Disclaimer: I do not own Junjou Romantica. I wrote this story just for fun and I am not making any profit out of it.

Author's Note I: I think Usagi-san came out a bit OOC... also, I think it resembles my other fics too much… :(

Author's Note II: Sorry for spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native tongue.


Freezing

Misaki liked the night trains, the last ones that ran before the clock struck midnight. They weren't as crowded, there was plenty of room to sit and breathe, and the ride was just more peaceful, with the nightlights whizzing by, creating a shining chain he could not tear his eyes from. That was, of course, until the train entered a tunnel again.

The train he boarded that night had no vacant sits though, so he opted, without much choice, to stand next to a very tall guy who looked awfully familiar, but as much as he tried, Misaki just couldn't put his finger on why. He felt embarrassed to always look up and think, and he was sure that at some point or another he would not be able to turn his head on time and the man will notice him staring at him like that.

He glanced at his watch. It was already past eleven, and he was beginning to feel the tiredness creeping, causing him to yawn and rub his left eye tiredly. He was used to juggling his studies and his part-time job, but sometimes he felt like it was taking too much out of him. Plus, Usagi-san would probably harass him once he'll step a foot into the apartment, and Misaki really, seriously, was not in the mood for that. He frowned at that thought.

The train jumped and he fell backwards, strong arms catching him before he managed to complete his fall. The tall man looked down kindly at him and helped him straighten up again. Misaki blushed and brushed invisible dirt off of his shirt, mumbling a quiet thank you. That scene looked too familiar, he decided. It was there, he could feel it, the answer to the riddle that bugged him since he boarded the train, and he was about to say something about it to the man when the train jumped again, or more like flew up. He yelped, the lights went out, and again just as he felt like he was falling somebody pulled him back, and they both stumbled. Sounds of crunching metals, screams, and the vague smell of smoke enveloped him. He felt around, trying to finds something to grab unto, but he and his catcher simply kept on sliding backwards, hitting everything that tried blocking their way.

Suddenly they stopped. Misaki dared not to breathe, absorbing the deathly silence that surrounded him. Then, in a flash, came the pain, sharp and vivid, and with it came the screams. Bloodcurdling, loud and high, sending shivers down his spine. It took Misaki a moment to realize he was screaming as well.

He tried moving his hands, but found he couldn't. His left hand was stuck somewhere, and it felt as if his right hand wasn't even there, until he felt someone holding it. He fell silent and looked around, trying to adjust to the darkness, panic rising and causing his breath to come out in short puffs. "Shh…" someone whispered, the hold on his hand tightening.

A small flame illuminated the area, and as it grew bigger Misaki could make out a pair of blue eyes looking at him, piercing and yet at the same time calming. He breathed in deeply, but it hurt and he cringed, his breathing becoming irregular. The man shushed him again, not removing his gaze. "You'll be alright," he said, massaging his aching hand slowly.

There was blood covering the man's face, Misaki realized. He could feel some of it dripping on his face, mixing with his own. "You'll pull through," the man said again, his voice quiet, but still Misaki could hear it clearly, even with all the screams around. "Just think of someone you'd like to see now," the man said then, lowering Misaki's hand to the floor. "Think of their smile," he said. And just like that the image of a smiling Usagi-san appeared in his mind, and it was so real Misaki could swear he could smell him. He coughed violently as smoke filled his lungs, panic returning in full force. Would he be burnt alive? What would Usagi-san say? What would he feel? Would he be lonely if Misaki died?

"Don't cry," the man said, but Misaki didn't notice his own tears and he wasn't even sure he was crying. "I know," the man whispered.

And then it clicked.

The tall man that helped him twice to his feet, the man from the flower shop, was lying above him now, whispering calming words to him. "I know," he said again. Only then did Misaki realize that although the man's stare was fixed on him, his words weren't.

Then everything turned so black that even the fire around could not help him see.


The sun was beginning to disappear from behind the buildings and skyscrapers of Tokyo when Miyagi Yoh arrived to his destination – an apartment that belonged to his assistant.

