A Disgusting Guy: Chapter 2

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A Disgusting Guy

It felt like a bad dream.

:-::-:

Kazuya lived in a small apartment. It was a four-story concrete building, and his place was on the second floor—a small room with a tiny kitchen attached. It was a bit small, but more than enough for one person. The location was convenient, close to the station, and just a short walk from a shopping street. It was a comfortable, cozy space just for him. But lately, that space was being invaded, little by little, by a certain someone.

The man was twenty-seven years old and unemployed. He was tall and thin, rough around the edges, and quick to anger. To top it off, he was in poor health, which made him difficult to deal with.

Work had kept Kazuya late, and sometimes, while walking along the dark streets, he'd glance up at his apartment from afar. In the past, he would see nothing but the dim outline of his window under the streetlight. But recently, a light was often on, signaling that someone was inside. The sight of it weighed heavily on his mind. The light told him that the man was still in his apartment.

Kazuya had taken detours, spending time at cafes, hoping that by the time he finished his coffee, the man might be gone. But each time, his hope was in vain. Despite his deep dislike, he couldn’t bring himself to tell the man to leave.

“I’m home,” Kazuya called out softly as he opened the door. The man, wearing an apron, turned around from the kitchen.

“Welcome back, Kazuya. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“You don’t have to cook every day.”

“It’s fine. I’m staying here, after all,” the man said with a smile—an innocent, carefree smile that Kazuya found thoroughly exhausting. As he moved to the back room, loosening his tie, he casually asked, “Did you find any work today?”

“No, I didn’t look today,” the man replied, completely unfazed. It was infuriating how little he seemed to care about the burden he was imposing.

“I don’t mind, but it’s not good for you to go on without a steady job.”

“Am I bothering you by being here?”

The man walked in holding a large tray, his face smiling, but his eyes were cold. A chill ran down Kazuya’s spine. This was the side of the man that scared him the most, especially since they had a long history together.

“No, it’s not like that...”

His voice trailed off, fading into a murmur.

“Well, even if you did find me a nuisance, you wouldn’t say anything. Hey, don’t look at me like I’m some kind of monster. I’m not blaming you. I’ll go job hunting tomorrow. I just felt a bit off today, that’s all. Anyway, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

The man set the food on the low table and waited for Kazuya to take his seat. No matter how many times Kazuya told him he didn’t need to cook or that he could eat first, the man never listened. It wasn’t out of politeness, but rather because Kazuya wanted to enjoy a meal in peace, by himself. But the man didn’t understand this, or maybe he just didn’t care. Kazuya had given up on nagging him, as it was simply too exhausting.

“Let’s eat,” Kazuya said, joining in the customary pre-meal gesture. The man—Keiichi Miura—clasped his hands together, and the awkward, tension-filled dinner began as usual.

:-::-:

Miura had been hospitalized earlier in the year due to a kidney condition but was discharged in September after his condition stabilized. Although his life wasn’t in immediate danger, he would need to control his diet and exercise for the rest of his life to manage his weakened kidneys. Before his illness, Miura had worked for a construction company, primarily doing roadwork, but he had to quit because he could no longer handle the physical demands.

In search of new opportunities, Miura left his rural hometown, believing he could find work in the city despite his illness. He showed up at Kazuya’s apartment unannounced, claiming to be job hunting. When Miura first arrived, it was a surprise. On a lazy Sunday afternoon, there was an unexpected knock at the door, and Kazuya, thinking it was either the building manager or a delivery, opened it to find Miura standing there.

“Hey,” Miura greeted him with a smile, handing over a box of sweets as a gift. Kazuya, assuming Miura had stopped by as part of a trip, invited him in. Looking back, he realized that was his mistake. Since then, Miura had settled into Kazuya’s apartment under the pretense of looking for work.

Kazuya had known Miura since they were in elementary school, from fourth grade through the end of middle school. While they had maintained a friendly relationship on the surface, Kazuya had always secretly disliked Miura’s rough and aggressive nature. After middle school, Kazuya had distanced himself from Miura without a word, and Miura should have realized this. Yet, he still showed up here, knowing full well he wasn’t wanted. Kazuya couldn’t understand why. Normally, people don’t want to stay close to someone who clearly dislikes them. It’s painful and sad to see the cold attitude of someone who doesn’t like you.

