The Victim's Stories
Yosuke

AN: Final installment, a little lengthy. This chapter contains some language and sexual situations, though if you watch/read JR, I doubt that'll be much of a problem for you.

[EPILOGUE]

Things didn't fall back into place quite as easily as I had hoped. Misaki wasn't allowed out of my sight, not even to get the newspaper out of the hallway. I'd made the mistake once of letting him go somewhere without the supervision I knew he needed, and I wasn't about to let it happen again. He'd been hurt so badly the last time, hell knew I would do everything I could to keep it from recurring, even if SDI was no longer an issue.

Misaki seemed to find my protection somewhat... overbearing, if you will. Maybe even a little suffocating. But he would thank me later when he didn't wind up on the sidewalk again, stuffed with mind-altering substances and completely checked out.

Memories of that night flooded me constantly, and often I found myself seeking out my young lover just to establish that he was still safe and sound in the condo. I could still remember waiting in the living room, checking the clock and surprised to find it twenty minutes passed since Misaki had left to fetch me some cigarettes. I'd tried to think nothing of it, but after another ten, I decided it couldn't hurt to go look for him.

When I did find him, my heart had just about come to a stop in my chest. He'd been lying on the sidewalk, motionless and pale. Once I reached him, I felt the air return to my lungs when I saw his eyes open and his chest moving with each breath. But it didn't look right to me; his eyes were glassy, distant, and nearly all black from dilation. I had pulled him up to my chest, touching his skin to find it cold and no response in his limbs. Words slipped from his mouth at a slow, drunken pace, incomprehensible and far too unlike Misaki to let me feel at ease. When I felt his breathing begin to struggle, the realization hit me like a brick wall: Misaki had been drugged. Heavily.

I remember being separated from reality for most of the time I was in the ambulance, watching poor Misaki's face stare in helpless wonderment at the things around him. I kept a hold of his hand, to at least physically establish to him that I was still there and very real, not just some drugged-out hallucination. But he was taken away from me at the hospital while his blood was drawn and his stomach was pumped. When I was allowed to return, I didn't let go of his hand. I wouldn't, not for the world. My heart did all kinds of acrobatics in my chest as I watched him sleep, scared out of my wits that I had come so close to losing him. Even if the drugs hadn't been fatal, what else could've happened while he was gone? Who had done this? Where had he been in order to be infected so?

What else had been done to him?

He could've been killed by his assailants, whoever they were. I could've lost Misaki forever. I couldn't bear that. I dreaded even thinking of such a possible future, but I did. It was all I thought of as I slipped into sleep at Misaki's bedside, aware that it could've just as well been his deathbed.

I told Misaki all of this at one point and he called me a "drama queen". Would it kill him to reciprocate the feelings just a little?

That was a silly thought, I knew. He did. All of the abuse he'd taken was to protect me and to stay by my side. Ikuko Sakurabi had wanted Misaki gone so I could work better, deeming him some sort of obstacle in my path to profit. Profit for SDI, anyway. Misaki had been put through so much just for me, and there weren't enough words for me to express my love and appreciation, even if I am a novelist and I derive a living from expressing words of love.

Sakurabi Digital Industries was cut from Marukawa Publishing, and within a month we'd switched over to a new resource provider, a small but honest company based in Funabashi.

Which reminds me, I should take Misaki there sometime. Funabashi is a nice place. I can buy him something there. I should buy him a boat. I don't think they sell boats in Funabashi, but I should still get him one.

We managed to discuss a few of the things that had happened without sparking any kind of torment in Misaki over the memories (If I ever came even close to using the word "raped", his face lit up bright red and his voice dropped a few decibels. He was still far too humiliated over the whole thing, which I understood completely). I'd asked about the award party and he barely thought it over, though I wasn't sure if that was a forced response or if he actually just didn't care as much as I thought he did.

"They made fun of our age difference," he'd said nonchalantly. "Got called 'gold digger', too. Sakurabi was the first one to call me a prostitute. Indirectly, at least. I was asked to leave by some old, bald guy-"

'Mafuyu Yoijima, Director of Private Events for The Blue Sora Association, the one who gave me my award,' I had thought bitterly, making a mental note to send that man a rather nasty email and the cheap plaque I'd been given back to him.

