I want- I want you to feel better." Misaki blinked, and Akihiko saw him wipe at his eyes quickly. He reached across the couch, and took one of Misaki's hands in his own. Misaki pulled back instinctively, shaking his head violently.
"I don't- I don't deserve you. I'm definitely being selfish by staying so long." His eyes darted from the door to the stairs to his hand, wrapped in Akihiko's tight grip. "I need to go. I- You- We shouldn't be here." Misaki pulled his hand out of Akihiko's and darted toward the stairs. Akihiko sat in shock for a moment before immediately lunging after him.
"Why can't you just talk to me?" He asked, trying to remain calm as he followed Misaki up to his room. Misaki looked back at him fearfully and ran into his room. "Misaki!" He shouted, and stormed up the stairs after him. Confusion and fear ran through Akihiko's mind. What did I do? He thought as he flung open the door to his boyfriend's extra room. Misaki was frantically throwing clothes into his backpack and grabbing his textbooks. Tears were streaming down his face freely now, and he didn't wipe them away or slow down. I can't let him leave. Akihiko's sight was hazy, a blur now, as Misaki moved from place to place, looking similar to a ping pong ball machine.
Misaki finally moved toward the door, a textbook in his hand and his stuffed backpack on his back. Akihiko blocked it instinctively, standing impressively tall over his lover. "Move, Usagi." Came Misaki's small voice. He sounded calm, and the only way to see his fear was in the tear tracks on his cheeks. "Please. I have to go."
"Where?" Akihiko asked. "Where are you going and why?" Misaki looked away, his hands in fists by his side. Akihiko's voice rose higher in volume. "Why the hell won't you talk to me?" Misaki's eyes welled up again and he angrily wiped at them, and Akihiko felt like the world's worst villain, and somehow it made him angrier. Misaki made a charge at the door and Akihiko grabbed him by the arms, knocking the textbook from his hands. The smaller man's expression changed from anger to surprise as they tumbled to the ground, Misaki landing dully on his overstuffed bag.
"Get off of me!" Misaki started, but Akihiko pinned down his hands and stared at him. Misaki gasped and squirmed underneath him. He grinned slowly.
"We don't have to talk, Misa-kun." Akihiko whispered into Misaki's ear, before licking the shell. Misaki yelped and bucked against him. The author sighed and kissed Misaki's neck before sucking and kissing his collarbone as well. Misaki whimpered and arched against him.
"Please don't do this." He whispered, his words thick against Akihiko's chest.
This is all I know to do, Akihiko thought numbly in return, but instead said, "Oh, don't you like this?" He reached down with one hand to cup Misaki's crotch and continued to suck and nip on his neck. Misaki suddenly went still, limp beneath him. Akihiko stopped, feeling awkward all of a sudden and leaned back to look at him.
Misaki was staring at the ceiling, tears leaking from his eyes like an old faucet and making pools on the ground beside him. He opened his mouth slowly, almost deliberately, and let out a shuddering breath. He spoke softly and said, "You're going to do what you want to do anyway, aren't you?" Akihiko furrowed his brow and stared at him, confused. Misaki was reacting. Misaki wasn't pushing him away. What now?
"I don't… I don't know what you want." He admitted, releasing Misaki's hands and sitting up on his heels slowly. Misaki let out a sigh and closed his eyes. He brought his hands to his chest and clasped them together against his chest. Akihiko waited, tight as a coil and just as tense.
"You're just like him." Misaki said softly, sitting up as well. He opened his eyes slowly, and rolled them around, looking at his room. Finally, they fixed themselves on Akihiko. "You're just like my rapist." Misaki said. He stood and backed toward the door. Akihiko stared at him.
"No. No, I'm- I'm nothing like your brother, Misaki!" He bellowed, still on his knees on the ground.
Misaki's face was impassive and blank as he shrugged his shoulders and grabbed his textbook from the ground. "You are, Usami. I mean, you should know. You were in love with him."
It wasn't until hours later, almost dinnertime, when Akihiko woke up to a dark, empty house that he realized what Misaki had said. What Misaki had meant. It was then that the sudden realization dawned upon him, and utter shame washed over him like the tide. Usami Akihiko, at that time, grabbed Misaki's blanket and, while sobbing from the pure shame and disgust that he felt, slept by himself for the first time in months.