AN: *covers face* Wow, thank you guys so much for the awesome reviews! My face hasn't been that red in a while. And the same to everyone reading. I'm glad you're enjoying the fic so far!
Disclaimer: Junjou Romantica belongs to Nakamura Shungiku, et al. I make no profit from writing fanfiction.
Mahiro got into Misaki's book bag at some point during the night. The toddler had taken to waking up at ungodly hours of the night and slipping out of his room for an impromptu exploration of the house. No matter what Manami and Takahiro did, Mahiro could not be stopped. His escape skills were just as impressive as Usagi-san's – not to mention his penchant for creating disaster.
"We'll pay to replace them," Manami promised frantically the next morning, upon discovering the crayon scribbles throughout all but one of Misaki's textbooks.
Part of Misaki wanted to refuse the offer on the grounds that by the time Usagi-san heard what happened, the man would pay not only for the replacements, but likely buy the newest editions available, but Manami looked so wretched about the whole thing that he couldn't help but agree. "It's really okay," he promised.
"He does that sometimes," she fretted, watching the toddler shriek with delight at something on the television.
"Misaki did things like, too." Takahiro looked distinctly amused. "Dad was never happy with the decorations all over his paperwork."
Karmic retribution be damned, it still didn't change the fact that Misaki was due for literature in just under an hour with no textbook. "Thanks, Nii-chan," he said flatly.
Takahiro's laugh followed him all the way out the door.
Despite the fact that he'd done nothing but rest once he got back to his brother's house the afternoon previous, Misaki was absolutely exhausted. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to turn back toward the house, run inside, and bury himself in bed. How was it that he felt worse after a night's rest than better?
And to top it all off, Usagi-san had spent most of the night texting him nonstop. Misaki finally just turned his phone on silent around ten, as no amount of begging would get the man to stop playing with his phone and just do his damn job. He'd fallen asleep to vague, half-formed thoughts of a television special consisting of nothing but varying clips of Usagi-san using his cell phone and taking smoke breaks. Surely, the man had done something productive since leaving Toudou's apartment?
Misaki pulled his phone out of his pocket as he made his way to the train station, setting it on vibrate and scrolling idly through the seemingly endless number of messages from Usagi-san. They'd cut off somewhere around three in the morning. The last six said nothing but I love you. Just reading them made Misaki's face burn.
No sooner had he put the phone back in his pocket than a sudden vibration jolted his side, catching him off guard and sending him careening violently to the left. "What…?"
Of course, it was Usagi-san. What the hell the man was doing up before eight in the morning, Misaki didn't know, but he was resigned to the fact that Usagi-san seemed to have developed some type of freaky psychic power that let him know exactly what Misaki was doing, and when.
Good morning, the message said. Misaki tried to type back a reply, but he wasn't quick enough. Usagi-san sent another message: Meet me for lunch.
Misaki scoffed and quickly typed back: Can't. Classes. Do your work.
He was on the train and only three minutes away from the station nearest the university before Usagi-san replied. If such a thing could be called a reply: it was a picture of Suzuki-san sitting in the kitchen with an empty plate in front of him.
"The hell?" Misaki muttered. Was that supposed to be symbolic of something? Maybe it was an author thing, and maybe someone just as insane as Usagi-san would understand, but it rated about at the same level as any other psychobabble in Misaki's mind.
Or maybe, he thought, it was an extremely sleep-deprived Usagi-san's way of saying he hadn't eaten yet?
Misaki abruptly shoved his phone into his pocket when he realized he was attempting to analyze the idiot. It was about a thousand years too early for something like that. Totally impossible!
He ignored the next three messages, gritting his teeth every time his phone vibrated. For three days, Usagi-san sent him nothing, and suddenly he was pestering Misaki nonstop? While it occurred to him that this was the sort of behavior he'd expected in the first place, Misaki couldn't help but wonder why now? Some pitiful part of him figured Usagi-san hadn't really thought of Misaki at all, at least not until he'd gotten bored and needed an excuse to escape. Did Usagi-san actually miss him?
