The Uke Flu

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Missed II

Nowaki awoke. The terrible headache he'd had when he'd laid down had dissipated, but his eyes felt sand-papery from crying and he still felt just a touch dizzy. He blinked and then closed his eyes again as he went through the rest of his internal assessments.

This was a new habit of late and though Nowaki felt compelled to do it, it still seemed strange: he couldn't remember a time in his life when he'd ever been as aware of his body as he was these days.

"Let's see…stomach pain… no, nausea… not at the moment…, fatigue… not so bad now..., erection… yes."

Damn. It seemed as though during the last few days, he couldn't close his eyes for more than five minutes without waking up with wood. Honestly, it hadn't even been this bad when he was a teenager. Well, Suzuki-sensei had said he would probably feel more aroused over the next few months.

Nowaki sighed. Now he could add his current stiffness to the list of reasons he was wishing that he and Hiro-san hadn't fought. When the morning had started and the day still seemed to be filled with more promise than problem, he had been rather hoping for some sort of afternoon tryst, since Hiro-san had the whole day off. Even though Nowaki knew he should be sleeping, fucking in the afternoon was always such a wonder. He loved seeing Hiro-san's body in the light.

Too bad the day had turned into such a disaster. Recalling what he'd heard Hiroki say on the other side of the door before his partner had left their apartment made Nowaki's throat start to feel tight again. By the gods I am sick of crying.

What am I supposed to do if that's really how Hiro-san feels? Nowaki draped one of his muscular arms over his closed eyes. He was really glad that they had an appointment with Kobayashi. Even though he knew it would make Hiro-san angry, to bring what Hiroki had said up in front of the doctor, maybe they could get some resolution.

Otherwise…

Otherwise, what? Nowaki was bothered to admit at this point he didn't know. Everything he had felt so firm about seemed suddenly undermined.

The young doctor opened his eyes for good at last, ready to leave the world of dreams, and found himself surprised by the quality of light in the room: it seemed really dim. He wondered if maybe there was a storm coming in. He rolled himself over gently onto his side so that he did not jar his ever-ready member and looked at the clock on his nightstand.

As soon as he saw the time, the bottom suddenly dropped out of Nowaki's stomach.

This is impossible!

They had multiple timepieces in their bedroom whose alarms had been set, staggered by five minute intervals, for those mornings when the he wasn't there to rouse Hiro-san. Nowaki turned and looked over at the clock on Hiroki's side of the bed and his fear was confirmed.

Yes, apparently it is possible. He had slept clear through their afternoon appointment and now he had just enough time to get ready and get to the hospital for his shift.

Nothing like this had ever happened to him before; his internal alarm clock had never previously failed him. Usually all he had to do was think of the time that he wanted to get up and somehow his brain, without fail (prior to today anyway), would awaken him about ten minutes before the appointed time.

If Hiro-san was unhappy before, how is he going to feel now that I've stood him up? Especially when Nowaki knew how much Hiroki hated going.

Nowaki felt a black ribbon of anxiety unfurl in his gut. He pushed himself up off the bed and walked over to where his phone lay on the floor. There was a small dent in the wall above it, where it had hit when he had thrown it earlier. Nowaki picked up his phone and flipped it open. He pushed the power button and nothing happened. He pushed it again, nothing still.

I bet I broke it when I threw it. Nowaki cursed himself. Hiro-san's right, I am an idiot!

They had gotten rid of their land-line when they'd moved into their new apartment, so there was no immediate way to call out. Nowaki supposed he could go to one of their neighbors and ask to use their phone, but looking at the time again he realized that Hiro-san was probably on his way home now.

If he's coming home.

Even if he could reach him and Hiro-san was willing to answer the call, Nowaki knew his partner well enough to be sure that Hiroki would not want to talk to him in transit. Nowaki knew too that he certainly did not want to have their next conversation on the phone in front of a curious neighbor. He would have to wait and try and call Hiro-san from the hospital.

Nowaki dropped his phone in disgust and moved into the bathroom.

He turned on the shower and stepped in before the water even had a chance to heat up, hoping the cold would diminish his present discomfort. He knew that if he needed to, he could take matters "into his own hands," so to speak. But he wasn't sure how that would work at the moment.

On those occasions when Nowaki did indulge in "self-gratification," while he knew that there were people who would think he was crazy, with all the wide world's possibilities, the images that he contemplated during this act were always of Hiro-san.

And it didn't have to be an overtly sexual image either, though those were great. It could be just remembering the highlighted curve of the man's jaw when he tilted his head considering a question, the look of his bare feet as he sat cross legged in one of their dining room chairs, a glimpse of Hiro-san's abdomen in morning when he stretched and his nightshirt rode up in response.

If fact, Nowaki couldn't think of the last time he'd imagined anyone or anything else when he was seeking release. And unfortunately given his situation, presently, somehow, the idea of using Hiro-san's image, when Nowaki knew that his partner was mad at him, just seemed wrong: like a violation of sorts.

Nowaki rested his forehead against the shower wall. The frigid stream actually felt good against his heated flesh. He allowed the water to flow over him, tracing in freezing rivulets the contours of his sculpted back.

After a few minutes more, Nowaki stepped out of the shower. He dressed quickly and then went to the fridge. He smiled sadly when he opened the door and it revealed the lunch Hiro-san had packed for him that morning before they'd left for the appointment. Nowaki pulled this out to take with him, along with a few other items that had been left over from the previous evening's meal. He put a few things into a bowl and started eating while he stood leaning back against the counter.

He knew that Hiroki would have told him that he needed to be eating more, but with his anxiety about their fight and now missing the appointment he really didn't have much of an appetite.

Nowaki glanced around their apartment as he ate. He knew that by many people's standards the interior of his home would be described as spare. But Hiro-san really didn't have need of much, with the exception of books which the apartment did have in abundance and he didn't have need of much, with the exception of Hiro-san.

Nowaki rinsed his bowl and set it in the sink.

As he was grabbing his coat and bag, just before he put his shoes on, Nowaki thought about leaving a note. He set his bag down and slipped into his coat as he moved back into the apartment.

He looked about for a piece of scratch paper in the kitchen and then realized he could never leave a missive to someone as special as Hiro-san on something so degraded. Instead he went into their library, Hiroki's office, and found a piece of stationary. He sat at his professor's desk and wrote:

Dear Hiro-san,

I am so sorry that I missed our appointment today. I overslept. I would have called you, but somehow I managed to break my phone. You are right as usual, I am an idiot.

I know how much you hate going to Kobayashi-sensei. I hope that when I didn't show up that you left and went somewhere and bought yourself a book or twelve instead.

Hiro-san, I am so sorry for what I said. I can't bear it when we fight. You know you are my heart. Let's please have breakfast together in the morning so we can talk about things.

I love you,

Nowaki

Nowaki glanced at the clock over Hiroki's desk and realized that he had to go. Then in keeping with a habit he'd forged years ago while living in another land, he neatly folded the note up and stuck it in the pocket of his coat. He stood and moved to the hall, grabbed his bag, slipped into his shoes and out the door.

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