Chapter 13: Emotional

Hiroki woke up the next morning to Miyagi hanging over him, looking concerned. He scowled and sat up, pushing Miyagi out of his face. "Is the concept of personal space entirely foreign to you?" he asked.

Miyagi didn't protest that part, at least. "Just wondering if you were still alive, Kamijou." He sat down at his desk and started his computer. "Did you not go home last night?"

When Hiroki looked at the round, analog clock on the wall, he saw that it was nearly ten o'clock. He had a class at eleven. This fact made him scowl, and instead of answering Miyagi, he simply grabbed his overnight bag and headed for the nearest bathroom to change. He probably needed a shower, but the only public showers on campus were at the recreation center, and Hiroki didn't have time to go all the way there.

The bathroom closest to his office was tiny, with a single sink, one urinal, and one stall. There weren't any students there, and Hiroki ended up locking himself in the stall and started changing out of his street clothes.

Hiroki sighed and leaned against the stall door, his dress shirt still open. He felt like shit, and not just because he had slept on that raggedy old couch all night. Despite that he had slept for twelve hours (he did wake up at one point and got some work done) he was exhausted. If not physically, then emotionally. He couldn't remember the last time he wanted to just sit down and let the world flow around him, sucking out his insecurities.

He had his phone with him, and in a moment of weakness, he considered calling Nowaki. Then he scoffed and folded his arms over his partially exposed chest. He didn't need Nowaki, and anyway, he'd be at work and wouldn't be able to answer even if Hiroki did call.

"Kamijou?"

Hiroki hadn't heard anyone enter the bathroom, but it seemed Miyagi was now right outside the stall.

"What?" Hiroki started buttoning up his shirt, ignoring the jiggling of the lock as Miyagi tried to open the door. "I'm changing, Professor. I have no desire for you to see me half-naked."

"Aw, Kamijou, I'm sure I'd love to see your body," Miyagi said in a singsong voice. Hiroki scowled and opened the door with his shirt only halfway buttoned. Miyagi took a step back, looking surprised. "Have you been crying?"
Hiroki's eyes went wide, but when he pushed past Miyagi and looked in the mirror over the sink, he saw it was true. His eyes were somewhat red and shiny with unfallen tears, and he could just see where some had fallen down his cheeks. His nose was starting to run as well, and he didn't protest when Miyagi gave him a handkerchief. "I'm pathetic."

"Kamijou…" Miyagi sighed. He ended up wrapping an arm around his shoulders, and Hiroki closed his eyes. The tobacco smell from Miyagi's chain smoking habit shouldn't have been comforting, but it was. Akihiko had been smoking for years and it was a smell Hiroki always associated with his old friend. Hiroki ended up burying his nose in Miyagi's shirt, and the older man looked slightly uncomfortable. "Uh, if you're having trouble I'm willing to listen Kamijou but this is a bit much…"

It was then that Hiroki realized what he was doing, and he scowled and pushed Miyagi away. "Whatever. I'll wash this and give it back to you later." He waved the handkerchief in Miyagi's face before sticking it in his pocket. When Miyagi didn't leave, Hiroki waved towards the door. "Could you give me a minute? I still need to clean up for my class in less than an hour."

Miyagi sighed again but obliged, looking like he wanted to say more. Hiroki was very obviously not up for discussion as far as this went, though, so he let the door swing shut behind him.

Hiroki was just glad it was Friday. It meant that he could stay at home if he wanted to even if he had work to do, because he didn't have any classes or special sessions on the weekends. He got out of his last class at five o'clock, and he'd probably just pick up something to eat and head home. Maybe even stock up for the entire weekend so he wouldn't have to go out.

What about Nowaki, though? Almost all of his things were at the apartment so there wouldn't be much use going back to his old one, even though the contract didn't technically run out for a little over a week. On the other hand, Hiroki wasn't sure if he wanted to see him after he had stormed out of Pandasan and ended up abandoning him and Eiji for the night.

No matter how kind Nowaki was, and how likely it was that he'd forgive Hiroki for his tantrum, he just didn't feel like he could deal with him right then. Now that his feelings had cooled off, what he mostly felt was shame.

Hiroki huffed and went back to the mirror so he could comb through his hair and at least make it look presentable. He could worry about Nowaki later; he still had classes and work to do that day, and worrying about where he stood with the man wasn't going to help anything. If it was meant to work out, it would.

xxx

Hiroki didn't get a call from Nowaki all day, and when he got out of the university a little past five, the man wasn't waiting for him like he had started doing when Hiroki worked later than him. Hiroki didn't actually remember Nowaki's schedule for the flower shop, though, so for all he knew, he could've had a shift right after he was done at the kindergarten and wasn't even home himself yet.

He went about his day as if it weren't a big deal, but as he bought food to last them for at least the weekend, he couldn't help but feel a bit of apprehension. The supermarket was more crowded than usual, and it all seemed to be college-aged students buying alcohol and other such things so they could have parties. If any of them were from M and recognized Hiroki, Hiroki himself didn't pay attention as he went through the gestures of picking out food mechanically.

It was only, of course, when he got to the apartment building and to his apartment to find the door still locked that he realized he had been hoping Nowaki would be there. Nowaki kept a few pairs of shoes in the genkan, one set of sneakers for casual wear, and two pairs of dress shoes that he alternated between for the kindergarten and the flower shop. His coat was gone as well, and Hiroki found himself sitting down where the floor rose up out of the genkan and just staring at the cloth shopping bag he'd bought rather than use more plastic ones.