Ashamed at the direction of his thoughts, Misaki reminded himself that Usagi-san had of course missed him. The author was a busy man, and Aikawa had probably been a ruthlessly efficient taskmaster in the beginning. Maybe she was the one who was slacking, if the amount of time Usagi-san had access to his phone was any indication. Then again, it wasn't really possible to make an episode of Fame out of a man sitting at his computer for several weeks on end. The other specials had followed the featured celebrities into their personal lives. Had those initial days been just a tactic to ease Usagi-san into acting more like himself, lure him into a false sense of security, and then catch him in a scandalous moment?
"And now I'm coming up with conspiracy theories?" Sometimes, Misaki really wondered what was wrong with his head.
Toudou caught up with him during Misaki's lunch break. The student cafeteria was large, but Misaki noticed him right off the bat: poised in the far right entrance, one hand held dramatically over his eyes as he scouted the crowded tables for a familiar face. The moment he spotted Misaki, Toudou made a beeline toward him.
"So I left my phone at home during class yesterday," Toudou began. He sat down in the empty seat across from Misaki and pulled out another snack bar.
"You need to eat real food," Misaki said, shaking his head ruefully. "Here," he slid his bento across the table. "I'm full anyway."
Toudou smiled brightly. "Thanks! Anyway, like I was saying, I left it at home."
"…is that so?" Misaki didn't quite understand what Toudou's point was, but he figured he should at least look interested. "Did you miss a call or something?"
"No. It's just…" He pulled out his phone and handed it to Misaki over the table. "Here, you look."
"All right." Misaki grabbed it, took one look at the screen – and promptly dropped his forehead, hard, against the table. "Oh my god."
"That's kind of what I said," Toudou supplied helpfully, "only I did think it was pretty funny."
At some point during the day before, Usagi-san had gotten hold of Toudou's phone and changed the background to a picture of Misaki drooling in his sleep. "That idiot," Misaki groaned. How could he?
"And he put his number in there, too," Toudou added. "I know, because he sent me like five million messages this morning. He says you should call him." Then he frowned. "He also told me he'd replace my Kan stationary and suggested I buy a bigger apartment."
The strangest thing, beyond Usagi-san's own rather, er, unique way of intruding into Misaki's life, was the fact that Toudou only seemed bothered by the fact that Usagi-san stole his stationary. He didn't look put out by the weird picture (Misaki was pretty sure he was about to melt, his face felt so hot), didn't seem bothered at all by Usagi-san texting him.
"I'm really sorry," Misaki said miserably. "He does things like this sometimes. I'll definitely scold him!"
"It's okay," Toudou laughed. "Just…" The smile slipped off his face, replaced by something hesitant and curious. "Why does he do it? I mean, I did think it was kind of weird that he followed us to the autograph session in Fukuoka, but then he gave me those plane tickets so I didn't care. I guess it just seems odd, is all."
"I—ah—that is…" What was he supposed to say? Toudou wasn't accusing him of anything, and he didn't look angry. Misaki, in his place, would have definitely been angry. Or maybe just confused.
Very, very confused.
For a split second, the briefest of moments, Misaki wanted to tell Toudou. He wanted to tell him everything. He felt for the first time since he could remember the deepest desire for someone to confide in.
But he couldn't. The words stuck in his throat, held in a firm grip by that old fear: Toudou would reject him, would tell every damn person in the university. From there, it would be only a matter of time before everyone knew, even Nii-chan, and then the papers would get hold of it, and Usagi-san's career would be completely ruined, and everything would be his fault, just like Usagi-chichi said.
"He's like an older brother," Misaki found himself saying, the words falling flat even to his own ears. "He didn't have much of a family himself, so he's—overprotective."
Toudou got the strangest look on his face, but it disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced by a familiar grin. "So I was thinking about the cliffhanger in the last release of The Kan…"
Just like that? He just—dropped it? Misaki had the distinct impression that Toudou didn't buy a single word of it, but he wasn't pressing the matter either. Just moving on.
Misaki shook free of the haze clinging to his mind, weighing him down, and joined in on the cheerful speculation. If Toudou wasn't going to keep asking, then he wasn't going to bother with it.
It was, he figured, the sign of a good friend.
By Thursday, Misaki was more than ready for the weekend. Classes had dragged by at a maddeningly slow pace. Usagi-san had continued harassing him via text and, occasionally, calling on a bemused Toudou's aide in convincing Misaki to actually respond. Toudou had been giving him increasingly questioning looks, and honestly, Misaki had to wonder just how much longer he had before the bomb dropped.