Although Kazuya tried to hide his dislike, Miura was quick to pick up on it in Kazuya’s tone and behavior. Yet, he seemed completely unfazed by it.

:-::-:

As they ate, the only sound was the noise of chewing. Miura never turned on the TV during meals. Kazuya had tried once, but Miura had turned it off, saying it could wait until later. The silence during meals felt like a funeral service, but Miura didn’t seem to mind. Kazuya, on the other hand, needed some kind of background noise during meals to feel at ease. Little by little, his way of life was being disrupted.

“How was school today?” Miura asked, breaking the silence. Kazuya looked up, thinking for a moment.

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“You always say that. There’s no way every day is the same. Think back.”

Being forced into conversation when he didn’t want to talk was incredibly irritating.

“Nothing really happened,” Kazuya replied, avoiding eye contact with Miura, who was proving to be an unbearable presence.

“Do you hate talking to me that much?”

The calm tone of Miura’s voice added tension to the room. He leaned across the table, trying to catch Kazuya’s eye. Kazuya, pretending to stay calm, reached for the pickles in the center of the table.

“Not really…”

Miura pulled the plate of pickles towards himself, leaving Kazuya’s chopsticks hanging in midair. Miura smiled slyly.

“Answer me.”

Unable to hide his irritation, Kazuya blurted out, “Yeah, I do.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Miura’s expression, which had held a teasing smile, turned icy.

“You should have said that from the start.”

Miura pushed the pickles back to the center of the table, but Kazuya no longer felt like eating them. The uncomfortable silence resumed, making it hard to breathe.

:-::-:

Even when it came time to sleep, Kazuya wasn’t alone. He didn’t have an extra futon, so they had to share one. Though he wasn’t particularly sensitive, Kazuya found it hard to sleep with someone else in the bed. Ever since Miura arrived, it took him one to two hours to fall asleep each night.

Kazuya seriously considered buying another futon to alleviate his chronic sleep deprivation, but there was no space for it, and he worried it would only encourage Miura to stay longer. With nothing else to do, he took to reading in bed as a way to pass the time. If this kept up, he could probably finish reading any long novel. For someone who couldn’t sleep, the night felt endlessly long.

After the heavy atmosphere of dinner, Kazuya watched a few online videos and took a bath. By the time he was done, it was already close to eleven. While Miura was in the bath, Kazuya got into the futon first, as usual, and picked up the thick novel he was reading. In the beginning, Miura would frequently interrupt him while he was trying to read, but after Kazuya explained that he wanted to focus, Miura stopped talking to him during these times.

The sound of water in the bathroom ceased, and Kazuya heard the creak of footsteps approaching. He ignored them. Even when Miura’s large, thin body slipped into the futon beside him, Kazuya continued to ignore him. Although he could ignore Miura himself, he couldn’t ignore his presence. He felt the damp warmth of Miura’s body where their shoulders touched.

“Kazuya,” Miura called softly.

“What is it?”

Miura, lying on his stomach, propped himself up on his elbows and peered over Kazuya’s book.

“Seems difficult,” Miura remarked.

“It’s a novel by a Russian author, but it’s just a story,” Kazuya replied.

“Hmm,” Miura hummed. Then, without warning, he grabbed the book, flipped through it, and handed it back. Kazuya suppressed his irritation and resumed reading. But soon after, Miura started poking Kazuya’s shoulder.

“What is it now?” Kazuya asked, without looking over.

“To be honest, I don’t really want to work. That’s why I’m not seriously looking for a job,” Miura confessed.

Kazuya’s eyes froze on the page. This wasn’t something he could just ignore. He turned to look at Miura, who was lying on his stomach with his hands folded under his chin, staring intently at Kazuya.

“No matter where I get a job, I don’t think I’d last long. I hate sitting at a desk. More than anything, I hate people telling me what to do,” Miura continued.

“But if you don’t work, you won’t be able to eat,” Kazuya pointed out.

Miura looked at him with an expectant gaze.

“Why don’t you hire me as a housekeeper? I’d be useful. I’ll cook, do the laundry, and take care of everything around the house,” Miura suggested out of the blue.

Kazuya could only sigh at such an absurd proposal.

“Enough with the jokes. I can take care of myself, and besides, I’d like to see a teacher who hires a housekeeper. I’ll help you find a job. Even if you did become a housekeeper, you’d be out of work the moment I got married.”

