Chapter Eighteen

"I am so hungry," Hiroki moaned. "Can I eat now?"

"No, Hiro-san," Nowaki replied patiently.

Hiroki widened his eyes pleadingly and groaned. Nowaki was always so nurturing— and let's face it, a complete wimp when it came to Hiroki's desires— maybe if he played helpless, Nowaki would give in.

"No, Hiro-san," came the same patient answer. This time, Nowaki had turned away, obviously pretending to fiddle with some trinket in his pocket.

Damn. Why wasn't Nowaki looking at him? If only the tall man would look him in the eyes, Hiroki was sure that he would get his way.

"But Nowaki..." he whined pathetically.

His head was still turned away, a fact that annoyed Hiroki endlessly. He had just degraded himself to whining (and Kamijous don't whine unless absolutely necessary), and now stupid Nowaki wasn't even looking?

"Please don't do this, Hiro-san. You know that I want to... but I just can't."

"Yes, you can." Hiroki waited a moment before continuing, "If you love me, then you will let me eat something."

Nowaki faced him, a frown darkening his normally placid face. This frown was different than usual. It wasn't the normal playful pout he used when pretending to be hurt by Hiroki's antics; this was a real frown, complete with downturned lips and angry eyes.

"Don't say that. You know that I love you."

Hiroki didn't know how to respond to this side of Nowaki.

"I... uh..."

"Hiro-san, I am just doing what I was told to do. Please try not to give me a hard time."

Hiroki scowled and leaned back on the couch, completely giving up the pathetic and helpless facade. He supposed Nowaki did have a point, albeit a small one. But he just didn't give a crap about this so-called 'point.' He was just so hungry.

Almost a week had passed since the first time Hiroki had thrown up. Since then, he has attempted eating, but a half hour after any food enters his stomach, it comes back up.

It was absolutely disgusting in Hiroki's opinion. Having nasty pink gut soup ejected out through his mouth every day for a week was most definitely NOT on his bucket list.

Nowaki had been so caring over the week. He had done all of the household chores and both metaphorically and literally fluffed Hiroki's pillows every hour. But now, he was ignoring the only thing Hiroki really wanted: food. The sick man didn't even care that he would throw up! He just wanted something to eat.

Nowaki insisted that Hiroki was fine, that he didn't need food, that the nutritional supplements were enough to keep him healthy for a week. But Hiroki knew differently. Maybe the supplements were keeping him healthy, but that didn't change the fact that he was hungry. Very hungry.

"Please, Hiro-san, just try not to think about it." Nowaki's demeanor was back to normal, all cuddly and cheerful. "The doctor said that you can eat again at dinner."

Hiroki flopped back on the couch and moaned, "But that's like six whole hours from now!"

Nowaki smirked and walked closer to him. "Would you like me to distract you until then?" he whispered in Hiroki's ear.

The smaller man shivered, food no longer on his mind.

"Well that depends," Hiroki teased, "How exactly would you be distracting me?"

"I think you know how."

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

Later that evening after dinner plates had been cleared off the table and dishes washed, the two men sat down on the couch. Hiroki stretched back and sighed contently.

"I can't believe I didn't get sick." He closed his eyes and smacked his lips. "That was so good, Nowaki! It's been so long since I've been able to enjoy your cooking."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Nowaki replied as he took Hiroki's hand and stroked it. "I hope that you're done now throwing up after eating."

"Probably. The doctor said it would take about a week for my intestines to become good and happy with digestion. Either way, I don't think I can handle any more barfing."

Nowaki pulled Hiroki in close and wrapped him in his arms. "Well, hopefully you're done with it now." When Hiroki leaned his head on Nowaki's chest and relaxed into him, Nowaki continued, "Now that you're better, do you think you'll be okay here by yourself when I'm at work?"

"Stupid Nowaki, you didn't have to stay here the past week with me."

"But I wanted to be with you while you were sick."

"Still, work is important."

Nowaki nuzzled the top of Hiroki's head. "I know it's important, but if you weren't feeling good I couldn't just leave you here alone." He began to sprinkle kissed over his lover's hair. It was soft and felt good against Nowaki's lips.

"I would've been fine," Hiroki protested, attempting to push Nowaki away.

"Fine isn't good enough for my Hiro-san." Nowaki held on to Hiroki's waist tightly. "But I really must go back to work tomorrow. I need to make money; babies are expensive. Besides, they depend on me at work."

Hiroki wiggled his way out of Nowaki's arms and looked up at him. "Don't we make enough money now to take care of him?"

"Him? What makes you think it's going to be a him?"

"Nothing," Hiroki replied absently. "Maybe it will be a her. I don't know, but I don't want to call him an 'it.' Anyway, answer the question."

Nowaki sighed and stared at the ceiling. "I don't want to just be able to care for the baby. I want to be able to give him everything he wants." A joyful smile graced his face as he continued, "I want him to have dolls, music lessons, toy trains—"

"DON'T TALK ABOUT TOY TRAINS!" the professor burst out.

Then, seeing Nowaki's confused and slightly afraid face, Hiroki calmed down. A shiver raced down his spine. "Toy trains just… remind me of someone."

Nowaki stared at him before shaking his head. "Anyway, I never got anything special when I was younger. I want my child to have everything that I never got. You know, silly things like chocolate cake, basketballs, and nice clothes. College too. I don't want him to have to work as much as I did in order to make it through school."

"Nowaki," Hiroki began, his face softening, "we'll have enough money. Don't worry. You make a lot as a doctor, and I make money too. It'll be fine."

"But what if it's not fine? You never know what will happen."

"Ppft," Hiroki sighed, leaning back on the couch, "We both have steady jobs; nothing will happen. Don't be such a worry wart."

I feel like this was really confusing… Was it?

So I haven't updated in a really long time, and I'm sorry. I just have no motivation to write. I feel like people don't like my story because I only get reviews from like the same three people over and over again, and as much as I love those three people's reviews, I need some more inspiration.

I feel like my story isn't good enough, because I'm sure that there are 50 other stories just like this one online somewhere (though I have only read half as many as I should have), and I'm afraid that this one is boring, cliché, and badly written.

Please give me some motivation to write, as it would help me out a lot.

And I think I am going to get rid of all of the sex scenes that I wrote so far because of the fiasco that fanfiction is going through right now. FF said that they were only going to get rid of "explicit" stories, but I'm not sure if mine are explicit or not… I mean, if you're writing sex, how can if NOT be explicit?