Chapter Text
Misaki is close to giving up.
Not really- he would never forgive himself if he stopped trying after some measly F’s, but it’s getting to a point now where he’s left with few other options.
Staring down at the mock-test results from a week ago, Misaki feels a tinge of helplessness. The entrance exam for Mitsuhashi is in only 4 months, and he’s nowhere near the level he should be at if he wants any chance of getting in.
Misaki trudges himself homeward, dreading the pitying smile he’s come to expect from his brother after the last 3 attempts. At this point, he wonders why the University even bothers handing out these things, if only to give idiots like himself a stark reality check.
Well, Misaki thinks with more than a hint of self-deprecation, they clearly haven’t done a good enough job on that part.
—
Misaki likes to think he knows his brother, Takahiro, pretty well.
He knows his favorite foods, his taste in suits, the one and only spot he likes to leave his toothbrush, and the ridiculous spot on the couch he always leaves his jacket on after work.
What he doesn’t know- or rather, who he doesn’t know, is the strange man standing in the foyer of Misaki’s home.
Holding his brother.
By the waist.
In a pose strangely reminiscent of the romantic Latin dancing Misaki could swear he remembers seeing on the TV once in his childhood after his brother left it on a generic variety channel one night.
If his memory serves him right, Misaki might just be able to squint and see a rose peeking in-between the rows of smiling teeth on the stranger in his home.
Speaking of-
“Oh, Misaki!” Takahiro, still being held by the stranger in a position close to falling, greets the younger one as if absolutely nothing absurd is happening before his eyes.
The stranger, now aware of Misaki’s presence, turns his eyes coolly to meet the brunette’s own stunned gaze.
Misaki feels the need to suppress a shudder at the sudden inspection.
As if he is somehow an intruder in his own house.
Or on whatever the situation happening in front of him is.
The stranger, seemingly satisfied with his scan of Misaki’s face, turns his gaze back to the Patriarch still hanging in his arms.
“This is your little brother?”, the stranger asks, a hint of something like disbelief in the man’s voice.
Takahiro, finally righting himself from his precarious position and shrugging out of the other man’s hold, meets Misaki with a fond look before nodding to the mystery-man and gesturing between the two.
“Usami, this is Misaki. My brother.”
Turning now to face Misaki properly, Takahiro puts a hand on the stranger’s- no, Usami ’s shoulder.
“Misaki, this is my good friend, Akihiko Usami. It’s about time you two have met!”
The mentioned “Usami” lowers his gaze once more to meet Misaki’s. It’s strange, the latter man thinks, how a man of such caliber could be close friends with someone like Takahiro. The silver-haired figure looks like something straight out of a magazine; tailored vest and all. Sure, Takahiro was well put-together enough, but he has a look more suited to a polite homebody than the celebrity aura the other man, strange as he is, undoubtedly manages to exude.
Just as the brunette is about to comment on the abrupt stare-down the other man has once again thrown him into, Usami’s face contorts into a cool smirk.
“I can hardly see the resemblance.”
—
Somehow, Usami Akihiko has agreed to become Misaki’s temporary tutor until the exam.
According to his brother, Mr. Akihiko has quite the credentials for the role.
Apparently, the man is an award-winning author and graduated Law School at the top of his class. At only 27 years old, he remains the youngest recipient of the Naomori award- whatever that is, and has written a modest yet praised collection of novels.
And now, Misaki is standing in front of the massive apartment building the man lives in.
Funny how that works.
Taking a moment to fill himself with needed courage, Misaki steps into the overly-luxurious apartment building and into the elevator to the highest floor.
—
At the apartment, Misaki diligently removes his shoes after letting himself in through the unlocked door. For someone so wealthy, you’d think he would’ve had the sense to buzz me in instead.
The penthouse apartment is spacious, with stairs leading up to a mezzanine balcony where Misaki can see doors to multiple rooms.
Walking past the kitchenette at his right, Misaki approaches a seating area in the middle of the room; two green leather couches sit facing each other, with a wooden coffee table in-between.
On top of the table, lies a small paper note in feminine handwriting stuck to the top of a stack of identical novels credited to Akihiko Usami with a familiar cover.
“Didn’t I see this at the library?” Misaki wonders aloud. I guess he’s the one who wrote it.
Turning his attention to another stack of books beside the first pile, Misaki notices a different name on the spine. “Akikawa Yayoi”.
Why the pen name?