“Then you just shouldn’t get married,” Miura murmured, dead serious.

“Knock it off. Talking to you is exhausting. Anyway, just make sure you look for a job tomorrow. And find a place to live while you’re at it,” Kazuya said firmly.

Miura’s face tensed. The close proximity was unsettling; Kazuya could easily read his thoughts. Miura abruptly turned away.

“Are you even listening to me?” Kazuya asked.

Miura didn’t reply. Kazuya lost the will to continue reading. He closed the thick book and turned off the reading lamp.

“Good night,” Kazuya said, addressing Miura’s silent head, before burying his face in the pillow.

“As if you’ll actually sleep,” Miura muttered under his breath.

Anger flared within Kazuya. How dare Miura speak to him like that? He was a kind friend who had offered Miura a place to stay and even suggested helping him find a job. And to top it off, Miura was the reason Kazuya was chronically sleep-deprived.

“Thanks to someone, the nights are unbearably long,” Kazuya spat at Miura’s thin back. There was no response. Kazuya let out an exaggerated sigh, knowing it was futile, and squeezed his eyes shut.

:-::-:

Kazuya finally fell asleep, only to be woken by the heat. Despite it being late September, it was stiflingly humid, possibly due to the rain that had started after midnight. He was reluctant to turn on the air conditioner, fearing he’d catch a cold, but after a while, he couldn’t take it anymore. In the darkness, he grabbed the remote and set a timer for the AC. As the cool air brushed against his face, a sense of calm washed over him, and he began to drift back to sleep.

But then, he felt heat against his back. Miura’s long arms wrapped around him, holding him close. Fingers intertwined under his chest slowly moved up and down his abdomen. Kazuya’s drowsiness vanished, and he swallowed hard.

“Can’t sleep yet?” Miura’s low voice whispered in his ear.

“What... are you doing?” Kazuya stammered.

“I’m a bit cold,” Miura replied.

“Should I turn off the AC?”

“No, this feels nice,” Miura said, tightening his hold.

Kazuya thought, who would be happy to be hugged by another man like this? Even if Miura enjoyed it, Kazuya certainly didn’t. But he couldn’t say that aloud. Instead, he resigned himself to waiting until Miura fell asleep.

“Doesn’t this feel like sleeping with your mother?” Miura murmured from behind.

As if Kazuya could ever compare the man behind him to his mother. The absurdity of the statement made it impossible.

“Is it me? Is that why you can’t sleep? Strange... I sleep really well when you’re next to me,” Miura added.

Kazuya had planned to move away once Miura fell asleep, but he ended up spending the entire night in Miura’s arms, simply because he had fallen asleep first. When Kazuya woke up, he groggily reached for the clock but stopped. It was Sunday, so there was no need to get up early. The air in the room was chilly, likely because he had set the timer on the AC wrong. The room was cold, and Kazuya, muttering “cold, cold,” instinctively snuggled closer to the warmth beside him.

“Still sleeping?” Miura asked.

“Just a little longer…”

Talking made him more awake. Kazuya realized he must have set the timer wrong, yet somehow, he found himself clinging to Miura.

“Oh, sorry,” Kazuya said, trying to pull away without showing his embarrassment, but Miura pulled him closer instead.

“I’m getting up now... let go,” Kazuya insisted.

“You’re going back to sleep,” Miura said, pulling him in again, seemingly reluctant to let him go.

“I’m already awake, so let go,” Kazuya snapped, his irritation growing. Miura responded by roughly pushing Kazuya down onto the futon, pinning him on his back. Miura loomed over him, staring down.

“I forgot to tell you something yesterday. I’m not finding a job or a place to live. I’m staying here for good,” Miura declared.

Kazuya didn’t have time to entertain such nonsense. He shoved Miura’s shoulders forcefully.

“Then get out right now.”

Whether it was because he was still half-asleep, Kazuya didn’t bother to choose his words carefully.

“I’m not leaving. I’ve finally made it here,” Miura retorted, his words making no sense.

“Oh, come on,” Kazuya groaned, burying his head in his hands.

“What are you planning to do, stay here forever as a housekeeper? That’s ridiculous. Are you trying to ruin my life? Think about someone else for once.”

Miura’s shadow loomed over Kazuya like a harbinger of misfortune. He frowned and gave a crooked smile.

“You’ve messed with my life, too, haven’t you?”