In all honesty, he didn't want to be there right now. No, he would much rather be at his own apartment and eat one of Shinobu's burnt cabbage dishes. But the dean begged him to go, and when Miyagi thought about it, he realized he might be the best person for the job. Shinobu didn't want him to go to Kamijou's apartment alone, of course, and he followed him all the way to his car, but eventually Miyagi managed to convince him that he was not having any affair with his assistant and that he only went there because Kamijou was absent for the past few days and no one really knew why.

It wasn't a complete lie, really. Kamijou did disappear from campus, but the reason was known to everyone and anyone with a position.

Miyagi could feel cold sweat running down his face and wiped it quickly with his sleeve, straightened his tie, and knocked.

No answer.

He expected it and tried again, louder this time. "Kamijou?" he called. "Kmaijou, open up, I know you're there!" still no answer.

Miyagi sighed heavily and turned the doorknob slowly, his heart skipping a beat when the door opened with ease.

Just as he expected it.

"Kamijou?" he called again, tentatively and looked around the apartment. It didn't take long until he spotted his assistant lying on the couch, face pressed into the yellow cushions and hand dangling limply on the side. At first Miyagi thought the brown-haired man was sleeping, until he heard a very soft, yet very harsh and audible "go away."

Miyagi's eyebrow twitched. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say, but he had no intention of turning on his heels and walking away. He approached the couch slowly and sat next to where his assistant's head was. Miyagi wasn't sure what to think when Kamijou did not argue back or even rewarded him with a sharp glare.

"H…how are you feeling today, Kamijou?" he managed, voice a bit too high and cracking, and he wasn't even sure why. His assistant merely huffed in response.

Miyagi sighed once again and rubbed his temples, feeling a headache approaching. Maybe he shouldn't have come here, after all?

"Say, Kamijou," Miyagi started again, quietly. "Why don't I take out to drink? It'll be on me, so you can drink all you like…"

This time the brown-haired man did not huff even, simply remained lying there on the couch in his silence. "I'm sure Kusama-kun-"

This got something from Kamijou, alright. The man straightened up immediately and glared at his senior. Miyagi was a bit taken aback by what he saw; bloodshot eyes, from crying and probably lack of sleep, black bags beneath them, disheveled hair, and face thinner than the last time Miyagi had seen it. "Don't-" Hiroki hissed, his voice full of pain, causing Miyagi to cringe slightly. "-ever, say that name again, professor Miyagi."

Well, at least he was still polite. In his own way.

"Don't say that, Kamijou, I'm sure Kusama-ku-"

"I don't want to hear it!" his assistant yelled, shutting his eyes tightly and covering his ears, shaking his head vigorously. "I don't want to hear that name!" his breathing became ragged and he curled into himself slowly, once again hiding his face from view.

Miyagi blinked, feeling something tug at his heart, pulling at it. It was not a pleasant feeling and it was like something he never felt before.

"Please," his assistant whispered, his voice cracking. "Just go away…"

Miyagi sighed. A part of him wanted to obey and leave quietly, but the other just wouldn't allow his legs to work. He rubbed his forehead. He was never good at consoling others, he was doing a terrible job when he was trying to console himself, but…

"You know, Kamijou," Miyagi started again, leaning on his hand. "It might come as a shock to you, but I do know how you're feeling." There was no response from his assistant, but Miyagi knew he was listening, so he continued. "When I was in high-school I was in love with my teacher. Well, maybe 'in love' is an understatement… we were together for a short time, too short if you ask me. She got sick, her body slowly deteriorated… Kamijou, I saw her dying slowly before my eyes until she finally slipped away."

"I honestly thought I could die," he continued. "For years after that I just couldn't get over it, I thought I'd never love again, but… time… it may not heal all of the wounds Kamijou, but time makes it easier to deal with them."

