A/N: hi, Bailey here. Look! i found the next chapter yay. can i just say: thanks for sticking with me and favoriting/commenting on my story. You guys are the best. So, no lemon yet, our lovers have yet to reach that just yet, but...maybe in three days? I guess we'll see, that's all i'm going to say on the matter.
Usami didn't mean to fall for the kid, it just kind of...happened. And when Akihiko falls for someone, he falls rather hard.
"Misaki" his voice is deep, filling the large condo with the fullness of it.
"Yes Usagi-san?" The brunette walks through the door, his bag slung half-hazardly over his shoulder.
"Geez I just got home, can't you wait or something?" Misaki keeps his eyes cast downwards as he kicks off his shoes, pushing past the author who towers in the foyer.
"I'm keeping you free of charge, the least you could do is prepare dinner on time." Usami scoffs under his breath, not expecting the other to hear the snide comment. He's not trying to be rude, he's just doing his best to suppress feelings that are threatening to overcome him. Usami has gone through this once with Takahiro, he can't do the one-sided love thing again, it would crush him.
"If you're so hungry, learn to cook for yourself. I'm not your maid." Misaki's voice is cross as he throws his bag unceremoniously onto the couch next to the large plush bear.
"Suzuki-san isn't fond of having things thrown at her."
"And I'm not fond of you, but we must live with things we don't like sometimes." 'For Takahiro' Misaki adds in his head, ignoring the hurt look on his hosts face.
Silence falls as Misaki busies himself with dinner preparations, the clanking of dishes and pots and pans being the only thing to penetrate the crushing emptiness that infiltrates the kitchen.
"Dinner." Misaki says with a hint of distaste hanging off his words, resorting to limited-syllable responses again.
They eat the simple food in dead quiet, doing their best to chew silently lest they add to the tension with annoying sounds.
"Are your grades improving with my help or are you still remaining an idiot with D's?"
"I can't bring up my grades in a day you know."
"Well, they need to be up before Takahiro returns, I can't return you to him just as stupid as when you arrived."
"You're not my mother, I'm doing my best and Takahiro knows that."
"Well maybe your mother needed to instill some better virtues so that you'd have better study techniques and could therefore be smarter."
Misaki's hands slam onto the table, rattling dishes and utensils, his green eyes smoldering with anger. The boy's small frame is shaking, the mere subject of his mother touchy at best.
"Misaki..." Usami starts but Misaki is already halfway to the door, not even bothering to lace up his shoes as he stalks outside, slamming the door behind him.
"Dammit." Usami curses, falling back into his seat with a slight huff. Misaki is a brilliant cook, their meals together is one of Usami's favourite parts of the day. Now he's gone and screwed this up too.
"Shut up Suzuki-san" he grumbles, rolling his eyes at the complacent bear that, by the way it's situated in the seat, appears to be staring at him judgmentally.
"Stupid Usagi-san." Misaki mutters, his hands thrust deep into the warm confines of his jacket pockets. The old grey jacket used to be Takahiro's but the older male had hit a growth spurt so the thick coat had fallen to the significantly smaller Misaki when rough times had rendered them almost broke.
The little brunette passes a strange store he's never seen before and cocks his head to look in the window. That's when he realizes he has no earthly idea where he is. Even though he's used to walking everywhere, he'd never ventured past school which was only about fifteen minutes away. He's had to have been walking for at least an hour now.
Back at the house, Akihiko busies himself by sitting down on the couch to look over one of his manuscripts. A cigarette smolders between his fingers, forgotten until hot ash falls on the floor with a soft ssss sound. Suzuki sits by him, his dark eyes gazing ahead, mirroring the dull lavender of the writers blank stare. For the umpteenth time he glances at the expensive gold watch on his wrist, the second hand seeming to drag slowly around the clock face just to taunt him.
"Excuse me." Misaki's voice is frantic as he bothers yet another person on the busy sidewalk. "Do you know where the author Akihiko Usami lives? I'm trying to get back there."
In all his usual brilliance, Misaki had forgotten to learn the address of his current residency thus rendering him helpless and left to ask like an idiot about the location of the Great Lord Usami.
Yet again he's brushed aside with a confused look like he's insane for inquiring about such a topic. The young woman, however, is kind enough to point him in a general direction before bounding off after her boyfriend, no doubt muttering about Misaki's odd request.
His sneakers pound against concrete as he takes off in the direction he was instructed, his heart racing and his breath coming fast. Usagi-san wouldn't look for him, he'd probably be glad the boy is gone. Takahiro wouldn't be around for a few more days and Misaki wouldn't be able to give him directions to find him should he ever find access to a phone; he'd end up starving, freezing, or dying before then.
Usami looks at his watch once more before deciding his course of action. Three hours had passed and dark was already beginning to engulf the sky. Misaki isn't back yet and Akihiko automatically assumes the worst. He grabs his keys off the counter and spins the key ring around his finger - a nervous habit of his - before bounding down to find his red sports car. Only pure luck and a bit of intuition sends him in the proper direction after Misaki.
Four hours and twenty minutes since he walked through the door, Misaki slumps down against the side of an old dilapidated brick building, defeated. The night air is cold, sending a chill through the worn jacket and his thin pants, and his legs hurt from sprinting around for a good hour. The boy hugs his knees to his chest and rests his forehead against them as he squeezes his green eyes shut, a single tear falling from the corner.
That one tear opens the floodgates for many more, and soon they're pouring down his face with reckless abandon, fogging up his vision and giving him a salty taste in his mouth.
Another car drives by but he pays it no mind, it's when the car backs up and screeches to a stop that he decides to take a look, in no state to fight off any wannabe kidnappers that might try to take him in. Instead he's greeted but a surprisingly comforting sight. The red paint glints in the silvery light of the moon, but it's the rushed footsteps that approach that catches his attention.
Akihiko Usami, the great author who cares about no one but himself and his bears, is sprinting towards Misaki, his face twisted with worry and fear.
"Misaki" he clears his throat, straightening out his dark overcoat as he comes to a stop at Misaki's feet.
The youth looks up and wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his own jacket, the whites of his eyes red and puffy from crying.
"Hasn't your brother ever told you not to stray too far from home? Honestly, you're helpless without me." He extends a hand, which Misaki hesitantly takes before standing to shaky legs.
"Come on. I almost left you out here, but Suzuki-san has taken a liking to you and forced me on a manhunt. Thank him when you get inside otherwise you'd be left out here in the cold all night."
Akihiko Usami isn't well versed in the art of conveying kindness, but Misaki just snorts his approval and hobbles towards the car on sore feet.
Misaki had managed to make it far enough to give them an hour ride home, and he's asleep in the passenger seat before they hit the fifteen minute mark. Usami has to unbuckle the boy from his spot and put a strong arm under the backs of his knees and his upper back to carry him up to the condo before placing him gingerly in bed. The author takes a minute, watching the peaceful sleep of the other before turning out the lights and going to bed himself.
Akihiko is so tired by the time he reaches his own room that he forgets to mark day three off his calendar.