A Disgusting Guy: Chapter 5

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Sanctuary

The content warning is in the footnotes.⁰

Soaked by the rain, Kazuya’s body was thoroughly frozen. Just stepping into the apartment’s entrance, sheltered from the outside air, felt almost warm. He pulled off his wet socks before stepping onto the hallway floor, holding the damp, cold fabric like a soggy rag in one hand.

“It’s cold,” Miura muttered, shivering beside him. Ignoring the man, Kazuya headed straight to the laundry room. He tossed his socks into the washing machine, then started undressing, shedding his shirt and slacks one by one. Miura followed him to the laundry room but stopped at the entrance, not stepping inside. Kazuya acted as if Miura were invisible, continuing into the bathroom. He braced his hands against the wall and let the hot water cascade over his head, reviving the nearly dead cells of his frozen body. "Get it together," he told himself. There was no time to zone out—he needed to stay sharp. He had to fight the man off, drive him out, until he was gone from here.

When Kazuya stepped out of the bathroom, Miura was standing in the same spot at the entrance, exactly where he’d been before. It was as if time had frozen while Kazuya was in the shower.

“Kazuya.”

Kazuya didn’t respond to the voice. With just a towel wrapped around his waist, he walked to the bedroom closet, pulling on a long-sleeved T-shirt and sweatpants. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but he knew he needed to eat something. He went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Too tired to think much about it, he reached for some frozen food that only needed reheating.

No matter how much he ignored Miura, his thoughts were consumed by the man’s presence somewhere in the apartment. As Kazuya grabbed the rock-hard frozen pilaf and closed the freezer door, he felt a sudden chill on his back.

"Gah!" The pilaf clattered to the floor with a thud as a cold, wet weight pressed against his back, making him yelp in a hoarse, pitiful voice. He’d been so focused on warming himself up and changing into dry clothes that he’d forgotten about the cold.

“I’m freezing,” Miura said, his voice trembling. The remnants of the rain soaked into Kazuya’s back. He couldn’t shake him off, no matter how much he struggled—Miura clung tightly.

“Change your clothes,” Kazuya muttered, his voice shaking. “Take a shower, too. There are clothes in the closet in the back room. Wear whatever fits.”

Finally, Miura let go, leaving Kazuya with a lingering, cold dampness and an unpleasant wetness on his back. Kazuya shivered as he picked up the fallen pilaf, his knees still on the floor. Just that one contact had left him unable to stand for a few moments.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

After Miura changed out of his wet clothes, Kazuya heated the frozen pilaf and began eating. Miura returned to the kitchen, now wearing Kazuya’s shirt and jeans with an air of entitlement. His cheeks were slightly flushed, warm again, and there was no trace of rain left on him.

“I’m hungry too,” Miura said, sitting across from Kazuya at the small square dining table. The table was so small that they could easily touch each other if they extended their arms. Miura propped his elbows on the table, using a spoon he had found from somewhere to scoop up some of Kazuya’s pilaf and bring it to his mouth. Although startled by Miura’s audacity, Kazuya couldn’t bring himself to protest.

“Tastes awful,” Miura grumbled, taking a few more bites and then sipping water from Kazuya’s glass. Satisfied, he put the spoon down and stared at Kazuya.

“The TV’s in the next room,” Kazuya said, his voice clipped.

“I’ll stay here until you’re done. Eating alone is no fun,” Miura replied, making Kazuya uncomfortable under his gaze. Kazuya quickly stuffed the remaining pilaf into his mouth to finish as fast as possible.

Kazuya hurriedly cleaned up after the meal and left the uncomfortable kitchen, retreating to the living room. He sat on the couch and turned on the TV, desperate for any distraction.

He heard the sound of a chair scraping in the kitchen, signaling that Miura was moving. ‘Don’t come over here. Don’t come near me,’ Kazuya thought frantically, pretending to be engrossed in the TV. But he felt the couch creak as Miura sat beside him. Kazuya resolved not to look at him.

Suddenly, he felt fingers brush lightly down the back of his neck. He jumped, his hand flying up to cover the spot.

“What are you doing?” Kazuya demanded, turning around to find Miura smiling, his fingers still hovering in the air.

“Nothing.”