Turning the book over to see the cover, Misaki is met with a surprisingly flowery drawing of two men embracing each other. Curious, the man flips open the book to a random page and takes a look.
“Takahiro, his eyes lowered, laughed suddenly.”
Takahiro…?
“Akihiko slowly pressed his own lips to Takahiro's slightly-
…parted ones.”
…”Takahiro.”
What?
…
WHAT?
“WHAT THE HELL?” Misaki, panting with adrenaline after charging up the stupidly long stairway, bursts open the first door he sees which- thankfully- contains the man behind Misaki’s ire.
Un thankfully, however, Misaki suddenly feels as if he’s opened the gates to some toymaker’s emporium.
Lining the shelves, dressers, and all around the king-sized bed in the center, are dozens of various children’s toys and plushies. The outline of what appears to be a large stuffed bear lies next to the unconscious man in bed. Misaki watches as a slow-running toy-train set just beyond the foot of the bed makes its way around, perpetually in circles.
Misaki questions, distantly, how something so horrifically childish could be the master bedroom of a man 7 years his senior.
A man who, unsurprisingly, seems to have been jostled awake by Misaki’s righteous harping.
The man sluggishly sits himself up in bed, leveling Misaki with a glare that the younger man could only describe as a warning.
A warning Misaki does not take to heart.
“I saw the crap you wrote about my brother! Where do you get off writing such trashy fiction about your own friend? Push your weird fantasies onto someone else and leave my brother OUT of this, you creep!”
Usami rises from the bed suddenly, startling Misaki out of his rant. The older man approaches him like a predator, cautiously scaling the floor as he moves.
Misaki, in all his nervousness, stubbornly glues himself to his spot in the doorway.
If this is some intimidation tactic, he won’t be made a fool. Not with his brother’s dignity on the line.
Misaki hears a thump above him, Usami’s forearm planting itself on the wall beside them as the older man steadily closes the distance between himself and the shaking man in front of him.
Usami narrows his eyes at the younger man, squinting as if trying to make something out before evening his expression to say, “Oh. You’re the brat.”
Misaki feels something close to an urge for violence.
—
“Just so you’re aware,” Usami starts, placing his coffee on the table in front of him as he takes a seat on the leather couch across from Misaki, next to that damned bear from his bed.
“Suzuki-san”, he called it.
“My stories are in no way breaching any laws of privacy.” Usami, now fully dressed in a professional-looking suit, pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it. Courteous enough to blow smoke away from Misaki’s face.
“There’s a disclaimer on the back- says, “this is a work of fiction. Any likenesses or names of characters that resemble actual persons, are purely coincidental.”” Usami recites the disclaimer like he’s written it more than a dozen times.
He probably has, Misaki thinks, dimly.
“Besides, what Takahiro doesn’t know can’t hurt him. I’d never burden him with my desires.”
The surprising moment of honesty is quickly pushed away as Usami leans forward on his elbows, pinning Misaki with a look that the younger man can only assume means business.
Right, the tutoring.
“So, what are you aiming for?” Usami puts out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table before turning his gaze back to the younger man.
Misaki feels an unprecedented rush of sure confidence as he declares, “Mitsuhashi.”
“No.”
“Huh?”
Unprecedented.
Usami chortles in a condescending manner, pulling out a printed copy of Misaki’s recent test results.
“Mitsuhashi is far out of your league. These answers aren’t just incorrect, they show a complete lack of understanding the questions at all!” Usami reprimands, seeming almost impressed at the complete lack of ability in his soon-to-be student.
The harsh reality of Usami’s words almost makes it hard for Misaki to feel insulted.
Almost.
“Mitsuhashi is the only option I’m going with. It’s Mitsuhashi or nothing at all!” Misaki bristles at the look Usami is giving him. Isn’t he supposed to be helping him? He continues his declaration, “I have to get in. For my brother.”
“Takahiro? Why are you bringing him up?” Usami looks as if his curiosity has suddenly peaked, and Misaki finds it almost as infuriating as it is embarrassing.
The younger man blushes, his eyes turning to the floor.
“I’m sure you know- our parents died when I was very little.” An accident. Adults, shrouded under umbrellas and all wearing black. Takahiro, holding Misaki close.
“I’ll take care of him.”
“He had just been accepted into Mitsuhashi. It was his dream school. He declined the offer and started working to provide for me.”
Misaki raises his gaze from the floor to meet Usami’s with fresh determination.