"-and then the coat check girl wouldn't return my coat. I'm guessing Sakurabi paid her off."

'Miyuki whatserface. She slobbered all over me when I gave her my coat that night. To think I even gave her a tip when I left.' Sometimes I'm thankful for having such a good memory. I plan to contact the hotel the party had been hosted at so I can have her fired.

"I walked home. I was just too embarrassed to talk to you. I was certain you'd be upset, or embarrassed as well. Everyone at the party thought you needed a male whore around to keep things interesting for you. They thought you were 'confused'."

I don't know why I treated it as if Misaki had been the one to make the accusation, but I did screw him right there in the living room and then asked him afterwards if I seemed "confused". I don't really remember his response. I think he threw a potted plant at me. That would explain this big bruise on my temple.

He went on later to explain how he'd shared a cab ride with Ikuko Sakurabi after apparently having been stalked at his college. I was none too pleased to hear about this, and even more upset that he'd hidden it from me. When I asked why, it was a typical Misaki answer: "I didn't want to worry you."

I screwed him again. That couch was seeing more action than my own bedroom as of late.

After hearing each detail, each sentence spoken, every action that transpired between my lover and that blonde witch in the cab, he went on to explain the encounter in the prison when Sakurabi had retrieved him, much to his discontent. He told me all about how angry he'd been, how much he despised being anywhere near her, hearing her talk, watching her smile in contempt at him, knowing he'd lost to her because she held so many cards. She had looked at him knowing he'd been helpless at her feet and the feet of those men.

I screwed him again, but that time because he was on the brink of tears and I thought it would make him feel better. It may or may not have worked, but he did crawl away from me afterwards and hid in the bathroom, refusing to come out until I stopped with the "surprise sodomy". You'd think after the first two times, it wouldn't be a surprise anymore.

If anything useful came from my end, though, it was that I was able to fill in Misaki with more details about the night of the rape. He'd listened cautiously enough to that as I told him that I'd deduced it had taken place at the hotel my award party had been held at.

Misaki had popped out from behind the bathroom door, clearly quite interested. "How can you tell that?"

"Because," I had said, shoving the door completely open, watching him gasp adorably and try to hide his nudity with a towel. "When you told me the room smelled clean like fresh laundry, I immediately assumed it was an upscale hotel. Nice places like that usually make sure their sheets are changed almost every hour. I took another look through the photos and the furnishings looked familiar. When I called the hotel to ask about any suspicious activity from that night, they filled in the rest for me. You were taken to that hotel, five floors up from where the party was held."

Misaki seemed to forget all about his embarrassment then as he stared at me in shock. Eventually his face turned red for a completely different reason.

"Right there at the same hotel... They didn't even have the decency to make it happen somewhere unrelated. It's like they were trying to spit on you, too." Misaki hid his face, disappearing around a corner in the bathroom and sinking to his knees against a wall. "Usagi, I'm so sorry..."

I think you can guess what I did next. He didn't mind so much that time.

Misaki has always been a lot more fragile than he lets on, and it was easy to see that in those moments, watching his face as he had to relive the memories of those awful events. I hated seeing him in such pain, and despite how normally he looks so unimaginably adorable when he blushes, those times it was just heart-wrenching watching his face go red when he had to think about the humiliating positions he'd been displayed in with the pictures I'd received in the mail from his bodily violations. Aside from the thorough discussion we had about everything that had happened to him, to put together any remaining pieces so we were both on the same page about it all, Misaki tried to never bring it up again. He carried on like nothing had happened, but I could see in his moments of solitude, when his back was turned or if I watched him from across the room, every now and then I could see his shoulders stiffen and his fingers knot at the hem of his shirt.

He was even just a bit more timid during sex, more so than usual. It wasn't like there was any psychological damage that made him afraid that I would hurt him or drug him or take insulting pictures of him, but he very much did not like having me look at him at all. He hated when I took his clothes off, or if I tried to compliment his body. He still felt dirtied by those insolent rapists, like I would catch some disease if I touched him, or I would somehow see the handprints on his body or the semen stains on his skin.