“Stop playing around,” Kazuya snapped, his irritation seeping into his voice. He turned back to the TV, but he could hear Miura suppressing his laughter behind him. Was it that funny to see him on edge, unable to lower his hand from his neck?

Then, Miura placed his hand on Kazuya’s thigh, making him jerk in surprise. When Kazuya glanced over, Miura was still looking at the TV, not at him. The warmth of Miura’s hand seeped through Kazuya’s pants, making him uncomfortable. He grabbed Miura’s wrist to push the hand away, but Miura suddenly gripped his thigh with surprising strength.

“It hurts!”

Miura let go as soon as Kazuya cried out, then shrugged and spread his hands wide with a mischievous smile.

“Oh, sorry.”

Kazuya couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up, knowing Miura was deliberately messing with him, finding amusement in Kazuya’s reactions.

“Enough already!”

Kazuya shouted, but Miura just looked away innocently, as if he hadn’t heard. Kazuya stomped out of the living room, frustrated. He couldn’t stand being in the same room as Miura, couldn’t bear breathing the same air. He retreated to the bedroom and shut the door behind him. The empty room had two beds, one cluttered with forgotten cardboard boxes. Since he couldn’t escape outside, he wanted at least to be free from Miura in his dreams. He pulled the sheets over his head and closed his eyes. Within minutes, he heard the bedroom door creak open.

“Kazuya.”

Footsteps drew closer, like a scene from a horror movie, each creak of the floorboards growing louder.

“Kazuya.”

Miura’s hand pressed lightly on Kazuya through the sheets, as if confirming he was there. The bed groaned under Miura’s weight as he sat down. Miura’s hand moved, tracing a path from Kazuya’s head, down his side, and to his ankles, again and again.

Kazuya could feel the sheet being pulled away. Just as he gripped the fabric to stop it, Miura tugged harder. Kazuya clung to the sheet, but eventually, Miura yanked it off completely. Curled up on his side, Kazuya held his breath, his ears ringing with Miura’s explosive laughter.

"You're really something, you know that?"

Ah, enough. I can't take it anymore. I cover my ears, desperate not to hear his voice. While I'm doing this, Miura slides into bed next to me, still fully dressed, and wraps his arms around me from behind. His warmth clings to me like a scorching heat.

"Get off me," I demand. But no matter how much I hate this, why do I have to be the one he clings to? The more I struggle, the tighter his arms grip me. This can't go on. I take deep breaths, trying to calm myself down.

"It's cramped for two people in here. I'll set up the other bed so you can sleep there, so could you please let go?" I try to speak calmly.

"I like it here," he replies.

"It might be fine for you, but I can't sleep like this. I think I’ve told you before—I have trouble sleeping with someone else in the bed."

"That's not my problem," he snaps, his tone dismissive. He pulls me roughly by the shoulders, forcing me onto my back. Miura looms over me, staring intently into my face.

"If you can't sleep, then try harder," he says, pinning my head with both hands as his face inches closer. I know what he's about to do, and I desperately turn my face away.

"Don't like the idea of a kiss?" he whispers in a low voice near my ear.

"Use some common sense," I retort.

"Common sense, huh?" he chuckles softly, but he doesn’t kiss me on the lips. Instead, he licks and sucks on my neck, hard enough to leave a painful mark.

"I want to do it with you. I've thought about it for a long time," he says bluntly. "But you're a guy, so I didn’t think anything would come of it, which is why I didn’t act on it."

Hearing him say it so clearly makes me feel sick. He’d hinted at this before, almost like a threat, but knowing he’d seriously considered it makes my stomach churn.

"It’s no different with guys or girls. It feels good to hold someone," he murmurs, biting the back of my neck, making my back tense up. The wetness from his tongue after the sharp pain feels disgusting.

"Cut it out! Stop messing around," I yell, trying to get out of bed, but he forcefully pulls me back.

"Okay, okay. I’ll stop. Just don’t thrash around in such a cramped space," he says, and true to his word, he stops messing with me and only holds me close.

"I won’t force it. It wouldn’t be satisfying, and I’ll wait until you’re in the mood. I’ll always be right next to you, so just let me know when you’re ready," Miura says, laughing softly.

"Even though I’m trying to sound good, I might just lose patience and go for it," he adds with a grin.

Though the weight on my chest is gone, I can still feel his presence. He’s seriously planning to sleep next to me. Even if I got up and tried to sleep somewhere else, he would surely follow me and harass me even more.