There was still no response from the figure on the couch, and Miyagi thought he got to him, perhaps, but then his assistant spoke in a voice so low Miyagi wasn't' sure if he heard right. "Please, just go away…"

Miyagi sighed heavily, but figuring there was not much he could do anymore, got up. "Alright, if that's how you feel. But remember, if you ever feel it's too much… you can call me. You're still my friend." Miygai wasn't expecting a response, so he was not disappointed when none came. He turned around and left the apartment.


Akihiko felt like he was about to throw up, but whenever he went to the bathroom nothing came out, no matter how hard he tried and retched. The constant glances at the clock did not help matters any, but in the emptiness of his apartment he felt like there was nothing else he could do.

He already finished three packs o cigarettes today, and he was sure that if Misaki was there, he would have snatched those packs away. That thought brought a small smile to his lips, but it disappeared as soon as the following glance at the clock told him that only one minute passed from the previous once, and that he has three more hours to waste until he'd be able to see his beloved.

Misaki, his Misaki, was finally out of the ICU after two weeks. He was still pretty much unconscious most of the time, according to Takahiro, but Akihiko did not care. The staff at the hospital forbade him from seeing his roommate, saying only family members were allowed to do so. Takahiro's and his persistence that he was a family member did not help. Akihiko contemplated his possibilities, wondering if perhaps he should admit his relationship with Misaki to Takahiro and to the nurse, but he realized Misaki would not want that, and left it at that.

And today, finally, he'd be able to see him. Those past two weeks were harsh, beginning from when he heard the terrible news on TV, to the point where Misaki did not return home or answered his calls. A few hours and numerous calls to various hospitals later, he found the whereabouts of his lover. Life had been hell after that.

He was so afraid of losing Misaki, he couldn't sleep, couldn't eat… his apartment was a complete mess, and he was sure Misaki would reprimand him about it. He was tempted to leave it like that, then Misaki would return quicker so he could clean it up. He knew it could never happen, though…

He tried turning on his television, but nothing interesting enough was on, if even if something was, Akihiko was sure he would not pay it any attention. He won't succeed in writing, that was for sure. Aikawa told him he could take some time off after she heard about what happened, but she told him he should at least resume writing his columns. She was kind enough to postpone deadlines, too.

Akihiko sighed and took a final drag from his cigarette, watching the smoke swirling around him, creating various unrecognizable shapes. Maybe he should read something? Yeah, reading could always take his mind off of things. He didn't have that much books around, at least to his opinion, and he did not feel like restarting a novel. It would be too long and pointless to do so now.

With a resolution in mind he grabbed his car keys and left his apartment, heading towards Mitsuhashi University, intending on seeing a certain friend of his.

It's been a long time since he'd been there last, so it took him awhile to find the correct department and the correct office. The students in the Literature department recognized him immediately, unfortunately, and some female students asked for his autograph. He wanted to refuse them, the need to get away growing bigger, but he smiled, nonetheless, and signed various notebooks.

He knocked lightly on the wooden door to Hiroki's office when all of the students finally left for class, but didn't wait for a reply and opened it, slipping inside and hurriedly shutting the door behind him. He glanced up, and to his disappointment Hiroki wasn't there. His senior was, though, and said man looked up confusedly from his laptop. "U-Usami-sensei?" he asked, unsure.

"Uh…. Yeah," Akihiko replied, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Is uh… is Hiroki around?" he asked.

The black-haired man smiled sadly and stood up, facing the visitor. "Unfortunately, Kamijou isn't here today. Would you like me to relay a message for him?"

Akihiko shook his head. "Uh… no, no, I just wanted to borrow some children's book I like, but if Hiroki's not around…"

The black-haired man's eyes widened then. "Are you close friends?" he asked. Akihiko blinked, and the professor paled and shook his hands in front of him, nervous and embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry, it's just that you refer to him by his first name so I thought… Kamijou mentioned knowing you a few times, but-"

"Yeah, we're childhood friends," Akihiko replied, cutting the professor off mid-sentence.

Professor Miyagi calmed down and smiled. "Well then, Usami-sensei, can I offer you a drink?"