"Misaki-kun, are you sure you don't mind cooking?" Manami stood in the doorway to the kitchen, twisting the hem of her blouse. She looked oddly young like that, the image giving Misaki the false impression of actually being the older brother-in-law.
"It's fine. I'm used to cooking for Usagi-san every night, so I kind of miss it."
"Does it bother you?" she asked.
Misaki didn't look up from the vegetables he was chopping, eyeing them to measure out the perfect width. "I told you, it's fine. I like to cook."
"I meant cooking for Usami-san," she corrected gently. "He treats you well?"
At that, Misaki looked up. "Of course," he said, surprised. "He treats me like royalty. It can get kind of annoying." That was the understatement of the century. If Misaki pointed to any country on the map and said, "I want this," he was pretty sure Usagi-san would run with it. The man would go to any lengths to satisfy Misaki, even when Misaki didn't want or need anything at all.
Manami broke into a wide smile. "You deserve to be treated so well," she said fondly. "I know you took good care of Takahiro before I met him. He'd be lost without you."
"Ah, well, I don't know about that." Misaki didn't know where Manami was pulling this gushing affection from. It made him both terribly nervous and terribly embarrassed. "I'm sure he'd have been fine on his own! He'd have gone to school and made a lot of money, I bet."
"I doubt it. He's not good by himself, you know," Manami whispered the tail end of the comment, like she was sharing some big secret. "I'm sure you know what I mean."
Did he ever. "He gets lost all the time," Misaki laughed. "Does he still?"
"I bought him a phone with GPS on his last birthday! I was going to give it to him at the restaurant we picked, but he got lost on the way and took the wrong train. He's hopeless."
Had he ever spoken so candidly with Manami? Misaki couldn't recall. He hadn't known her much at all before she married his brother, and they hadn't really had much of a chance to talk since. She had such a comforting air about her, though, some quality that evoked maternal warmth. Misaki found himself shaking off the weight of the week with ease the more they spoke.
She helped him with dinner, playing assistant and looking rather amused about it. Takahiro was working late again, so they were in the middle of preparing a plate for him to save for later when Mahiro started shouting, "Unagi!" at the television, over and over, as loudly as he could.
"Unagi?" The word struck a chord in Misaki's memory.
Manami was on her tiptoes, staring out into the living room at the television screen. "Isn't that Usami-san?"
They both nearly collided into one another in their mad dash from the kitchen. Mahiro was jumping up and down excitedly, pointing at the television.
It was, indeed, Usagi-san: a commercial for Fame, actually. The announcer was speaking rapidly about the 'secret life of the esteemed award-winning author, Usami Akihiko' to a backdrop of various images of the man at ceremonies and book signings.
"My, this is quite a big deal, isn't it?" Manami looked impressed.
"And what," the announcer continued, "will be revealed about the secretive author's life? Perhaps… a love interest?"
Now, Misaki considered himself made of stern stuff. Living with Usagi-san generally gave him an edge, made things that would freak the greater portion of the population out seem like every day events to him. But the end of the commercial, what with its talk of love interests and floating hearts, sent a tremor running down his spine.
It probably didn't help that the final frame was an image of his bedroom.
Don't panic, he told himself. It's nothing. It's absolutely nothing. It's just a teaser to get people to watch. No one who knows Usagi-san will believe it!
Next to him, Manami said, "I didn't realize he was seeing anyone! Do you know anything about it, Misaki-kun?"
"Eh, heh, me? No way! What could I possibly know?" He laughed shrilly. "Oh, I think I left the oven on!" He fled the room at top speed, but not before he heard Manami mutter, "But we didn't use the oven…"
It was official. He was totally and completely fucked.
He begged out of dinner, saying he had a lot of class work to attend to, and locked himself in his room for the night. It occurred to him that he was just acting suspicious, but the moment he thought it, some more hysterical part of him started shrieking about everyone knowing everything about him and Usagi-san, and he wasn't the suspicious one here!
"I have to call him." Misaki dug through his bag for his phone, ignoring the messages on the screen and opting to scroll for Usagi-san's number and press the call button. "Come on, come on, pick up!"
It rang and rang. Misaki started cursing toward the end, certain that Usagi-san wouldn't answer, so of course the man picked up right as he started chanting, "Shit, shit, shit—"
"…hello?"