Logically, Hiroki thought, Nowaki couldn't be gone for good. There were still traces of him around the apartment, like the children's books Nowaki had been going through the other day. Those were Hiroki's; he could never bring himself to get rid of anything, and Nowaki had thought it was 'cute' that he still had books dating back to when he was the age of the children Nowaki taught. They were stacked neatly on the table alongside the academic journals he had also been reading. There were only one or two, and Hiroki had briefly noticed the previous day that they were the ones he'd managed to get articles published in during his grad career.

And of course when he finally got off the floor and looked in Nowaki's room, the bed was still there and his dresser was still full of clothes and toiletries.

And yet, as he kept going around the apartment, going through his evening rituals of getting out of his work clothes and getting his dinner ready, he couldn't help but feel like he'd been punched in the gut. That logical part of him spoke up again to point out that it was his fault for pushing Nowaki away, but Hiroki pushed it away, reasoning that how was he supposed to know Nowaki would just up and leave over something like that? He knew they weren't involved as Eiji and that waitress seemed to think, so Hiroki pointing it out shouldn't have caused him to just completely drop out of his life.

In the end, Hiroki ended up ordering delivery and falling over onto his couch. He even turned the TV on, simply because it was just too damned quiet without Nowaki there. Nowaki actually wasn't that chatty, so he had no idea why it made a difference, but it did.

xxx

By the time Sunday rolled around, Hiroki was still alone in his apartment. Nowaki hadn't come back once, but rather than causing Hiroki to get angry like one might think it would, Hiroki just descended more and more into emotional drainage. He actually went back to the project he'd started of comparing Akihiko's original Japanese-language novels to their English translation, and without Nowaki around to clean up or at least put some semblance of order to all the things Hiroki left in the living room, the entire place started looking more and more like his and Miyagi's office.

When he woke up Sunday morning, though, he found that he just didn't have the energy to concentrate on the project, and he ended up putting a bookmark in the one he'd been going through and just tossing it back on the coffee table. He'd had a few calls over the weekend; Miyagi had called Saturday morning sounding concerned since Hiroki usually texted or emailed him over the weekend to remind him of exactly what he was supposed to be working on. He did this simply so he wouldn't have any accountability for when Miyagi inevitably slacked on his work and had to rush to get it done Monday morning.

Akihiko had called too, saying he had a new novel done and that he wanted Hiroki to come over to his apartment and read over it for him before he handed the first draft into Aikawa. That particular call, however, he'd let go straight to voicemail as soon as he saw who it was, and he hadn't returned the call since. He was honestly surprised that Akihiko hadn't called again or attempted to track him down. He didn't like it when people didn't listen to him.

Hiroki spent the next few minutes just wandering around his apartment, trying to figure out what to do. Even though he had bought groceries, he hadn't actually cooked anything for himself once since he got home Friday evening. He had about the same amount of motivation to make his breakfast then, and with a sigh, he dressed and trudged out of his apartment for the first time since discovering Nowaki hadn't come back.

The crisp, spring air made him nervous, and he squinted against the light of the sun since he'd had the shades closed in his apartment. No one seemed to notice the pale man acting like he hadn't seen the sun in years, though, and so instead of having to get mad at anyone, he simply started walking. He didn't really have anywhere in mind, but though he knew Pandasan served breakfast as well, he didn't want to go there. Knowing his luck, the waitress who'd taken their orders Thursday night would be working, and then she'd remember him and probably ask where he had gone then.

Hiroki wasn't really prepared to answer that question.

Eventually he wandered into a more commercial part of Bunkyo. He wasn't paying attention, so when someone called out, "Kamijou-san!" he was surprised enough to stop and look.

It was Eiji. He was alone, at least, and he looked rather apprehensive to approach him. Hiroki sniffed and continued walking, and eventually, Eiji seemed to decide that he wanted to catch up to him.

"Why isn't Wacchan with you?" Eiji asked, falling into step with him.

Hiroki sniffed again. "He's still gone."

"Still?" Eiji sounded confused. "He left?"

Hiroki narrowed his eyes at Eiji, and for the first time since Thursday afternoon, he felt annoyance rather than the emotional drainage he'd been suffering. "He hasn't been home since Friday. Didn't he tell you anything?"

"Um, no," Eiji said, ducking his head and, to his credit, looking ashamed that he didn't know about such a thing. "He brought me to school in the morning and never said anything else…"

Hiroki's eye twitched, and he could feel the familiar bubbling of rage he usually felt. So Nowaki just up and disappeared, not even telling Eiji about it? Where the hell did he get off anyway, doing such a thing and leaving Hiroki in that state?

Eiji looked terrified so he said, "It was good seeing you again Kamijou-san, but I have to go now!" and he was down the sidewalk like one of Hiroki's well-trained students.

With Eiji gone, Hiroki honestly wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with the sudden burst of emotion he was experiencing. He still had no idea where Nowaki was or how to contact him. He briefly considered going to the flower shop and seeing if he was working, but he ruled that idea out. As if he would cause such a scene in public twice.

In the end, Hiroki didn't know what to do. He'd never been in a position like this. If he had been in his apartment, he might have kicked something, knocked something over, yelled and then cried and then realized he was unable to tell the difference between the two.

As it was, however, he just continued down the sidewalk, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket and head ducked as he tried to sink into anonymity in the crowd.