Akihiko shook his head beginning to turn around. "No, there's no need. There's someplace I have to be, anyway… "

"No, wait!" Miyagi called as his visitor was about to step out, hand already on the doorknob. "Listen…" he continued quietly as the grey-haired man turned around to look at him with sharp eyes. "I may be rude for asking this, but if you're his friend… you… you know Hiroki was seeing someone, right?"

Akihiko cocked one eyebrow up in confusion. "Was? Did they break up?"

The other man chuckled, but there was no amusement in his voice. "No, no… you remember that train wreck a couple of weeks ago, right?" oh, did he remember alright… "well, Kamijou's... special someone was killed." He finished, his eyes softening. Akihiko wasn't sure what to think, his eyes widening. He… he never heard of any of that...

"Kamijou didn't show up for work since then," the professor continued. "I went to his place once, and he's a complete mess, I was wondering, if you two are friends… if you'd visit him? I think it might help him…"

Akihiko looked down, numerous thoughts running through his head. Hiroki always tried to act tough, but Akihiko knew that deep inside he was so sensitive that it was almost too easy to bring him to a breakdown. If his lover indeed died, then Hiroki was probably…

"Yes," he said finally. "Thank you for telling me, professor Miyagi. I'll go pay him a visit right now."


There was no answer from the other side when Akihiko knocked. He frowned, tried again, and then turned the doorknob. The door opened with ease and Akihiko entered slowly, hesitant.

"Hiroki?" he called, looking around. The hall was empty, and so were the kitchen and living room. Finally he spotted his friend in his bedroom, lying fully-clothed on the bed, hugging a pillow to his chest. Akihiko figured his friend was probably sleeping. A quick glance at his watch told him he had two more hours until he'd be able to visit Misaki, so he decided to stay around and wait for his friend to wake up. If he knew Hiroki as he claimed to, then his sleep was probably troubled right now.

He sat down next to the brown-haired man and watched as the frown on his face deepened as he mumbled incoherently. Akihiko smiled tenderly, noticing how sweat made Hiroki's locks of hair to stick to his forehead. With his right hand he brushed them off slowly, tucking them behind Hiroki's ear. When he was about to remove his hand, his friend's hand shot up quickly and caught it, holding it limply. "Nowaki…" his friend breathed slowly. "…nd…cold…"

Akihiko thought his heart broke.

A tear slipped from one of his friend's shut eyes, and he woke up with a start, head shooting up quickly to gaze with wide, hopeful eyes at his visitor. Akihiko watched sadly as those hazel eyes narrowed, mirroring unfathomable sadness as a dry sob escaped the assistant professor's lips. "You're not him…" he said quietly.

"Hiroki…" Akihiko whispered. He grabbed his friend's shoulders and pulled him into a hug. Hiroki tried to resist at first, trying to push the visitor away, but after a few minutes he calmed down, allowing hot tears to drop on Akihiko's blue shirt and stain it. Akihiko shushed him, patting his head slowly.

"He's gone," Hiroki eventually choked out from between his sobs. "I-I never told him goodbye, I n-never told him s-so, so much, I-" but then he couldn't speak anymore, fingernails digging into Akihiko's back.

Akihiko kept on sitting there silently, hands running down Hiroki's back until the latter fell asleep in his arms after what seemed like forever. Akihiko sighed deeply and laid the man down on the bed, straightening his hair. "…waki…" the man mumbled again. But this time he didn't wake up. Thin fingers brushed against Akihiko's and the brown-haired man breathed in deeply, shuddering. "Your hands… cold…"

Akihiko bit his lower lip. He turned his head to the side and noticed a crumpled photograph on the drawer. He picked it up and stared at it with interest. It was a picture of Kusama-kun, with his black hairs and blue eyes, smiling widely, and next to him there was a very flustered Hiroki. Akihiko wondered briefly where it was taken. Hiroki was never a fond of photographs. Something told him that it was probably the only picture of his lover that Hiroki had.

He sighed deeply and put it back down. "I'll be back," he said finally, turned around and left the apartment, heading towards the hospital.