Even though not much time had passed, I could already hear the sound of Miura’s breathing, deep and even as he slept peacefully beside me. The more I listened, the more unbearably hollow I felt.

It was agonizing to be unable to sleep. Miura could sleep, but I couldn’t. I felt tears welling up and hurriedly pressed my hands to my eyes. If he found out I was crying, it would only give him more material to mock me with. Silently sobbing, I kept wondering when I would finally be freed from this man.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

"Mr. Sugimoto!"

When I came to, I was sitting on the podium in the classroom. My head felt heavy, like it was wrapped in a thick fog, and I couldn’t summon any strength in my limbs. I could hear the students calling out to me, their voices coming from the dark corners of my blurry vision.

"Someone, go get another teacher!"

Someone shook my shoulders, and suddenly, a wave of nausea surged up inside me. I clapped a hand over my mouth, barely able to open my eyes to see the students’ uniforms surrounding me.

"Are you okay, sir? Can you stand?"

A hand rested on my shoulder, and from the voice, I recognized it as Mr. Yamada, one of my colleagues. I tried to push strength into my legs, but they wouldn’t cooperate. Realizing I couldn’t stand, Mr. Yamada hoisted me onto his back.

"I’m taking him to the infirmary. You guys, study on your own until I get back," Mr. Yamada instructed the students. I felt embarrassed to be carried like that, but my body didn’t give me any other option.

He carried me to the infirmary and gently laid me down on one of the beds.

"I told your class to study on their own for now. I’ve also left my own class, so I need to get back. Ms. Yamashiro should be here soon to check on you," Mr. Yamada said.

"I’m sorry," I managed to mumble, even though speaking was exhausting.

"Don’t worry about it. See you later," he said before leaving the room. Not long after, I heard someone else enter the infirmary.

"Oh my, Mr. Sugimoto, what happened?" It was the school nurse, Ms. Yamashiro, approaching me.

"I felt faint during class… I got dizzy and felt sick," I explained as she took my blood pressure. While she was doing this, I felt myself slipping away again.

"Mr. Sugimoto… Mr. Sugimoto…"

I was lying alone in the bed—Miura wasn’t there. Ms. Yamashiro’s voice echoed faintly as if it were coming from far away, and I felt like I was being pulled into murky water. I ended up sleeping in the infirmary bed all afternoon, missing all my classes. I was gently shaken awake when the bell rang to signal the end of the school day, and I was startled when I realized how late it was.

"With my authority as the school nurse, I made your classes self-study today," Ms. Yamashiro said with a smile, taking my blood pressure again and nodding approvingly.

"It seems like you’re dealing with sleep deprivation. The body is honest, you know—it will send out an SOS right away. Are you leading such a busy life that you can’t sleep, or is something bothering you?" she asked, speaking to me like I was one of her students. The way she talked, like a mother, made me feel oddly self-conscious, and I started fiddling with the edge of the blanket.

"It’s not really a problem… I just haven’t been able to sleep much," I admitted.

Ms. Yamashiro furrowed her brow and narrowed her small eyes even more.

"Sleep is important, you know. It’s one of the three basic human needs. The other two are hunger and… well, you know," she said with a meaningful look.

The mention of sexual desire made my fingers twitch involuntarily.

"Alright, I think you’ve had enough rest. How about saving the rest of your sleep for when you get home? I need to close up the infirmary for the day," she said kindly.

"I’m sorry," I apologized again, attempting to get out of bed. But when I tried to stand, the floor seemed to warp beneath my feet—or maybe it was my legs that buckled—and I ended up sitting back down with a thud.

"Oh dear, are you okay?" Ms. Yamashiro asked, concerned. My legs had given up, refusing to support my weight.

"Maybe you weren’t fully recovered after all. I thought you didn’t need to see a doctor, but perhaps we should have you checked out just to be safe," she suggested.

"That’s really not necessary," I replied, but my fingers began to tremble uncontrollably. The shaking spread through my entire body, until my teeth were chattering like I’d been abandoned in the freezing Antarctic.

"Maybe you should rest a bit longer before going home," she suggested.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, clinging to the bed as I struggled to lie back down. As soon as I did, the trembling stopped, and strength slowly returned to my legs.

"Something's not right... Are you sure you can't walk?" she asked.