Now don't get me wrong; Misaki was taken to the hospital the day after I pulled him away from Ikuko Sakurabi, and he was examined for any bodily injuries and tested for STDs that his earlier blood-work from the night I found him loaded with MDMA might not have found quite yet. I used the time waiting for the test results to keep my touches light, to give him space to recuperate and try and get himself back in order (aside from the time in my car after I'd saved him. I felt shame in doing so, but I'd used a condom, though every part of me told me if Misaki was infected with something, I deserved to be struck with it just as much). Thankfully, the tests came back negative, which was a huge relief for myself and Misaki, and a big break for that bitch Sakurabi. If Misaki had been infected with anything, that lawsuit would have tripled.

Oh, had I forgotten to mention? After Isaka cut ties with Sakurabi Digital Industries, I filed a lawsuit against her company for violating the contracts, and then another lawsuit against her personally for attacking my dependent (Against Misaki's will, I had added him to my insurance, plus he was also a benefactor of my life insurance and living will plus I am his landlord and therefore in charge of his living conditions plus plus he is technically considered my student. The only thing that would make him legally closer to me is if I adopted him or married him, and one of those things isn't legal. The other would just make things weird.)

The lawyers are still filing paperwork for that trial, and with all the evidence I've provided, I don't see Sakurabi fairing too well on her end. It'll be weeks before a court date is set, so for now I'm letting my lawyer answer all the questions. I have to focus on Misaki.

It's taken a while, but my Misaki has finally readjusted to his normal life. We've not heard a word from anyone connected to the crimes committed against him, and after a few short sessions with a psychiatrist, Misaki has pretty much accepted what's happened and moved on. If anything, he's trying to help me get over it. I suppose I'm still having trouble digesting the idea that someone else had tasted what is mine. Misaki is my personal brand of alcohol, and no one gets a sip. If you even so much as touch the bottle, you pay dearly.

Don't believe me? Ask the blonde bitch signing the subpoena.

Takahiro had heard of Misaki's admittance into the hospital, though that was some while after. I managed to cover for my love and tell his brother a few small lies, such as, "He had an allergic reaction to some foreign vodka I let him try. Now that we know this, Misaki will never drink again."

Takahiro continued to question me as I dodged books being thrown at me.

"Why didn't anyone tell me sooner? My little brother was in the hospital and I couldn't be bothered about it? If anything had happened to Misaki, I don't know what I would do..."

"I am ashamed, Takahiro. There is no excuse for not informing you about this." Misaki could doubt me all he wanted, but I was nothing but sincere; aside from a few white lies, Takahiro always received my utmost honesty. It was all I could ever give to him. "Misaki was embarrassed, though. And he didn't want to worry you. He knows you're busy with work and didn't want to disrupt you over a simple allergic reaction."

"That's not good enough, Usagi!" Takahiro was yelling? That was new, and very uncomfortable. "If you or Misaki are ever in the hospital, I want to be the first to know! You can't leave me in the dark about this! This is serious! If I lose Misaki..." His voiced died off, and I could genuinely feel how upset he was. My heart clenched in my chest at the thought of Takahiro crying, and I came to realize how important it really was for him to know about Misaki's condition at all times. The last time Takahiro had been told about family members in the hospital... Well, I suppose that didn't turn out so well.

Misaki seemed to have heard Takahiro's yelling from over the line and had stopped his spiteful assault to make me stop talking. His face was drawn in worry and his cheeks were tinted in embarrassment. He also looked to be on the brink of tears and I was suddenly overwhelmed with the idea of both of the Takahashi boys I loved crying. I don't think I'd have been able to handle it.

Misaki instead took the receiver from me and started trying to smooth things over with his brother, who yelled at him in that fatherly way I always adored of Takahiro. I think Misaki did cry a little, but if anything, they were likely tears of relief, happy to know that he had a brother who loved him and had been worried sick.

A month later, Misaki had a second appointment with a doctor to re-check, just one more time, for any after effects from the molestation. From what I knew, some STDs took longer to surface than others. Once we received the test results, Misaki started to loosen up a bit. Thankfully, everything was still clear.