Kazuya’s breath caught in his throat as Miura glared at him. What did he mean by that? Was it about moving away before high school without telling Miura where? Was it about getting into a prestigious high school, leading to dorm life, and ultimately leaving his father to die alone? Or was it making Miura realize how much Kazuya disliked him? Kazuya’s mind whirled with memories, each flashing before his eyes.

“If I hadn’t met you, I’d probably be a worthless person by now... but I might have been content with that. But then I found you...” Miura’s voice trailed off. He seemed to struggle to find the right words and let out a deep sigh.

"Maybe I should just go ahead and ruin everything so badly that there’s no turning back. I’ve thought about it—what would happen if I cut it off while you’re asleep? If I made you a man who could never be with a woman, you wouldn’t be thinking about marriage anymore, would you?"

Miura uttered this chilling fantasy with a faint smile. "Then it would be okay for me to stay by your side."

Kazuya felt dizzy. No matter how weak Miura's body was, he was still physically larger. Even if Kazuya was awake, if Miura decided to act, he would be forced to submit to whatever fate awaited him. Just imagining it filled him with terror, and his teeth began to chatter. Seeing Kazuya’s fearful expression, Miura shrugged.

"I’m kidding. Stop shaking like that. I wouldn’t actually do something like that. I don’t want to be hated by you for the rest of my life—imagine how bad that would feel."

But... but... if things ever got desperate, you would do it, wouldn’t you? Even if you can’t imagine such a desperate situation right now. Kazuya's trembling wouldn’t stop, and Miura, noticing this, wrapped his arms around Kazuya’s head as if cradling a child, asking curiously.

"...I’ve thought this for a while, but you’re scared of me, aren’t you? Why? I don’t remember ever hitting you. Sure, maybe a little when we were in elementary school, but in middle school, I always considered you my best friend. I tried to take good care of you. What exactly are you so afraid of?”

Is it my face, my voice, or maybe this scary expression? Miura’s questions were completely off the mark, making Kazuya realize how clueless he really was. It wasn’t anything like that. It wasn’t his face, his voice, or his expression. What scared Kazuya was the possibility that Miura might kill him one day. The thought struck him suddenly—one day, he might be killed. If Miura ever realized that Kazuya could never truly care for him, that might be the moment.

:-::-:

Run, run. Kazuya started thinking about how to escape. He didn’t want to be around Miura anymore. He thought about how he could get away, how he could avoid talking to him.

Miura had said something terrifying—that he would stay with Kazuya forever, even threatening to cut off that part of him. Kazuya had already run away once after graduating middle school, using his parents’ remarriage as an excuse to escape. He thought he had successfully gotten away, so why, after all these years, did he have to suffer from the same problem again?

Onodera had mentioned that when Miura dropped out of school, he had given Miura the address of Kazuya’s new home in Kansai. If Miura had wanted to contact him, he could have done so at any time. But Miura only came after Kazuya following his hospitalization. It was clear that Kazuya’s visit to him in the hospital had been a turning point, but since he hadn’t asked Miura directly, he didn’t know what had brought him here.

On his day off, feeling uneasy about being around Miura, Kazuya said he was going out to buy cigarettes and left the apartment. He slowly walked around the nearby park, enjoying the sunny day. After sitting on a bench for a while, he stood up, finding it too hot in the sunlight. He bought cigarettes at the corner store and stopped in front of the real estate agency next door, absentmindedly looking at the listings.

He had to escape. He couldn’t hope for a peaceful life unless he got away from Miura. But his job was here, so he couldn’t just leave. If he had to stay, then Miura at least needed to move out and find his own place. All this stress was because of that man. Since Miura had come... A middle-aged man inside the real estate office smiled at him through the window. Kazuya realized he needed to be a bit more forceful in getting Miura to leave, even if it meant finding him a place to stay. Otherwise, Kazuya’s nerves might snap.

“What are you doing?”

His hand froze on the sliding door as he was about to enter the office. The plan was already failing before it even started. Kazuya’s body began to tremble uncontrollably. He didn’t want to turn around, too scared to see the face behind him. Why... why was Miura here?

“Are you looking at places?” Miura asked.

Kazuya responded with a barely audible "Yeah," as if his voice were that of a mosquito. He could feel Miura peering over his shoulder at the apartment listings.