"Ah, Usagi-san!" Misaki cringed. "Er, sorry about that."
"It's fine." He heard Usagi-san inhale deeply. The man must be on a smoke break, Misaki figured.
"Look, we need to talk. Did you see the—"
"We do!" Usagi-san coughed, and in the background, Misaki could hear the sound of a door opening and closing. "Aikawa gave me permission to escape tomorrow."
"That's not what I— wait, she actually said that?"
"Yes." Misaki could practically hear the man's smug grin.
"But when the hell have you been working?" he demanded. "All you've been doing is sending me messages! NOT TO MENTION TOUDOU."
Usagi-san sniffed delicately. "I needed a secondary method of contact."
"You could call Nii-chan's house," Misaki said, exasperated. "Which, in case you've forgotten, is where I'm staying."
He almost wanted to take it back the second he said it. It was too easy to imagine Usagi-san calling the house at all hours of the night and keeping them awake. He doubted his brother or Manami would appreciate it.
"I wouldn't want to trouble anyone."
"Then stop sending Toudou messages during class. You know, he got kicked out of one of his lectures because his phone went off!"
"In any case," Usagi-san continued airily, "I'll be picking you up from class tomorrow. Tell Takahiro you'll be with a friend for the night."
For the night? Misaki's stomach flopped, and a fierce red burned its trail down his neck. "We're going to a hotel?" he asked. He pretended his voice didn't crack in the middle of hotel.
"Something like that," Usagi-san purred.
Misaki coughed loudly. "ANYWAY. That's not what I was going to talk to you about! Did you see it?"
There was a pause, an inhale. Usagi-san was lighting another cigarette. Misaki had to stomp down the instinctual urge to scold him for smoking so much. "See what?"
"The commercial! Did you see it?"
"Ah, that's right, that was airing today, wasn't it?" Usagi-san made a dismissive sound. "I'll watch it online later."
"That's not the point." Misaki wanted to slam his head against the wall. "It talked about your love life!"
Usagi-san scoffed. "Love life?"
"Yes. And that was while the commercial showed a picture of my bedroom!" He was practically wailing by that point.
"That's ridiculous," Usagi-san said, and Misaki felt a rush of gratitude for the author. That was right, Usagi-san would straighten everything—"You don't even have a bedroom! We share one," he finished, a note of pride in his voice.
Had he been standing within striking range, Misaki would have definitely strangled him. "THAT IS ALSO NOT THE POINT," he shrieked into the phone. Somewhere else in the house, Mahiro called his name in excited waves. "Usagi-san, do you not get it? What are they planning to say about me?"
Usagi-san sighed. "I really don't think you need to worry about it. It's just a hook, a way to bring in viewers."
Well, that did sound possible. The thought had crossed Misaki's mind, too, but it wasn't enough to quell his rising anxiety.
"Please make sure," Misaki said, "please, please, please?"
Usagi-san sighed again, weary. "Fine," he agreed. "I'll ask. But I'm curious: would it really be so bad? People knowing?"
Misaki hesitated. "I—Isaka-san said—" He trailed off. "It's not like that, Usagi-san."
Another long pause followed, and Misaki felt his heart dropping lower with every passing second. At last, Usagi-san spoke, but not the words Misaki wanted to hear: "I have to go." He did sound put out about it, though. "Don't forget! I'll pick you up after classes." Somewhere in the background, Misaki could make out the sound of Aikawa's voice.
"I won't. Night, Usagi-san."
"I love you. Sleep well." Then, the line cut.
Misaki dropped his phone on his pillow and flopped lifelessly down onto the bed. Was that what Usagi-san thought? That Misaki was ashamed of him—of them? He wasn't! Absolutely not!
But even as he thought it, Misaki recalled his earlier conversation with Toudou, the look on his friend's face when he asked, "Why?" He thought of his readiness to leave Usagi-san's side just because Iwate and Isaka suggested it. He thought of the way he ignored the man's calls, refused to associate with him around people he knew, and always, always blamed Usagi-san for causing 'misunderstandings' with his clingy behavior. Perhaps, looking at it that way, Misaki could understand why Usagi-san would get the wrong impression.
Feeling more than a little disgusted with himself, Misaki blinked fiercely against the sudden watery burn at the corners of his eyes. Something needed to be done, he knew that much.
He just couldn't figure out what.