Hiya. I hope you enjoy my story. It'll be a three-parter, so no lemons in this chapter but I promise they'll be coming, my lovelies. Also I apologise for any typos- I suck at editing. Please read, enjoy and review! See you at the bottom.

The Restless Rabbit

"Unnnff!"

Misaki's words were being muffled. Once again, Usagi had taken the liberty of shoving the teddy bear, 'Suzuki-kun', into his face. The older man's giant stuffed teddy was a favourite toy, something he enjoyed irritating Misaki with. Misaki, however, was less than impressed.

"Usagi-san!" he grumbled. "I'm trying to work."

"It looks like you're slacking off to me." Usagi stared down at Misaki's blank page. His expression was inscrutable to most, but Misaki could tell that he was criticising everything with his eyes.

"Hey, I only just started. You haven't given me time to study for days."

"Quit your whining."

Usagi picked up Suzuki-kun and sauntered off to his bedroom. Not one for working unless forced to, Usagi tended to become bored whenever Misaki had studying to do. He refused to work on his books. He refused to go out. He refused to help with the housework. This left him with napping in his room.

"Stupid Usagi-san… Why doesn't he just try to find some inspiration instead of annoying me?"

Misaki had been kidding himself. He didn't know any of the answers to this. He screwed up the piece of paper and closed the mercilessly thick textbook. His eyes wandered in the direction of Usagi's closed bedroom door. No. He wouldn't disturb him. Usagi was probably in a terrible mood. They had both been in terrible moods lately.

The phone rang. Misaki let out a small 'eek!' of surprise before picking it up. "Hello? Who is it?"

"Misaki-kun, hello!"

"Aikawa-san," he said, relieved. "What has Usa- Akihiko-san done this time?"

"Ah, actually, I need to speak to him right away. Could you put him on?"

Misaki cringed. "I can try."

It took some convincing to get the older man the distance from his bedroom to the telephone. Misaki shuffled off to the kitchenette, just within earshot of Usagi's conversation.
He watched as his lover's face kept the same expression. His narrow, dissatisfied eyes, the perpetual frowning mouth, the sweeping ash-coloured hair across his forehead— nothing moved, nothing changed. He nodded. He said 'Yes,' 'I understand' 'Now?' 'Are you sure?' 'I wouldn't want to leave Misaki behind. Aikawa-san, is there any way I can stay with him?'

Wait, what?

"U-Usagi-san!" Misaki called, but then he slapped a hand over his mouth. Stupid— don't interrupt his phonecall.

Usagi didn't budge. He didn't even glance in Misaki's direction. He reached into the cabinet which the telephone was on, and pulled out a pen and pad. This conversation was much more serious than usual. Misaki frowned with suspicion. Usagi never took his job seriously, and here he was, scribbling down Aikawa's words on a piece of paper.

Finally, he put the receiver down. Misaki sighed with relief. Now Usagi's conversation was over, he could find out what they were talking about. Just as Misaki went to speak to Usagi, the older man continued to look away from him. No eye contact. He trembled, and began to conjure up all sorts of possibilities in his head.

His new book didn't sell so well.

Aikawa has finally lost it; she must have shouted at him enough to make him listen.

One of the editors died?

Definitely not the last one.

"Usa-"

"Misaki," he said gravely. Instead of explaining himself, Usagi strode over to a pouting Misaki and planted his lips firmly on the younger man's mouth.

The kiss was urgent, rough. When he was finally able to break free, Misaki was furious.

"What was that for? Will you please tell me what's wrong?"

This was different. Usagi actually look upset. His eyes were piercing him with emotion, telling Misaki something silent but very important. He swept a hand through his ashy hair, appearing at a loss.

"Usagi-san!"

"Misaki…I have to go away for a while."

What?

"I'm sorry. Aikawa-san just told me. There's a book signing I have to go to. I've refused to do too many, and my American publishers are threatening to drop me if I don't attend."

This was serious, alright. Usagi refused to do signings or interviews almost every time, and it was never a problem until now.
Misaki scanned his lover's face, searching for any hint, anything all that might tell him that this was a lie. And then, he did something he always did. Something he hated.

"Ha… Hahaha!" he burst out. "It's fine, really. You just go to America. I'll be okay here. In fact, I bet I can get lots of studying done. I can watch whatever I want on TV, too. I'll be fine, promise. Your book signing is important, right?"

The stupid grin over his face gave him away instantly. But still, Misaki faked as best he could. He closed his eyes, showed his toothy smile and clapped Usagi on the back.

"I don't care at all!"

Of course, it was obvious he cared. Misaki was a terrible liar. Usagi's frown hardened. He grabbed Misaki's face and pulled it up to meet his. Once again, he forced a desperate kiss on him, deepening it so that Misaki could taste this afternoon's coffee on his tongue. The young man slackened under Usagi's expert force; just as he was about to drift away into the pleasure of it, Misaki roughly pulled away, pushing his hands into Usagi's solid chest.

"Stop doing that," he growled. "I know you feel guilty about leaving, but that doesn't give you an excuse to act like a pervert."

"I'm sorry."

"Now, if you have to go, go. I don't care. Just do your writing thing, and come back safely."

Misaki gave him one last look of stubborn loathing before going to sit back down at the table with his work. At least with Usagi gone, it would give him a chance to really get to grips with college. Studying economics was a tricky business, one that Usagi did not sympathise with.

Usagi sniffed, and returned to his bedroom, presumably to pack. The airport was close by, meaning that he'd be setting off soon. Misaki ignored the niggling feeling of loneliness in the back of his mind and put pen to paper.

I mustn't cause Usagi-san to worry.