“It’s true, the current place is a bit cramped.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty tight for two guys. But renting these days is so expensive.”

“The locations listed here are all convenient. Were you out shopping, Miura?”

“Not really. You were late coming home, so I was just wandering around.”

Miura had come looking for him just because he was late coming home. He wasn’t a child, so why was he being monitored even on a walk to clear his head? Miura stared at the listings for a moment before clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“Renting is such a hassle. Maybe I should just buy us a house.”

Kazuya turned around and forced a smile, though he knew Miura was joking. Kazuya knew Miura didn’t have the money to buy a house. Miura’s father had a disability, and they had lived in a filthy, rundown house. Kazuya couldn’t imagine that Miura’s family, who had survived on welfare, would have any significant assets.

Even though Miura looked puzzled, he smiled, perhaps caught up in Kazuya’s forced cheer. Knowing it was impossible, Kazuya said, “Well, if you do buy a house, I might seriously consider living with you.”

Who would have thought he’d actually go through with it?

:-::-:

It was a week after that silly conversation. Exhausted from work, Kazuya had barely returned home when Miura dragged him out and shoved him into a taxi. No matter how much Kazuya asked where they were going, Miura just grinned and refused to answer. After about ten minutes, they arrived in front of a high-rise condominium that was currently for sale. Kazuya had a bad feeling about this. Without a word, Miura walked ahead and confidently entered the building. Kazuya followed him into the elevator, and they went up to the tenth floor. Miura stopped in front of a door marked 1006.

“Welcome,” Miura said with a formal bow before solemnly opening the door to the apartment.

“Can we go in?” Kazuya asked, hesitant. There wasn’t even a salesperson there. Was it okay to just enter a place that was still for sale?

“It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to get in trouble later.”

“You’re so annoying,” Miura said, pushing Kazuya into the entryway. With no choice, Kazuya took off his shoes and cautiously stepped inside.

They were greeted by a spacious entrance, and beyond the wide hallway was a living and dining area that looked larger in size. The south-facing window had no curtains, allowing the soft pink light of the setting sun to stream through the glass.

"There are three bedrooms in the back," Miura said, his face filled with pride. Kazuya felt a growing sense of dread and a pounding heart that wouldn't calm down.

"What is this place?" Kazuya asked.

"I bought it. You’re the one who said if I bought a house, you'd consider living together. Well, I bought the house, so you need to keep your promise."

Kazuya’s vision went black, though it was just in his mind. He truly wished he could just collapse right then and there. How could Miura afford such a luxurious condo? Could it be...?

"Wh-where did you get the money?" Kazuya stammered as he pressed Miura for answers. Miura frowned.

"You didn’t do anything illegal, did you?" Kazuya grabbed Miura’s shirt and shook him. Miura tilted his head, puzzled.

"Do you really trust me that little?"

"It’s not that, but it doesn’t make sense. Where did you get the money to buy something so expensive?"

"Do I really have to explain?" Miura sighed, and Kazuya’s mind went into a panic.

"So, it’s dirty money, isn’t it? You need to cancel the contract immediately. If you do it now, you can still fix this!"

As Kazuya desperately pleaded, Miura’s mouth twisted into a smirk. Miura then firmly gripped Kazuya’s shoulders, and just that was enough to silence him.

"Listen, I'll explain. The money I used to buy this condo came from my dad’s life insurance payout. Plus, I inherited a house from my aunt, but it was demolished to widen the road as part of land improvement. The government bought the land, so I got the money from that."

As soon as Kazuya understood the explanation, a wave of anger surged within him. It was only natural.

"If you had that much money, you didn’t need to work. You could’ve lived comfortably in the countryside as long as you didn’t indulge too much. So why did you come to me?"

Miura looked down, like a scolded child.

"Because I wanted to see you."

Kazuya couldn’t understand why Miura would say he wanted to see him, knowing full well that Kazuya didn’t like him. Miura could have gone to someone who actually cared for him.

"Why..." Kazuya couldn’t continue. Miura stared at the floor and muttered, "I just thought... maybe you could be kind to me again, like you used to be."

:-::-:

Pushed by Miura, Kazuya moved into the brand-new condo. He deeply regretted the thoughtless words he had said, which had led to this. While Miura went downstairs to get the rest of their things, Kazuya stood in the center of the spacious, clean, and still empty room, thinking once again about how he could escape from Keiichi Miura.

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