Some people just don't understand the concept of a lie-in. Akihiko regrets to find that Misaki is one of them. No matter if it's a school day, weekend or a holiday; Misaki cannot stay in bed later than eleven without becoming massively fidgety. Akihiko compensates by keeping the student up as late at night as possible.

This morning is no different. Misaki squirms out of bed at half-eight, leaving Akihiko to doze away another two hours before realising his lover has left.

He grumbles his way out of bed, and lurks downstairs to find his breakfast and lunch all nicely parcelled up on the kitchen counter, with a note on how to heat them without torching the penthouse. He considers the food absently, lighting his one cigarette of the morning with a practised hand – Misaki has made him promise to cut down, on peril of not being allowed to sleep with him anymore.

Akihiko has no idea when he slipped into domesticity, but it's starting to creep him out just a bit.

Misaki's food is too good for any worrying thoughts to put Akihiko off eating though, so he eats his breakfast while he considers this fact.

At some point within the last two years, he's cut down seriously on his smoking, started waking up before noon, started eating regular meals. He's not the miserable lonely man he used to be.

All this change in two years. Two. That's a ridiculous number. Two out of thirty.

And it's all due to Misaki.

A pang hits Akihiko hard in the chest. Now he wants his Misaki, to hold him close and beg him never to leave. But of course, Misaki has already gone to university, and since it's a Thursday Akihiko is not allowed to go pick him up. They've battered out an agreement that lifts are only for Mondays, Fridays or days when it's raining.

He glances up at the window. Outside the sun is blazing in a clear blue sky, not a cloud in sight. He groans and stubs his half-smoked cigarette out. Screw this; he's going back to bed.

Misaki arrives home late that afternoon, juggling his rucksack, two shopping bags and a bouquet of roses. Whenever he goes past that damn flower shop he always ends up buying something; he's going to have to plan a new route home now.

Surprisingly, the penthouse is Usagi-less, despite the presence of his car keys lying carelessly on the table and his shoes abandoned where he left them the previous day. The student manages to make it to the kitchen without being pounced upon.

He pretends that's not a disappointment.

The groceries are stacked away quickly; the green peppers hidden in the very darkest depths of the vegetable crisper; and the roses are set up in a tall glass vase. Misaki is carrying them to the table when he notices one of his food parcels still wrapped on the countertop. This is very odd – Usagi-san normally goes out of his way to eat Misaki's food rather than anyone else's if it's already prepared. And anyway, it doesn't look like he's even left the penthouse.

"Stupid man," says Misaki, to ward off the fact he's worried. He's not sure who exactly he's addressing.

Usagi-san isn't in his office, or lying collapsed on the floor in any of the other rooms. The last room left is the bedroom, which is odd, as Usagi-san's strange tendencies never stretched to mid-afternoon naps.

But, when Misaki peers in, there's a lump under the bedclothes, huddled in the gloom.

"Usagi-san?" he calls, nervously picking his way across the floor when he gets no reply. "Usagi-san, are you ok?"

A hand protrudes from under the sheet and waves sluggishly. The lump squirms around slightly and then curls up again. Misaki sighs and dives in for a quick prod in what he expects is the rib region, springing back quickly afterwards. There's more squirming and Akihiko's dishevelled head appears from under the sheets.

"What?" he says, his voice quiet and his eyes dull. It's been a long time since Misaki saw his lover look quite so depressed, and he wonders what's gone wrong now.

"Are you ok?" he repeats, biting his lip. Has he done something wrong? Has something happened? Is Usagi-san sick? He can't think of anything else. "You didn't eat your lunch."

"I was sleeping." Akihiko sighs and rubs his eyes, frowning. "What time is it?"

"Er, five."

"I slept so long?" murmurs Usagi-san to himself, he flops back down to his pillow, and Misaki creeps closer again. He'll never admit liking to look at the man while he sleeps, but there is something very tempting about the innocent look his lover develops with his eyes shut. He doesn't quite manage it this time, with a vague frown creasing his features. There's not a single person that Misaki knows who can look quite as unhappy as Usagi-san.

Misaki sighs in worried misery, and the frown deepens. Usagi-san opens one eye and peers at the younger man.

"Are you all right?"

Misaki flops about for an answer, and then settles for a pathetic bleat of "You didn't eat your lunch." He has done something, he knows it. Usagi-san only looks that miserable when he's done something unkind.

And now there are tears in his eyes. Well, damn it.

Akihiko's frown softens and fades into exasperation. "Oh, come here." Misaki doesn't move. "Come on, Misaki." His voice drops to the low growl that never fails to make Misaki tremble. "Come on?" The deep purr galvanises his lover into action, but not the right one.

