Chapter Three: The Demon's Heart (part 1)

Serenity and bliss.

Such simple yet necessary words to describe the gentle sounds of breathing, the warmth of skin, the lovely feel of feathered hair tickling your nose; the honeydew smell of that soft hair. Simplicity in its most beautiful form. Arms, once used for hauling books around or a pillow during class, softly laying over the torso of a man who could more than just scoff at their previous use.

Oh, the irony of love, Kamijou Hiroki thought to himself as he laid, cuddled with his delicate lover. His firey amber eyes stared affectionately at the sleeping boy beside him whilst his long fingers lovingly played with the younger brunette's hair. Misaki was all he never wanted. Or so he used to think, but love was really a strange thing. How a teen, so young, so innocent, could have ever won his complex heart was beyond him. At the same time though, it was inevitable. Misaki was precious. He knew he felt something more for him the first time they'd interacted, but pride and denial easily sunk those early feelings.

And how could he love me? The twenty eight year old always felt compelled to doubt his young lover's feelings. Misaki was so selfless and lovely, while he felt he was harsh and bitter. He couldn't help but slightly blame his persona on the unrequited love he once held for Akihiko. Living your life with love for a man who would never reciprocate your feelings often leaves any human's heart cold and frail. Hiroki was no exception. It was difficult for him to accept that he had fallen for another man. All those years of secretly pining for Akihiko's romantic attention—could it all have really been a waste of time? A couple years back he would have never desired anyone more than the lavender eyed man, yet now, here he was, holding this sweet boy in his arms after a rather passionate bout of making love. And he did indeed desire Misaki more than Akihiko now.

Gently inhaling the refreshing aroma of Misaki's hair, Hiroki closed his eyes and began to reminisce on how they had become like this. It was funny, really. Misaki started out as being a mere student; another name to the list of youngsters that were doomed with his generous hand outs of Fs. The young brunette was always quiet in class, his efforts to be a good student were obvious. It almost made Hiroki feel bad that he was such a horrible student, but that was about the only shred of acknowledgment for Misaki that the teacher ever had.

Then came the fourth month of class.

By now all the students of Mitsuhashi University were enlightened with the fact that Kamijou Hiroki was a book throwing ninja (for lack of a better word). One afternoon, while Hiroki was giving a very passionate lecture to his class on the significance of foreshadowment in the first scene of Julius Caesar, his ears caught the sound of whispering. He pinpointed the sound around the middle left area of the classroom where two students were seated. A boy with brown hair was whispering something to a boy with silver hair next to him.

Kamijou Hiroki would have none of that.

Without hesitation he lifted a random book off his desk and flung it in their direction. The hard covered book slapped the brunette in the face, causing the boy beside him to flinch.

"No talking in my class, Takahashi!" he barked, red-faced.

"But I was-"

"I will hear no excuses. That's a detention for you, by the way!"

"Sensei I was just-"

"Speaking during a lecture about true literature is unforgivable! I will be sure to keep your interruption in mind while I'm grading your test! The nerve of adolescence!"

"Kamijou-sensei, please-"

"Stop trying to make excuses, I'll have you know I'm-"

"Be quiet already!" Misaki briskly stood up and yelled. The classroom went silent. Hiroki's eyes widened and his brows knit together.

"I was just telling Sumi-sempai what page we were on! You could barely even hear me!" the brunette continued while looking down at his feet with balled fists at his sides, "And even if I was being really loud, you have no right to throw a book at my face! What is your problem? You could have seriously hurt someone! Yelling at your students is one thing, but to actually throw something? Are you crazy? 'Think before you act', didn't your parents ever teach you that phrase?" Taking in a deep breath to continue, Misaki looked straight into Hiroki's eyes with anger, "Baka!"

Misaki sat back down. He stubbornly stared down at his desk not daring to meet the eyes of his teacher. Luckily, the dismissal bell rung before the ambiance in the room got even more awkward. Gathering his things quickly, Misaki strut out of the classroom as fast as he could.

Hiroki stood still. He stared straight into nothing, mouth agape. Did he just seriously say that? No one had ever dared talk back to 'Kamijou the Devil'. It was audacious, disrespectful, unthought-of. Endearing. Endearing? Why the hell would I even think that? He's a damn student, a disrespectful youth. But you like his rare rebellion against you. No. No…no. I was just caught off guard, that's why I'm thinking weird things…yeah. I just need to get home.

Not even the comforts of being home and reading Akihiko's newest best-seller could get Misaki's outburst out of Hiroki's mind. He felt like he should be embarrassed; humiliated by being called out in such a way by a student. Why was he not feeling angry? Why wasn't he thinking up a way to punish the brat? Why am I so turned on? The brunette immediately blushed a rainbow of red after realizing what he had just thought. What? Turned on? No way. I'm not…I can't be?...All he did was yell at me. It was uncalled for, obnoxious. But so beautiful and passionate. Agh, what the hell is my problem! This is stupid, I'm being stupid!

Hiroki's mixed thoughts caused him to unconsciously throw the book he was reading at a wall, breaking the spine and ripping a couple pages. Damn it. He walked over to the mutilated heap of paper. This was the first time he had ever ruined a book. He always relied on some unlucky idiot's head as a bounce board…which is what got Misaki so mad. Oh, the irony of this situation was almost funny. Hiroki slightly smiled at the memory of how heated Misaki's eyes were as he yelled at the professor in the name of what he thought was justice. How his voice took on a raspier edge as it raised to prove a point. The nerve he had was almost delicious. Something new to this twenty eight year old man who relied on his students' fear of him for most of his pride as an educator. He wanted to experience more of that unafraid fire. But I can't. I won't. Oh God. This is so ridiculous of me. All he did was shout at me. But no one has ever—Calm the hell down, Hiroki! You have more important things to worry about. Like, the book. Yeah. Must fix the book.