Akihiko stood outside the hospital, smoking slowly, waiting for the clock to strike two – the hour in which he'd be able to meet his beloved. Takahiro told him he won't be able to come today, and Akihiko was quite grateful for that, really, because he didn't know if he'd be able to stop himself from kissing Misaki right there on the spot.

Two cigarettes later Akihiko entered the huge building, hands tucked deep in his pockets, eyes hard. He passed the small, useless flower and chocolate shops in the entrance, turned right towards the elevators and up to the fifth floor.

A nurse at the counter directed him to the correct room. He walked slowly, watching as the numbers on the doors went up. Those were shared rooms, he figured, and he told himself to make sure to use some money and move his Misaki to someplace more private.

Room 523 was at the end of the hall, next to the emergency exit and the door to the large balcony. Akihiko entered, peeking from behind the curtains, disappointment falling over him whenever he saw patients he wasn't looking for.

Misaki's bed was at the end of the room, next to the window. Akihiko was thankful for that. He grabbed a plastic chair and sat down, staring intently at his beloved. So many tubes were coming out of him that it was almost scary, both of his hands were bandaged, his right leg was in cast, and when Akihiko looked closely he noticed blue marks and dried wounds on whatever piece of skin that was available to the eye.

Akihiko breathed in a shuddered breath and closed his eyes momentarily, taking in what he just saw. Takahiro told him it was pretty bad, that Misaki would probably take months to recover completely, but at least he was alive. There were at least one hundred people that weren't.

Kusama-san wasn't.

Akihiko felt bad about his Junai Egoist series then, and wondered if he should make sure it won't be on sale anymore.

He was shaken out of his daze when a low groan sounded from the direction of the bed. Akihiko stood up immediately and leaned down, staring intently at his lover as his eyes opened slowly.

Misaki blinked a few times, eyes half closed, and a tiny smile crossed his lips. "I's you…" he mumbled, his words jumbled. Akihiko smiled tenderly and brushed a few strands of hair from his beloved's face.

"Yes," he whispered. He wanted to say something more, but decided against it. Misaki should get his rest and not talk.

"You're 'live…" Misaki whispered then, voice barely audible. Akihiko was a bit taken aback by that, but before he could ask anything the happiness in Misaki's eyes changed suddenly into some sort of sadness. "No…" he breathed. "Not 'im… Usagi-sa…" then his eyes closed and he fell asleep again.

Akihiko sat there, dumbfounded, his eyes wide. What was that?

He remained in his place until visiting hours were over, hoping to see those lovely green eyes open again, but Misaki remained in his unconscious state for the remainder of Akihiko's visit.

When he stood up, preparing to leave, the doctor entered. He came to Misaki's bed first and smiled widely when his eyes landed on Akihiko. "Ah, another visitor for the young man," he said. "I can tell he's quite likeable."

"Yes," Akihiko replied quietly. "I'm a friend of the family." That wasn't a complete lie.

The doctor chuckled and took the chart from the foot of the bed, scanning it quickly. "It may take some time," the doctor said as he put the chart back in place, "but he'll recover. We managed to get him out of the danger zone… it's quite fortunate, you know."

"Of course," Akihiko said, grabbing his wallet from where he put it on the drawer next to Misaki's bed.

"If that man wasn't there, this guy wouldn't have been here as well," the doctor said, scribbling something on a paper he brought.

"Excuse me?" Akihiko asked.

The doctor looked up at him, blinked stupidly, and smiled. "Oh, I'm sorry. In the report we got it said that the man who was lying on top of him in the wreckage got most of the blow. He died, unfortunately, but he saved your friend. This young man here also, he seems to look for him whenever he wakes up. Well, if you'll excuse me, I have other patients to check up on. Have a nice day." And with that the doctor moved to next bed.

Akihiko remained standing there for some time more, but then the doctor gave him an angry look and motioned with his head towards the exit. Akihiko took the hint and left.


It was only a month after the accident that Misaki was able to stay awake for more than half a minute. The cast on his leg was removed, and so were some of the bandages, and his general appearance became much more appealing. The doctor said that in a couple of weeks he'd be able to leave the hospital.