I tried to stand again, but my legs still refused to cooperate.

"This is a problem. I can’t support you on my own. Maybe we should have someone come pick you up," she suggested.

The word "pick up" made my back tense.

"But you live alone, don't you?" she asked.

"I don’t want to go home," I said, surprised at how childlike my voice sounded.

"Mr. Sugimoto?"

"I don’t want to go home," I repeated.

Ms. Yamashiro looked at me, clearly confused. I couldn't say anything more, so I just hung my head. She placed a gentle hand on my head, like a mother comforting her child. The touch broke the dam, and I began to cry uncontrollably, like a child, with no shame or concern for appearances.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

I found myself sitting across from Ms. Yamashiro in a quiet corner of an izakaya.

"If you don’t want to go home, then maybe you don’t have to," she said. Those words felt like they broke a spell, and I finally felt able to move my legs again.

"I feel like drinking with a young man tonight. Will you join me?" she asked. She took my arm and led me to her favorite izakaya near the station. She sipped her beer slowly, savoring it.

"If I drink too much, my husband will get mad, so I usually just have one glass," she said with a shy smile.

"Why don’t you want to go home? Is it too lonely in your apartment by yourself?" she asked, getting straight to the point.

"I’m not alone," I replied.

"Oh," she said, raising her eyebrows and giving me a faint smile.

"Did you have a fight with the person you're living with?"

"No," I said.

"Can I ask... is that person your partner?" she inquired. I couldn’t tell if she was driven by curiosity or genuine concern. But I knew that even if I told her, she wouldn’t gossip about it. Whether it was out of curiosity or not, I needed to tell someone about the terrible situation I was living in.

"The person I’m living with is a man... an old friend," I explained.

"A friend," she said, nodding.

"I hate him," I said bluntly.

Ms. Yamashiro looked puzzled.

"Did something happen between you two?"

"We didn’t have a fight... It’s just that I hate him. I don’t want him in my home. But no matter how much I tell him to leave, he won’t go."

I could see that my sudden outpouring of words had startled her, but I couldn’t stop myself from continuing.

"Every time I come home, he clings to me. Even when I sit down, he’s right there next to me. I push him away, but he keeps coming back. I’ve begged him to leave me alone, but he doesn’t listen."

The memory of Miura’s persistence made my temples throb with pain.

"It’s infuriating, having him so close all the time, and I get even angrier with myself for constantly having to tell him off. All I want is to sleep peacefully at night, but even then, he gets into my bed. I can’t sleep when someone else is with me, so the nights are unbearable."

Ms. Yamashiro listened intently, her expression serious.

"I don’t know what to say," she admitted, lowering her eyes and touching her cheek in thought.

"So, he’s an old friend, but you dislike him. If it’s that bad and he won’t leave, maybe you should take legal action. It could be considered trespassing. But I suppose you don’t want to go that far since he’s your friend," she suggested.

Her glass, which she had been absentmindedly playing with, was now empty.

"Does he know that you hate him?" she asked.

"He knows. He’s even said, ‘I know you hate me.’"

"I see. So, is he staying with you because he has nowhere else to go, or because he’s financially struggling?"

"No, he’s not struggling. He’s just staying to torment me."

Ms. Yamashiro sighed softly.

"Torment you, huh? From what you’ve told me, it sounds like he’s trying to get your attention, even if it means bothering you," she said, chuckling slightly.

"It’s like when a child misbehaves to get their mother’s attention. He probably just wants to be close to you because he’s lonely. Even adults can be lonely, you know."

Miura... lonely?

"Maybe if he realized that he wasn’t alone, he would stop doing things that annoy you," she suggested.

I thought about my past, about how I had quietly betrayed Miura throughout our elementary and middle school years, and about how he had bought the apartment so we could live together. Miura had said he wanted me to be kind to him like I used to be. But for me, being kind to him would mean resuming the fake friendship we had when we were kids. Even if I pretended to be kind, Miura would see through it in an instant.

Talking with Ms. Yamashiro had helped ease the sense of desperation that had been overwhelming me. I was able to look at my relationship with Miura more objectively. But even though I felt a bit calmer, the thought of returning to the apartment made me hesitant. I knew Miura would look for me if I didn’t go home, but I needed at least one night to myself, just to sleep peacefully. I briefly considered letting him know, but then I decided that I didn’t need his permission for my actions.