I was so relieved to see everything straightening itself up for my poor Misaki. He'd been through so much and he deserved a break.

And that's what I'm giving him now. I told him, for a full week, we can do anything that he wants, whatever he can think of. So far, he's only asked for Korean barbeque, a couple of movie rentals, and to have the dogtag I took from Sakurabi's barbaric assistant thrown away. I did him one better; I threw it in the fireplace, but he walked out of the room before it could properly melt. The tension was completely gone, though, and Misaki was back to his old self.

Or at least I hope. I've been thinking about it a lot, which is creating a huge distraction for me when I'm supposed to be working on a chapter teaser for my new resource company, Tamaking Clear Unlimited. They're a nice group, very lenient with my work schedule, though their products are almost as bad as SDI's. Marukawa intends to push them, though, and hopefully by the beginning of next year they'll have a better setup.

I'm worrying too much over Misaki still, I know, but I can't help it. He always hides what hurts him and tries so hard to never be an inconvenience to others. Is he still in pain? I can't tell. His mood in the bedroom is the same as ever, but he still has problems with me looking at him, even more so than before. He still feels dirtied, in a way, and no matter what I tell him, or what a psychiatrist will tell him, or what the bloody blood-work test results say, he's always going to feel those hateful hands on him.

I sigh and shut the computer's monitor off, too tired to think or attempt to work anymore. Tamaking will just have to wait.

As I stand to head to the kitchen, a timid knock at the door stops me. Misaki almost never interrupts me while I'm working. I wonder what he could possibly want.

I answer the door to find my adorable little Misaki there, fingers knotting into the front of his hoodie and eyes cast downward. A lovely blush is on his cheeks and I have to resist every urge to take him right there in the doorway.

"Yes?" I manage to get out after a moment. Misaki tries to peek up at me.

"Usagi... I was wondering, when you were done working, if you could come with me for a bit."

"I'm done now."

"I didn't mean to interrupt you-"

"No, I really am done." I step out of my office, shutting the door behind me. "I was having trouble concentrating so I decided to take a break. What do you need me for?"

His hesitancy and unwillingness to look me in the face alert me a little, and I have a sudden horrifying thought that he's just been threatened again by Sakurabi, though that loathsome woman is well out of our lives now.

"Misaki? What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," he replies after a moment, then takes my hand and starts pulling me down the hallway to my bedroom. Leading me over to the bed, he urges me to sit and then stands before me.

"Misaki?" I'm genuinely confused.

"Usagi," my lover speaks my name quietly, taking half a step back. "I gotta do this or I don't think I'll ever have the courage to again. I gotta have you look."

"Look at what, Misaki?"

He looks lost for a moment before his determination returns to his eyes and he begins to pull his hoodie over his head, leaving his hair messy and a little frizzy. Next he pulls his shirt off and tosses it to the floor with his hoodie. I'm not sure what to expect, but I can't say I'm disappointed. Within moments, Misaki's pants and underwear have joined the pile, and he is now completely naked. I never, in a million years, would've have expected my little Misaki to be so brave as to willingly take off his clothes and stand for me like this. Is he trying to put on a show? To seduce me? The thought burns in my blood and I'm quickly overtaken with the need to make love to him.

The only thing that stops me is the look of embarrassment on his face, like he's being forced to do this. His cheeks are still pink, and his hands are clutching at his own arms as if he's cold.

"Usagi... Do I seem dirty to you?"

Oh, anything but, my Misaki. You're the epitome of beauty to me, flawless and radiant and everything I've ever wanted. Can't I just make love to you all day? Can't I lock you away where only I can get to you? It'd make things so much easier, and you'd always be safe.

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose as if in agitation. I know it'll send little alarm bells to Misaki, which it does. When I next look up, he's staring at me in near-disbelief. He expects me to tackle him right there where he stands and force myself on him like I have a tendency to do from time to time. He doesn't expect that I would look annoyed. I'm not, but it's fun seeing his reaction.

"Misaki, I've told you a million times, I don't think you're dirty at all. What makes you believe, after all this time, that you're infected or something?"