Akihiko visited him everyday, with Takahiro and his family sometimes joining. Akihiko believed that they gave him strength, and that thanks to that his recovery was quicker than normal.

It was in a Saturday evening when Misaki was finally able to speak coherently. He opened his eyes slowly and looked at Akihiko, and once again his eyes changed from happy to sad. "Usagi-san…" he whispered and coughed weakly. "Where… that man…" he said and coughed again.

"What man, Misaki?" Akihiko asked, although he knew very well who his lover wanted to see.

"From the train…" the younger man replied. "He… he told me I'll live. I'm alive Usagi-san, but where…" tears slipped from his eyes slowly and Akihiko didn't know if they were tears of pain or tears of sadness.

"He died," Akihiko answered simply, knowing that lying would not give good results when Misaki's mind would be clear again. "But you're alive thanks to him, Misaki."

"Ah," Misaki breathed, tears coming down faster. "I-I see…" he sniffled. "His name?"

Akihiko shook his head and Misaki released a dry sob, shutting his eyes. "Like you…" Misaki said, voice cracking.

"Hm?" Akihiko asked, taking Misaki's hand in his own.

Misaki was panting in between words and Akihiko knew it was still hard for him to talk. "He looked… like you… blue eyes… his were… warmer… hands… big… black hair…"

"Shh, Misaki," Akihiko soothed, tightening his grip on Misaki's hand. "Don't talk too much yet."

Misaki shook his head weakly. "But… he saved… me... he's gone…"

Akihiko needed a smoke, he decided, but he used his last cigarette about an hour ago. "I'll be right back, Misaki," he said to the already falling asleep teen. "Rest well."

The automatic machines were on the first floor. Akihiko inserted a few coins and grabbed his reward quickly, intending or returning to the fifth floor immediately, but when he glanced outside he saw a gathering in the yard, with various staff members, some patients, and… was that Hiroki?

Curiosity got the better of him and he stepped outside. Indeed, in the back of the crowd stood Hiroki, dark sunglasses covering his eyes, hat covering his hairs and a large coat covering his body. It was mid-July, and Akihiko remembered with pain that about a week ago, when he met him at the second-hand bookstore and asked about his unusual winter gear, Hiroki told him that nowadays he was always cold. "It's so cold lately that sometimes I think I'm freezing to death," Hiroki had told him.

He stood behind him, looking at the center of the crowd where an old doctor was talking. Behind him there was a picture of Hiroki's dead lover.

A memorial service…

Hiroki's lover was beautiful, Akihiko concluded suddenly. Dark skin, deep blue eyes, black… hair… his eyes widened.

"Hiroki?" he whispered into his friend's ear.

The brown-haired man turned to look at him with surprise written all over his face. "Akihiko?" he asked. It pained Akihiko to listen to his friend lately. His voice was dead, empty, and so were his eyes.

So was his soul.

"What's going on?" Akihiko asked him, although to him it was quite obvious.

"A memorial service for No-" Hiroki lowered his head. "-for him…" he continued. "He used to work in this hospital…"

Akihiko nodded. "Say," he whispered when the doctor in the center finished talking. "My… roommate is hospitalized here… he was in that horrible train wreck, too, and I think… I think he might have met Kusa-"

Hiroki shot his hand up and shut Akihiko's mouth quickly. "I don't want to hear that name," he hissed.

Akihiko removed the hand forcefully. "He mentioned a blue-eyed man who saved him," he finished. Hiroki looked back up at him with big, disbelieving eyes. "Room 523," Akihiko mumbled quickly. "Come whenever you can."


It was nearing noon. Misaki was sitting up in his bed, eating the miso soup he was served slowly, wincing whenever he swallowed, as Akihiko watched over him from the side.

"The doctor said that in a few more days you'd be able to leave here, Misaki. Isn't it great news?" Akihiko asked, laying his hand on top of Misaki's covered body.