“It was all because of me, that he missed out on the life he wanted. I’ll get in for him. I’ll make sure he knows all the good he’s done for me.”
Usami is up on his feet before Misaki can even register it. The older man meets Misaki at his side and plants a cool hand on his shoulder.
“If it’s for him, I’ll do it. I promise I will get you into Mitsuhashi.”
The man’s expression looks like something Misaki has never seen on him before. Like something younger, before the brunette's time.
Misaki feels a reluctant spark of hope.
—
Misaki hates to admit it, but Usami Akihiko is an excellent teacher.
It’s been a little over a week since their first encounter, and Misaki has already improved drastically.
“All C’s and B’s, this is a passing grade.” Usami shows off the test results to the younger man, sounding proud.
Of Misaki or himself, it’s anyone’s guess.
“I’m not as dumb as you think, see! I just needed to apply myself.” Misaki exclaims from his seat at Usami’s desk.
The pair have been using his office as an impromptu classroom ever since Usami began tutoring the younger man; the space proving to be just spacious enough to provide a working environment for them both.
“I can’t wait to see the smile on Takahiro’s face.” Usami fondly speaks to himself- a moment of sincerity that isn’t lost on the younger man.
Rather, misplaced.
“Do you really love my brother?” Misaki, turned around and resting his front on the back of his seat, nearly snaps at the older man across from him.
Usami, hardly taken aback by this sudden outburst, simply chuckles at the antics of the younger man.
“No need to worry, my love is entirely one-sided.”
Misaki raises a brow at this, slumping further into his impromptu arm-rest and meeting Usami with a suspicious look.
“You know he has a girlfriend… right?” the younger man continues his glare- almost pouting.
Usami leans back in his spot, seeming borderline amused by the younger man’s questions.
“That’s the great thing about being a friend. I’m happy just being close to him.”
Despite his cocky demeanor, Misaki could swear the man’s smile looks… almost sad.
The younger man wonders, absently, why Usami won’t just sweep in and steal Takahiro from his girlfriend, himself.
His mood only worsens at the thought that comes next- that maybe Usami is just that much of a gentleman.
Like a knight in shining armor, guarding his princess from harm and accepting no reward.
He can almost see it now- Usami’s princess in a pretty pink dress, tasseled cone-hat and all.
A dunce hat might be more appropriate.
—
Misaki really, really hates to admit it, but…
These grades are the best he’s done in a long time.
It’s been about a month-and-a-half of studying with Usami now, and these marks are nearly perfect.
The man scans over the recent mock-test results again, feeling a rush of pride at his achievement. A sudden urge comes over Misaki, compelling him to run home and call Usami to tell him the news.
Huh?
But since when did Usami’s opinion matter to him?
Shouldn’t I be telling my brother, first?
Stumbling in his stride, Misaki feels the need to grab on to something.
What’s with this giddy feeling?
Ahead, Misaki sees the sturdy figure of a local shop’s wooden panda standee. Good enough.
Why am I acting like some… school-girl, or something?
Misaki, now clinging to the motionless, flat panda, feels something close to nausea.
Butterflies.
A horrifying realization comes over the man.
A shameful, awful feeling.
Misaki suddenly feels as if all the civilians around him are staring, judging.
Knowing.
The friendly cartoon face of Misaki’s impromptu anchor suddenly looks extremely punch-able.
Like it’s mocking him.
“Dunce.”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”
What-?
Usami, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, comments on Misaki’s embarrassingly obvious ire directed at the motionless cut-out in front of him.
That the younger man is still clinging to.
Embarrassing.
Ahem- “What are you doing here?” Misaki straightens himself out, no pun intended, moving away from the antagonized panda and towards the older man.
“I’ve got a gift for your brother.” Usami raises a small gift bag in his hand, presenting the shiny mystery to Misaki.
The brunette finds himself feeling dumb for a moment.
“…Don’t tell me, you forgot your own brother’s birthday?” Usami quirks the side of his mouth in that damned smirk, meeting Misaki with an almost patronizing look.
He despises it.
“I did not!” The younger man’s response is defensive, but true. Misaki had been planning on getting home early after the test and making Takahiro’s favorite dinner to celebrate.
What he had forgotten was a certain chosen guest for the event.
“What’s that, there?”
Speak of the devil.
Snapping his attention back to the older man in front of him, Misaki takes a moment to register the question before raising the paper in his hand, presenting his pride and joy.