"Not infected, Usagi," Misaki half-whispers, taking another step back, clearly upset and humiliated with having attempted what he thought was a good idea. "I know it's something you can't see, but I still feel... gross. I don't want you to look at me because of it. I know you don't think badly of me, but part of me feels like you look at me like I'm tainted. I just have to know, Usagi... Do you see me as ruined? Do you think of what they did whenever you see me?"

This was a suffocating insecurity I was well aware Misaki was suffering from, but in my hope that the situation would fix itself for him, and my foolish optimism that he was on the mend, I hadn't really seen how broken he still is. Had I just taken notice, perhaps he wouldn't be on the brink of tears right now.

The guilt I had felt before for not having been able to prevent Misaki's misadventures resurface full-force in this moment, and the only thing that keeps me from falling to his feet and begging for forgiveness is the whispered words he spoke to me after I'd pulled him from his assailant's grasp.

"Forgiving yourself is always harder than forgiving someone else. Apologize to you first, then once you accept your apology, you can try saying sorry to someone else."

Those words have resonated through my head on more than a few occasions since that day, and now they blare loudly, reaffirming myself and gathering my wits. My Misaki needs me for solace, not the other way around. He doesn't need me blubbering all over him like last time.

Sighing, I reach out an arm to him, a gesture for him to approach. He stares at it hesitantly for a long, breathless moment before tentatively stepping forward into my embrace. I hold him close, arms wrapped loosely about his waist and my head resting against his chest. I can tell by his slightest shuffling that he feels awkward being held like this with no clothes on, but I find no erogeneity in the moment, only the reassurance from Misaki's warm body that he is indeed alive, safe, and healthy.

"You're not allowed to forgive me yet, Misaki," I breathe out, and I can tell he's staring down at me, his hands that had previously been running through my hair still against my scalp.

"Forgive you for what?"

"You know what," I retort, moving my head to run the tip of my nose along that delicious line, the one that extends from the middle of his chest all the way down to his navel. "For letting you get hurt."

"Usagi, I already told you-"

"You can't forgive me yet," I cut him off, tilting my head to look up at him. "I don't care what you say, how many times you say you don't blame me. You're not allowed to say that."

Misaki is silent for a moment before he sighs and tilts his head to the side. "And why is that, Usagi?"

"You're not taking your own advice."

He straightens up, hands dropping to my shoulders. "My own advice?"

"Yes," I murmur, kissing the space just below his chest, running my hands up and down his sides, feeling the warmth, the smoothness of the skin and so grateful that it wasn't stolen from me. "You told me that day... to forgive myself first, then to forgive you. I obviously don't blame you for anything, but you insist that it was your fault. It seems our thought processes are alike, as I blame myself and you've declared there's nothing to forgive. Well, I took the first step." I lower my head, sinking my shoulders a bit so that I can kiss the uppermost part of his pelvis. Misaki groans, shifting from foot to foot in his own body's discomfort.

"Usagi..."

"I took the first step, Misaki. I forgave myself because you told me to, and I want to trust you. I forgive you, for whatever it is you believe you did to end up in your condition. Now it's your turn; forgive yourself."

When he doesn't respond, I pull him forward, further into me until he can't retain his balance and he's forced to bring his legs up to straddle me on either side of my lap. In his bashfulness, he chooses not to sit on me, so I run my fingertips lightly up and down the length of the back of his legs, up to his rear and to the backs of his knees. He fidgets against me, hands balancing himself on my shoulders.

"Usagi, I still feel too dirty, and I don't want you to see that. I'm worried one day when we're... like this..." He glances nervously around the bedroom. "I'm worried that you'll suddenly wake up and see how tainted I am."

With absolutely no warning after that statement, I push a finger inside him, hard and deep. I can tell it hurts him, but I know it's nothing he can't handle. A cry of surprise and discomfort breaks free from his throat as he stills, worried that moving will cause me to go in further.

"If I thought you were dirty, would I do something like this?" I wriggle the finger inside him, and he groans, fingernails scraping against my shoulders, snagging the fabric of my shirt. "If I thought you were dirty, would I do this?" My lips find one of his little pink nipples, sucking at it, biting very lightly, worrying the nub with just the tip of my tongue.