Misaki nodded slowly. "Yes. I feel a bit better now." He was speaking the truth, Akihiko thought, if his lack of panting was any indication to that. "I can't wait to be home again…"

Misaki looked up then and his eyes widened. Akihiko, worried at this, looked up too and smiled a bit when he saw Hiroki standing there, sans sunglasses and hat, just the coat, buttoned all the way up.

"K-Kamijou sensei?" Misaki breathed, soup spilling as he tried to move. Akihiko grabbed the tray quickly, preventing the rest from spilling. "W-what are you doing here?"

"You know him, Misaki?" Akihiko asked, surprised.

"I… took a course with him in my freshmen year," was the reply.

"Ah, right. Hiroki here, he's a childhood friend of mine."

"Hello," Hiroki said, voice dry. "How are you feeling?"

Misaki nodded dumbly. "Better, thanks…" he glanced at Akihiko worriedly, demanding for answers with his eyes.

"Actually, Misaki," Akihiko began, putting his hands in his lap. "Hiroki's… good friend died in the train accident," Misaki winced. Akihiko knew it was painful for him to remember, but he wanted to help his friend, so he continued. "I… we think… the person that saved you… we think it might have been his friend."

Misaki looked up at Hiroki, shocked. "Eh…?" he breathed. Hiroki merely looked away, saying nothing. Instead, he pulled out a wallet from his pocket and gave it to Akihiko.

Akihiko opened the leather wallet and gave it for Misaki to see. The young man's eyes widened further and he looked up at Hiroki again, pale. "That man…. from the train…"

Hiroki stared back at him, just as shocked. "You've met him?" he asked quietly, voice somewhat cracking.

Misaki nodded quickly. "He… he pulled me back, when that train jumped… they… the doctors told me that he received the major blow… I was saved, thanks to him…" he bowed his head suddenly, nearly touching the covers with it. "Thank you very much!" he mumbled quickly.

"Nowa- this guy," Hiroki said quietly, hands shaking. "That saved you… did he… tell you something?"

Misaki nodded. "Yes, yes, when we finally stopped falling, it really felt like we were falling… he told me that I'll pull through. And then… towards the end… you know, he was looking at me but… he was someplace else, I'm sure he was someplace else... and he said… he said he knows…"

Hiroki gulped. "Knows what?" he asked.

"Just… that he knows."

Akihiko watched anxiously as Hiroki's hands shook harder and were lifted slowly to his hairs, pulling at them. His eyes were as wide as saucers and tears gathered at their corners. Without another word he turned around and ran out.

Akihiko panicked, grabbed the forgotten wallet from Misaki's grip and ran after him. When he saw the elevators doors closing after his friend he ran down the stairs, dodging dazed nurses and reprimanding doctors, until he finally caught up with Hiroki in the hospital yard. "Hiroki!" he cried. His friend kept on running, so Akihiko grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to turn around and face him. His eyes widened.

Hiroki was crying, he was certainly sobbing but… he was smiling. "H-here's your wallet," Akihiko said quietly and handed it to him.

Hiroki nodded, and Akihiko watched with mild surprise as he unbuttoned his coat, removed it, and threw it on his shoulder. "Thanks," he said.

"Aren't you… didn't you say you were cold?" Akihiko asked him.

Hiroki shook his head slowly and sniffled. "No, no… actually…"


"Is Kamijou-sensei alright?" Misaki asked him once he returned.

"Oh, he's fine now, I'm sure…" Akihiko replied, taking his sit on the plastic chair next to the hospital bed.

Misaki looked down at the covers sadly. "He just looked very angry…" his hand clenched into a fist.

Akihiko took the fist in his hand, enjoying Misaki's blush at this action. "Don't let it bother you. Hiroki was never good at expressing his feelings."

Misaki nodded, smiling slightly. "Do you think…" he started, hesitation in his voice. "Do you think that the man who saved me… when he told me those words… do you really think they were meant for him?"

Akihiko looked up at the ceiling, sighing quietly in sadness. "I'm positive," he answered quietly.

"…Actually it's not so cold… anymore…"



End.

Author's Note III: I'm not into death fics in this fandom usually, but I was inspired, so…

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