Why am I so sheepish all of a sudden?
Usami’s eyes light up at the sight, the paper showing off all A’s and B’s.
The older man excitedly pulls Misaki in by the crook of his arm, ruffling the brunette’s hair with his free hand in a gesture that leaves the younger man internally reeling.
Usami seems to be glowing with excitement. The man happily praises Misaki; the arm previously laid behind the younger man’s neck- now shifted to a polite hand on the brunette’s shoulder.
The weight is somehow worse. And Misaki feels like he already knows what he’ll hear next-
“Good job!” Usami says,
And then,
“Takahiro will be so happy to see this.”
Ugh.
Isn’t that supposed to make me happy?
When did my own brother’s approval move to the sidelines?
When did Usami’s praise become so…
…desirable?
Misaki feels sick.
Definitely nausea.
—
It feels weird, letting Usami into his house.
Inappropriate.
Which is weird, considering how many times the man has likely been over while Misaki was out at school or work.
How long have they been friends, again?
The thought of a college-aged Usami hanging around the house with Takahiro, while Misaki was hardly halfway through high school himself, makes him feel…
…weird.
Like, FOMO, or something.
Stupid.
Misaki sets his jacket on the coat rack by the door, taking off and putting away his shoes before making his way into the kitchen to wash up and start cooking.
The man thinks, belatedly, he probably should’ve offered Usami something to drink first.
He’s never claimed to be an experienced host.
Usami, having left his assumed post at the foyer, listens in on the sounds of shifting bowls and pans; vegetables being chopped, meat sizzling on the stove, sauces and salads mixing and melding.
It’s all strangely domestic and unfamiliar.
Usami slinks into the kitchen and behind the source of the noise- distanced enough to respect the younger man’s space.
And the array of knives at said man’s exposal.
Misaki is calm and diligent in his work, despite the relatively short time frame left before the birthday-boy is meant to arrive.
He looks oddly in his element- something Usami has rarely bared witness to in his time getting to know him.
Taking his chances, Usami shifts closer to the cook; peering over the man’s shoulder to look at his work.
Apparently, too close.
Misaki feels the approaching warmth from behind him, and although he’s never one to be paranoid, the silence of the figure is concerning enough to make him turn around- temporarily pausing his actions.
As expected, Misaki is met with the face of one Usami Akihiko; bearing a decidedly un-guilty expression.
“That smells good. I never thought you could cook.” The older man praises in a manner that feels a little too backhanded for Misaki’s liking.
“What, doubting me again?” The brunette challenges the man in front of him; meeting his gaze with crossed arms and only a bit of false confidence.
After all, Misaki’s cooking abilities are one of the few things about him that is inarguably excellent.
A fact he’d flaunt a lot more if that didn’t come paired with some rather un-manlike assumptions.
Usami meets Misaki’s challenging glare with a gleeful expression of his own.
“I’d never.”
Given the attitude of the man speaking, the brunette finds it difficult to identify that remark as charming.
This struggle is only worsened by that damn smirk that never fails to make itself known on the older man’s face.
That one smirk that always seems laced with some sort of twisted admiration, or pride.
A smirk that Misaki is steadily fighting the urge not to wipe off with his fist.
Or worse.
Swiftly halting that train of thought, Misaki turns himself around to continue working on the dinner that seems to be taking far longer than it should.
Tilting his head to address the time-waster himself, Misaki all but barks a command at the man.
“Just- Make yourself useful. Takahiro should be here in only half an hour, and I’m going to need the table to be set.”
Surprisingly, Usami does as he’s told.
A true gentleman.
—
“Happy Birthday!”
Usami and Misaki- armed with confetti poppers, welcome the man of the hour in unison. If there’s anything the two can agree on, it’s their shared appreciation for the raven-haired man.
“Ah, thank you two! Gosh, this looks so nice.” Takahiro thanks the two men, beaming with joy at the warm welcome as well as the full meal ready on the table.
Usami, grabbing a small box from the shiny gift bag he’d shown off earlier, approaches Takahiro with a gentle smile.
“For you- open it.”
Meeting the other man’s gaze with a grateful smile, Takahiro does as told; opening the small gift box to reveal a luminous silver watch.
The raven-haired man’s expression widens in joy and disbelief as he’s entranced by the gift in his hands.
“This is- Usagi, you shouldn’t have!”
Usa g i?
