A/N: Yes, my exams are over! *dances* Now I'm going to upload most of my fics, and these drabbles are the in-betweens i.e., when I'm writing another fic, you get a drabble to make up for not writing the new chapter sooner!

If you're expecting Akihiko OR Misaki bashing in here, please press the back button (read: get the hell out). I'm a diehard Romanticist in every sense of the word.

If you're one too, read on :D.

Written because Akihiko gets a lot of flak for a LOT of things, some of it a bit unjustified considering how I see his family and surroundings warped him. In my eyes, he's a lonely person who's always been surrounded by people who've had love and attention showered on them- case in point, Hiroki and Takahiro both, and all he wanted was a bit of that love. I don't really like Haruhiko, mainly because I believe that as much as he got shit thrown at him, he had no right to take it out on his kid brother.

Some of my work may contain Akihiko/Hiroki (because I ship the Junjou ShipThatMightHaveBeen, lol), feel free to skip it if you prefer Romantica /loves/


Akihiko watches Misaki sleep, his wild hair tousled even more, sweat-drenched and spread out on the pillow. He looks like a forest sprite, even without those dear green eyes peeking out at him from underneath dark brown lashes, enchanting and lovely simply because they are Misaki's. His little lover shivers, and he carefully places the blanket over those lithe arms, which had wrapped around him in ecstacy but a few minutes ago, and slips underneath the covers with him.

"'sagi-san?" Shit, he woke him up. "Yes?"

"Warm," he mutters, and snuggles into Akihiko's chest. The blond freezes- contradictorily, Misaki is like a living flame against him, warming his body and mind and heart. Akihiko has never been willingly snuggled with before- it's always him- clinging to Tanaka as he worked in the house, clinging to Hiroki as the other boy slept, clinging to Takahiro, to Misaki...

Misaki wants to snuggle with him.

"It's you who's warm," he mumbles into soft brown locks, before pulling Misaki closer. His love blinks up at him suspiciously, probably at the lack of further molestation. Akihiko chuckles softly and ruffles the sticky hair.

You are my refuge. You are my flame.

"Sleep- you'll need it, you've got a party to attend tomorrow," Misaki scolds half-heartedly, a blush on his cheeks. Just like a wife would.

My sort-of wife. The love of my life.

"It's in the evening, though. We should have just stayed at home." Ah, now he was irritated. "You need the rest! I won't have you keeling out in the middle of it! And it's not like I wanted to c-come with you. Well, I mean, with you, yeah, but here and..." Misaki trails off awkwardly, looking down.

Akihiko's heart skips a beat when he surveys the boy in his arms. Every word he says- from those ridiculous accusations to his not-confessions- every breathe he takes, every single move he makes make him fall in love with him more.

"Then it's better I didn't stay at the condo- it wouldn't be home without you."

Misaki's face blooms red, like the blossom he was named for. Like those faint traces of blush in the yellow-orange roses which stand elegantly in the vase on the bedside table.

"home... san 'ther."


"It wouldn't be home without Usagi-san either," he whispers into Akihiko's chest, before he ducks into the pillow, away from Akihiko's astonished eyes. He blinks, twice, thrice, and discovers his eyes are wet.

You are my home. You are my hearth.

And mine. You are mine, Misaki. And...

"I was yours even before I knew it," he whispers into his hair.

But Misaki's already asleep.

End drabble one.