"Usagi, stop..."

"Hmm... Maybe I should. If you're as dirty as you say you are, I should stop." I push another finger in, smiling up at him and he can tell how unapologetic I am for the bit of pain I'm causing. He doesn't begrudge me, though, and tries his hardest to stay still against me. I glimpse down to see his manhood slowly coming to life, and I scoff. "Poor Misaki. Poor, poor Misaki. Always telling me to 'stop' but always wanting more. I could give you more, but then again... you're tainted, right? I should just stop."

When I withdraw my fingers from his body, he whimpers and looks back down at me.

"I'll just stop. Is that okay with you, dear Misaki?"

He looks stuck and the cutest glimpses of frustration and embarrassment flash across his face. The way his fingers rub at my shoulders tell me all I need to know, that he wants me to keep going, but I want to hear him say it.

"Misaki, if you want me to keep going, you'll have to tell me. But then again..." I smile at him, the way I do when I know he's losing an argument. "In order for you to want me to fuck you, you'd have to admit that you're not dirty. Which means that you acknowledge that the 'incident' isn't important anymore."

He still says nothing, so I lean back, supporting my weight on my arms behind me and stare at him expectantly, waiting for his submission. I can see every emotion playing across his eyes, his cheeks flushed in the most attractive way and his body trembling just so from my previous torment. I can note the defiance rising in him and chuckle.

"Well..." Misaki tries to make himself sound forceful. "No sex for me just as well means no sex for you. Double-edged sword, or something like that..." He starts to climb backwards off my lap, but my hand reaches out and just barely brushes his now-prominent length, slim and flushed. He shudders and stills, halfway off of the bed with one leg still angled up. With a few more soft strokes, I coax him back onto the bed, his lips parted to draw in ragged breaths and his eyes shut. "Usagi, please..."

"Please what, Misaki?" I run a feather-light fingertip up the underside of his manhood, watching him squirm in response. "First you say 'stop', then you say 'please'. Which is it? Stop or go? Red light or green light?"

"Why are you making this so difficult?" he whispers out before falling forward until his head rests against my shoulder. I don't even shift positions, choosing instead to continue my lazy strokes.

"Tell me, Misaki... Did they touch you like this?"

His head darts up immediately, staring at me in disbelief. "W...What?"

"Did they do this to you? Did it feel good like this?" I stroke him a little more firmly, but the action seems lost on him as he just stares in horror at what I've asked. "I can check the pictures, if you want. I kept copies, for the lawsuit. I'm sure I saw a few of them grabbing you like this. And you looked hard in them. It must've felt good, huh?"

As I continue to stroke and watch the horror in his eyes simmering, I can physically feel the erection in my hand slowly draining, diminishing. Any other time, this would have been insulting, but right now it's exactly what I expected. I'm forcing him to associate the horror of his rape with the pleasure I'm giving him now.

"So does this feel similar? Does what I'm doing to you now feel like when they touched you?"

"Usagi... How can you ask that?"

"It shouldn't be such a surprise." I keep working the length as if it were still rigid, but it does nothing to further effect him; he still lays limp in my hand. "After all, you believe you're so dirty, and you think I'm going to have some moment of enlightenment where I finally see you as such. So what's it matter if our touches are the same? Either way, you're still tainted and it's not going to get any better."

The shiver of a silenced sob disturbs his frame and he slowly tilts away from me. I finally release his manhood and cock my head to the side.

"Right, Misaki?"

"That's... That's horrible... Usagi... Why would you say such a thing?"

"You believe it. You believe you're dirty. And I've already told you I trust you. So that's that. You're tainted. I'll stop having sex with you, and you just keep on apologizing for that night. Does that work for you? I mean, I'll still want sex, but not from you. I guess I can start pursuing Takahiro again. Because if I had to choose between the two of you..."

Misaki's heart is on the floor, and my heart just about nearly joins his. I hate seeing him so upset. I hate that I'm causing him so much anguish, but it has to be done if I'm going to get it through his head that he's no different to me now than he was then.

"So go on. Start apologizing. And get dressed while you're at it. I can't stand looking at you. You just look so dirty to me."