“I know you’ve been eyeing this watch for a while now… I figured the start of your new year would be the perfect time to have a new accessory.” Usami places a hand on Takahiro’s shoulder, reassuring the man of his deservingness for this small luxury.
“Thank you, Usagi... this is wonderful.” Takahiro leans into the taller man, pulling him into a warm embrace.
“Anything, for you. I’m glad you like it.”
Usami leans in to the hug; Takahiro chuckling as the taller man breaks into a deviously innocent smile and drops nearly his entire body weight onto the raven-haired man supporting him- hanging onto Takahiro by his shoulders.
(“Rabbit”)…
…I can see it.
The sweet moment is cut short by a knock at the door.
Curious, Misaki turns to eye his brother; the patriarch oddly star-struck as he gently pulls himself from Usami’s embrace to let in this surprise guest.
Entering with a sweet but timid smile, is a woman nearly as tall as Takahiro himself.
Dressed in a modestly designed dress paired with heels, the woman has gorgeously cared-for dyed-red hair; curled in loose waves cascading down her shoulders.
The woman looks like something out of a magazine- decorated with an
unbelievably genuine smile to top it off.
Truthfully, Misaki had only ever seen the woman in pictures; her traditional nature forbidding her from meeting her lover’s family until the “time was right”.
A feeling close to dread comes over the man.
They couldn’t be… right?
Takahiro pulls the woman in for a hug, placing a gentle arm around her waist as he turns to face Usami and Misaki.
Why would I care, anyways?
The raven-haired man faces the two with a smile, beaming at some unspoken thing.
She seems nice, anyways.
“I guess now’s as good a time as any to break the good news, right?”
Why don’t I feel excited for him?
“Manami and I have decided”-
Why do I feel…?
-“to get married!”
…Pity?
Usami approaches the couple, kindly giving his congratulations to their agreed engagement.
Distanced.
I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but…
The three other partygoers turn their heads to look at Misaki- one painfully throbbing fist planted against the wall beside him.
When did I-?
“Misaki?”
When did I start-
“Saké!”
Confusion.
“We’re- we’re out of saké! To celebrate! I’ll go get some…”
Takahiro, as well as the other two guests, are all eyeing the brunette as he stumbles through his words.
“You’ve still got another year left until you can buy that legally, Misaki.” Takahiro, thankfully finding some humor in the situation, playfully admonishes the man.
“I’ll bring Usami, it’s fine!” Misaki grabs the older man by the hand, “See, come with me. See you guys in a bit!”
When did I start caring about him?
—
Misaki can’t seem to catch a break.
It’s starting to feel like a running trend, recently.
Slumped against a concrete fence, Misaki takes a moment to catch his breath before meeting the gaze of his impromptu chaperone.
A man who looks far too stoic for someone who definitely just got their heart broken.
It’s fucking cruel.
Usami has done nothing but be kind, generous, and thoughtful for years.
Anyone could see how he felt.
Why would Takahiro do this to him?
In front of his new Fiancé, and me?
How could he not know?
“It’s not fair!”
Usami’s expression stays unmoving at Misaki’s outburst.
Stoic.
Why?
Why isn’t he crying?
Angry, sad, conflicted- anything?
Nothing.
Not a twitch of his mouth, or a moist sheen in his eyes.
And something about that expression- or lack-there-of, it just…
Breaks Misaki.
The man can hardly see a thing; his eyes becoming blurry and unfocused.
He feels a warmth, trickling down his cheek.
And then another.
And before he knows it, he’s sobbing.
God, I hate this.
He can’t bear to look at the man above him.
Can’t bear to see his vacant expression any longer.
“Misaki…”
God, that voice.
“Talk to me.”
Even now, why?
“Misaki.”
Why do I keep feeling like this?
Usami reaches out a hand, grabbing Misaki by the arm and pulling him up from his spot on the ground.
I can’t even look at him.
A sigh can be heard from above the brunette,
I can’t believe myself-
and suddenly, warmth.
A distinct smell of cigarettes and cologne fills Misaki's senses.
Everything, even time itself, seems to pause.
Even the tears; now drying on the younger man’s cheeks.
A content huff is felt on his scalp.
“You stopped.”
Raising his head from its spot on the taller man’s chest, Misaki takes a moment to meet the man’s blueish gaze.
Usami’s expression seems to finally have changed- into that god-awful smirk, of all things..