Misaki turns and flees.

Akihiko gets up and discovers the bathroom door locked, Misaki hidden inside. If he listens he can hear muffled sobs, and he makes a mental note to uninstall the lock. Preferably with a hammer.

"Misaki?" he calls through the door. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

There's no response. Akihiko sighs and slumps down against the wall. He hadn't expected this kind of reaction to not eating his lunch. Next time he sleeps past noon, he vows, he's setting his alarm clock.

"I'm an idiot," he murmurs to himself, setting his forehead on his knees and sighing. He really, truly is. Somewhere the thoughts about domesticity had turned to what he would do when Misaki left. Because he was going to leave at some point. Most of the time he acted as if he didn't want to be there anyway. The thought is like reopening a stab wound in his soul. He shudders and thumps his head back against the wall.

"Misaki?" he says again. He doesn't know if the boy is listening, or can even hear him, but there's something he needs to say, even if no one hears it. "I don't want you to go. Ever. Please." He sighs out a pained breath. "Because I love you. I love you so much, and if you go..."

The door clunks open, and all Akihiko can see is Misaki's feet through the gap.

"What will you do?" asks the boy in a strange voice. He's wiping tear tracks from his cheeks.

"I don't know," he says truthfully, looking up hopelessly at his lover's face. "Die, I think."

"You are an idiot," says Misaki fondly. He kneels down and presses a single brief kiss to Akihiko's cheek. "I just won't leave then."

They are the kings of un-communication, thinks Misaki, curling against Akihiko's side on the sofa. Both of them got their wires completely crossed beyond all belief. Of course, it did end in fantastic sex, but then most things do with Usagi-san.

"I blame you," he says firmly, looking up at the older man. "I can't leave you alone for a minute without you getting silly ideas."

Akihiko nuzzles into Misaki's hair like an overgrown puppy, smiling like an idiot. It shouldn't be cute, but Misaki's helpless under the onslaught anyway. "Oh, I know."

Akihiko's waiting by the university gates, eyeing the traffic in the rear view mirror when that train of thought finally finishes itself.

Somewhere along the line he has become happy. Somewhere along with the domesticity has come contentment. There's no need to smoke as much, because he's less stressed, but there's more reason to eat regularly because someone wants him healthy. He gets up earlier in the morning because he can stand to face the day now.

It's such an amazing thought all he can do is repeat in his head again and again and again. This is where he had meant to go with the idea yesterday, but he's been so used to being miserable and so used to loneliness being the status quo. And now it's just not. But the pattern is deeply ingrained and hard to get out of. Even now, he's slipping back down into it.

He considers his reflection in the window and notices the splash of colour on his jacket lapel. Of course. Now he know how to stop the downwards slide. The flower he unpins is baby pink, one of the roses that Misaki had bought the day before; softly scented with a comforting smell. Every time Misaki wants to give him a present he resorts to flowers.

Akihiko knows how his mind works. It makes silly connections and sidetracks itself with subplots and back-story. The only way to convince himself is to be firm.

Misaki gives him flowers. Misaki stays in his house and cooks his meals and sleeps in his bed. And, though sometimes it doesn't quite seem like that, Misaki loves him.

And it works.

He smiles brightly to himself and flops back against the driver's seat. He doesn't know what to do now except grin about this discovery. He wants someone to know, hell, everyone to know that something's changed.

The passenger door cracks open and Misaki drops into the seat. He looks as embarrassed as ever to be getting into the sports car, but Akihiko's so happy, he just smiles again and pulls away from the curb.

"You look cheerful," says Misaki in a vaguely accusing tone.

"I am," he says lightly. "I just am." They pull to a halt at the traffic lights, and he leans over to press a gentle kiss to the boy's mouth.

Misaki huffs and blushes, but doesn't protest. Akihiko smiles at him again, a soft expression that, to, Misaki, makes the whole world a more pleasant place.

"Thank you," Akihiko says.

Misaki stares out of the window for a few seconds and then grins too. Maybe he understands. Akihiko likes to think he does. "You're welcome."

And he leans back over and kisses Akihiko's cheek, and all is right with the world.

Notes: The Earth is a very familiar planet to us all. It is the only planet in the solar system that is habitable by human beings. It's realtive stability and lack of extremes is what allows life to flourish. Part of this stability is maintained by the Moon, which produces regular tides, and prevents the earth's climate descending into the extremes. It's a very, very necessary part of life.

Author's Note: And we are done. =D