Today I had my first biology class of the course. And let me just say, it's going to be a loooooong semester. I was never very bright when it came to science, and college level biology just might do me in… Our first unit is the human body, and I already feel like breaking down after only the first day! I saw one of the girl students crying today after class about how overwhelming the course will be, and I almost wanted to join her. Thinking about biology, and my future grade, I could very easily cry right now…
Oh my goodness—I sound like a complete, utter girl! Baka Usagi-san! Trying to feminize me…
Something that disappointed me in class today: we briefly discussed (more like the kyoujuu, who is like 100 years old I SWEAR TO GOD, droned on and on and on and on and on and on and on, and all the students slept.) pheromones (BAKAAAAAA USAGI!), and I learned that my concept of "usamones" biologically cannot exist. That depressed me a little. I always felt a little happy knowing I was automatically considered attractive by members of the Usami family, but now I guess I have to work for their affections…
Oh well, I have to start on my biology homework now…I hate this!
Usami chuckled to himself as he finished Misaki's diary entry. Unbeknownst to his lover, Usami had recently made it his daily habit to read Misaki's diary—a pink one, of course—while the boy was attending classes or his part time job. He enjoyed delving into the mind of Misaki that he often didn't get to experience, even if his method of doing so was entirely invasive of Misaki's privacy.
In terms of this latest entry, Usami felt particularly entertained. He found it adorably funny how indecisive and ignorant the teen was of his homosexual and feminine persona, especially since it was so painfully obvious.
Tonight, I shall remind him, Usami smugly thought to himself, that he has no need to doubt my attraction towards him. After all, it is said students do learn best by example. And tonight, Misaki would certainly experience an example of Usami's affection for him that he would never forget.
Nowaki felt the book hit him in the temple with an unusual force. Throughout the course of their relationship, his lover had pelted him with miscellaneous objects—usually books—an innumerable amount of times, and yet this blow actually took an effect on him. "H-hiro-san," he stammered, sinking slowly to the ground, a feeling of shocked, fuzzy numbness encasing him. "I do believe you aimed that book slightly too forceful…I don't feel particularly—"
And with that, Nowaki's eyes flickered slightly before he saw black.
The images surrounding Nowaki's head were undefined and pixilated. The noises he heard were blurred and fogged. He tried to focus and confirm what he heard and saw. He could see bright colors dancing before him, and he could hear smooth noises that resembled children's laughter echoing in the distance. Nowaki sighed contentedly and shivered pleasantly as a warm sensation similar to an early summer breeze engulfed him. Gradually, the laughter grew sharper and deeper, and Nowaki could almost decipher words being said.
Nowaki could definitely detect the word baka being said.
"BAKA! NOWAKI! BAKA! WAKE UP!" Nowaki's eyes shot open and he instantly clenched them shut as he regained consciousness. When he opened them again, he realized Hiroki was inches away from his face, loudly screeching at him. "NOWAKI! WAKE UP!" His cheeks were flushed and angry, his eyes glimmering with both concern and embarrassment.
"Hello, Hiro-san," Nowaki smiled slightly at him.
"YOU IDIOT! YOU BLACKED OUT FOR FIVE MINUTES JUST BECAUSE I THREW A GODDAMN BOOK AT YOU. I'VE THROWN PLENTY OF STUFF AT YOU! AND YOU CHOOSE NOW TO PRACTICALLY DIE FROM A SIMPLE BOOK BEING FLUNG AT YOUR GIANT HEAD!"
"Hiro-san, please," Nowaki hushed him, slowly sitting back up, clutching his forehead. "I've got quite a headache from that book. You must've hit me in a sensitive spot, triggering a small concussion or something of that matter."
"PEOPLE DON'T DIE FROM BEING GRAZED WITH A BOOK!" Hiroki's cheeks had returned more to their normal color, but he still contained a hyperactive expression. "DON'T WORRY ME LIKE THAT! YOU…" he took a deep breath. "…Wait, did you just say you can get concussed from being hit with a book?"
"Well, if it its hurled hard enough," Nowaki grimaced, rubbing his noggin. "Apparently so."
Hiroki stood up to fetch an icepack, grumbling along the way. He couldn't even remember why he'd tossed a book—the Japanese to English Pocket Dictionary, to be precise—at his lover, just how upset and guilty he'd felt when Nowaki reacted in such a way.
When Hiroki returned to Nowaki, he handed him the icepack. "Oy, could you hear me screaming at you when you blacked out?"
"Hmm," Nowaki paused. "I think…what I saw…was a really soft place…or something…I heard children giggling. And then, there was, like, this deep voice repeating 'baka' over and over. But the place I saw was beautiful, Hiro-san! Such bright colors and soothing noises, well besides—"
"You know what," Hiroki interrupted him, cupping his lover's mouth with the palm of his hand. "That's okay. I don't really want to hear about your wacky unconscious place. You seem to be fine, so let's just leave the matter." He stood and returned to his desk to resume grading a thick stack of literary essays.
Nowaki remained sitting on the floor, still somewhat dazed, but grinning broadly in an odd fashion.
Miyagi sighed as he lit another cigarette, quite possibly his fifth of the hour. It was well past the time that he should be home, having fun with a certain little minor. However, the pile of essays that damn Kamijou refused to grade, claiming he already had enough on his hands (bullshit), remained sitting atop his desk, untouched.
As it always seemed, he was overloaded with work, and he felt that procrastination was the best method to solve his problems. Finally, Miyagi gained enough conviction to reach over and fetch the first essay, readying his pen to revise it.
Surprisingly, Miyagi managed to remain focused for quite some time, and graded about half of the classes' essays when he noticed an unfamiliar paper placed upon the top of the pile. Unlike the class essays, this was a single sheet of yellow lined paper with a note scribbled in pen. Curiously, Miyagi took the paper and examined it.
Miyagi—you bastard, you fucking liar.
You promised me you'd be home early tonight, but I noticed this HUGE pile of work that you've left until the last minute (as USUAL!) to grade, when I brought you lunch today. You're such a bullshitter! Right now, you're probably stuck here all night grading these stupid essays because you were too stupid and lazy to start earlier. At least that whore you call a coworker has enough sense to finish his assignments punctually and efficiently, unlike YOU. Well, I want you to know that you've been caught—you can't lie to me, you bastard! Enjoy grading these essays all fucking night, while I'm at home, cozy and enjoying myself. And, NO, you can't come over when you get home.
Fuck you. And fuck your lies.
Miyagi couldn't help but snicker at his lover's attempt to write a dramatic letter in retaliation to his incompetence. He sighed thoughtfully, yearning more than ever to go home and kiss and hug and fuck that little brat as much as humanly possible.
Instead, he uncapped his grading pen and wrote a response below Shinobu's entry:
Shinobu-chin, 100% for your undeniable effort and relentlessness. Congratulations, brat, you've earned the highest grade in the class so far.
Shinobu flushed when Miyagi returned his letter the following morning. "What the hell, Miyagi?" he complained. "You weren't actually supposed to reply to that! You're an idiot…I'm not even in your literary class." His cheeks reddened at the sight of his lover. "Miyagi! Stop laughing at me!"