That cocky yet disgustingly sincere expression that always fills the brunette with an urge to wipe it off with his fist,
or worse-
…
He kisses him.
Misaki kisses him, and he has no idea why or what came over him, but…
It feels so nice.
Truth be told, the man isn’t a complete virgin or anything like that. He’s had his fair share of kisses from high school girlfriends or meaningless dares, some ventures even moving farther from what could be considered “innocent”.
But this…
This is just…
…so much better.
And it’s soft, and it’s innocent, and it’s brief, and it’s blinding, and-
-and Usami pulls away.
Shit. I never even asked him- and what would I even have said? And why did I even do that? God, what-
“Misaki.”
Teary-eyed, the brunette raises his head to meet the taller man’s face, bracing himself for the worst.
“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t know why I…”
Misaki pauses at the expression on Usami’s face.
Something soft, and… oddly fitting of the man.
Misaki is pulled into a second embrace, stronger than before.
“Don’t apologize.”
Oh?
Usami’s face is buried in Misaki’s shoulder- arching the taller man’s back in an awkward angle.
The younger man feels a slight wave of guilt as his thoughts are brought back to the issue at hand.
Right.
“…It’s okay if you’re sad. You’re allowed to cry, you know…”
Misaki’s genuine attempt at comfort is met with a dryly amused chuckle from the older man. He’s about to be offended, when he feels a few stand-alone droplets falling onto his shoulder.
“I haven’t cried in front of anyone since I was a babe, you know.”
The arms wrapped around him grow tighter.
“You’re the only person I would allow to see me like this.”
Oh.
It’s okay.
You’re okay.
This…
…this is okay.
—
As fate would have it, Misaki soon became in need of a place to stay.
Takahiro had been transferred just a city over by his work; too far for Misaki to follow if he wanted to make good on his promise of getting into and attending Mitsuhashi.
And wouldn’t you know it, a good friend of Takahiro’s was more than willing to house the brunette.
—
Misaki, after all his hard work, has officially been accepted into Mitsuhashi!
Well, technically, he’s been waitlisted, but that wouldn’t be such a glaring annoyance had Usagi not been dimming his mood with the reminder for the past week since Misaki got the letter.
When did I start calling him Usagi, again?
A habit picked up from his brother, likely.
Probably best not to think about that.
On the brighter side of things, the man is currently getting himself ready for the big fancy entrance ceremony at his new school.
(Apparently, open for wait-listers as well!)
Grabbing his tie off the green-leather couch, Misaki gets to work neatly tying the thing to his best ability.
“ Sigh. ”
Oh. Right.
“Don’t tell me you’re going out with a knot like that?” Usami speaks as if he’s had years of training in fashion, or suit-etiquette, or something.
Wouldn’t be surprising.
The older man practically spawns behind Misaki, taking it upon himself to correct the supposed hack-job of a knot.
“Not everyone lives in suits, like you.” The brunette half-heartedly glares back at Usami, his attempt at seriousness thwarted by the tickling sensation of Usami’s silver-dyed side-swept hair; not yet held back by his usual styling gel.
Arrogant.
A chuckle can be heard behind the brunette, Usami’s breath tickling the man’s scalp.
Don’t think about it.
“It wouldn’t hurt for you to learn some etiquette, though.”
Prick.
The older man’s cold hands- once at Misaki’s neckline, tread down the man’s shoulders as Usami leans his head over one side; looking down at something in disapproval.
“Your buttons, too? They’re all uneven at the bottom…” a pause, as Usami’s expression contorts into one of devious intent.
“Oh well, guess you’ll have to start over again!” The man swiftly grabs Misaki by the waist, trailing a hand upwards to reach the top button of his shirt-
“Hey- hey now! I can do that myself, thank you!” the brunette jumps out of Usami’s hold, spinning himself around to face him while clutching the buttons of his shirt as the man snickers.
“Oh-ho, a show, then? Misaki, how scandalous of you…”
Ugh!
The younger man flushes in embarrassment before turning back around and hurriedly fixing his buttons- correctly this time.
Just as he’s finished, Misaki feels a warmth around him as the older man hugs him from behind, resting his unshaved chin on the brunette’s shoulder.
“Will you be back soon?”
Maybe “Inu” would’ve been a better choice of nickname…
“Usagi…”-
“Mm?” the older man grumbles, purposefully low into Misaki’s ear.
God, you asshole.
“I’ll be sure to take as long as possible.”
I’ll see you soon, I guess.