Tears breach his eyes and he visibly shrinks in on himself, but through all the pain, I can see that he's finally starting to get it, and I breathe a little easier.

"I don't want that..." he whimpers, wiping a tear away. I want to touch him, want to hug him and lay him down and tell him I'm sorry, but I can't. Not until he tells me he's ready for that. Until he forgives himself. "I don't want you to let go of me, Usagi..." One hand reaches out to clutch at the front of my shirt weakly, like a child begging for attention. "I don't want you... to leave me..."

The words just about break my heart, the most disastrous images of me breaking it off with my Misaki haunting my mind.

"I want to apologize, but I can't. If I do... you'll leave me... right?" He finally glimpses back up at me, and his eyes are red with unshed tears, and the tears he's already cried glisten on his cheeks. The sight he makes is so pitiful, I can feel myself shaking with the effort of holding myself back from pulling him into my arms. But I have to stay resolute and with the best poker face I can manage, I mumble out a simple "Yeah".

Misaki sniffles and leans forward, resting his head against my chest and tangling his fingers into the fabric of my shirt. "You really don't think I'm dirty, Usagi?"

An air of relief the strength of gale-force winds passes through me, blissfully happy that he got the message. I raise a hand to stroke his hair, that soft hair I love to pet. "You're... perfect, Misaki. You're the epitome of my fantasies. There's not a thing about you I would change, no matter what your scars."

I guess that was what he needed to hear, the only thing, because after a few slowly-paced breaths and a handful of sobs, he lifts his head to stare into my eyes, the most perfect shade of green I can just lose myself in, and bites his lip as if in anticipation. After taking a moment, he lowers his eyes and barely breathes out, "I'm sorry."

The words shock me, and for a moment I'm frightened that perhaps his mind has taken a complete one-eighty, believing it would be in his, or our, best interest if we did separate.

"Misaki..."

"I'm not apologizing to you, Usagi." Misaki glimpses back up at me, a blush on his cheeks again. "It's not for you."

As the realization settles in me, I smile at him, and I can tell he wants to smile too, but he's still too awkward in his situation, naked on my lap with reasoning having been forced down his throat because he was finally aware of how stubborn he'd been. He's shy, though, and tries to hide his face from me, but I pull it up and kiss him. We end up on the sheets soon enough, his legs spread and my clothes tossed to the side. He cries a little more, but not from the sorrow he'd been feeling. His hands clutch at me the whole time, too, and every so often he wraps his arms around me, something he rarely does out of his own modesty. And a little while later, we're both spent, exhausted, and finally content.

"... Usagi?"

"Yeah?" I mumble out somewhere between the lazy kisses I'm planting on the back of his shoulders. He rests on his stomach with me laying alongside him, arched over him to continue praising his skin even after our lovemaking had ended. He just has that kind of effect on me.

"... I forgive myself. And I also forgive you."

I stop and look down at him. He doesn't look back.

"I've apologized to myself, and I've apologized to you. You've apologized to yourself, and also to me. I've forgiven my apology, as well as yours. 'Forgiving yourself is always harder than forgiving someone else.' Well... I've done both." He took a deep breath, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "I can finally breathe."

And now things have finally fallen into place.

(... I can't wait to see that bitch in court.)

Ze end.

AN: Sorry some of you waited so long for this epilogue. This isn't my favorite piece of work, and I'm not entirely comfortable writing from Akihiko's perspective, as I feel his inner-dialogue is a lot more complex and articulated, while still somewhat childish and sporadic. I tried to keep all of that in mind, but it's hard to write from the point-of-view of an award-winning novelist.

I also apologize for the angsty-feels in this one. It wasn't my aim at the start, but it just flowed out and I couldn't stop. I knew it would have a happy ending with lots of kissing and sex and typical yaoi-manga crap, but everyone would just have to ride through the rough patch first. Sorry!

Anyway, this concludes the whole story. I hope you all enjoyed it, and thank you to the people that waited out the chapters with me from the beginning. And thank you for the great reviews, I always really appreciate that. You guys are awesome!

Though I wouldn't mind a few more reviews... *u* Love the love!