That night, I stayed in a business hotel near the station. Ms. Yamashiro had advised me to take some time to think things over on my own. But the comfort of being alone in bed was so overwhelming that I fell asleep without much thought at all.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

I decided to take a break from Miura for a day. After a week of sleep deprivation, the rest I got in the hotel and the infirmary left me feeling physically and mentally refreshed. With my health restored, my thoughts, which had been focused on the past, began to look forward a bit more.

I had been consumed by the idea that Miura would be by my side forever, but that wasn’t necessarily true. There was a chance that Miura might fall in love with someone else in the future.

It’s just a little more hardship, I told myself. Although I still dreamt of my fiancée abandoning me on our wedding day, and it still hurt to think about it, I knew I would eventually forget. The fact that I could think this way was progress. If I ever met someone else and wanted to marry them, I was sure Miura would eventually leave.

When I woke up in the hotel, my mind and body felt clear. As the day progressed and it got closer to the time to go home, the dread began to set in again. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep with Miura around, and worse, just one day apart had left me unsure of how to interact with him. I had spent so much time avoiding him that I didn’t know how to handle him anymore.

Suddenly being kind would seem odd... I realized it was almost 7 PM when the baseball club advisor called out to me, snapping me out of my thoughts. I was surprised to find that I had spent an entire hour sitting in the staff room, lost in contemplation about how to deal with Miura.

Should I stay at the hotel again tonight? That thought crossed my mind as I walked out of the school gate, my steps heavy. Tomorrow was Saturday. If I didn’t go home now, it might become increasingly difficult to face Miura later. Remembering what Ms. Yamashiro had said the previous day, I clung to the "possibility" she mentioned, forcing myself to walk the path to the apartment, even though my legs were reluctant.

At this time of year, as autumn gives way to winter, it starts getting dark around 5 PM, and by 7 PM, it feels as dark as the middle of the night. From a distance, I looked up at my room and noticed that the kitchen light wasn’t on. I tilted my head in confusion. Even if the kitchen light was off, there should be some light leaking from the living room if that light was on. Could Miura be out? The thought brought a wave of relief that made my whole body relax. But then my cautious side whispered that he might just be asleep and forgot to turn the lights on. Even so, the mere possibility that he wasn’t there made my steps feel lighter.

I opened the front door. The hallway was dark, but there was a faint light coming from the living room. I could hear the monotonous drone of the television. The TV was on in the dark, but no other lights were on. If the TV was on, someone must be watching it. I took a deep breath. I deliberately made some noise as I walked, peeking into the living room from the hallway. I saw the top of someone’s head over the back of the sofa. The room was dark, the curtains tightly drawn, with only the flickering light of the TV illuminating the space.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual, though I was tense. I turned on the living room light, filling the room with a comforting brightness. The man on the sofa didn’t react at all, and just when I thought he might be asleep, he suddenly sat up, looked at me, and sighed.

"Kazuya, I need to talk to you," Miura said. His voice wasn’t angry—in fact, it carried a fragile, almost timid, tone.

"Can it wait? I want to change first," I replied, thinking he would probably ask why I stayed out the previous night. Without waiting for an answer, I turned to head to my room.

Suddenly, Miura grabbed my shirt collar, yanking me back. I barely had time to let out a gasp before he spun me around to face him. He let go of my collar only to grab me by the chest, dragging me across the room. I could feel the intensity of his anger as if it were burning my skin. Flashes of memory shot through my mind—Miura in elementary school, mercilessly beating a classmate, a girl named Tanaka. Was he going to hit me like that, too?

"M-Miura!" I managed to stammer with trembling lips. He dragged me into the bedroom and shoved me onto the bed. There was no mistaking the intent in his movements. I tried to get up, but it was too late. Miura was on top of me, and before I could react, he tore my shirt open from the top down.

"What are you—" My words were swallowed by dry lips as Miura’s hand pressed down on my head, his mouth devouring mine. I felt as if I were about to be consumed entirely, my heart shrinking in terror. I flailed my arms wildly, beating against his back, but it was like striking a brick wall. My life felt like it was dangling from a thin wire stretched between cliffs, and I was desperately struggling to save myself. Miura pulled back, clicking his tongue in frustration. In the brief moment of separation, I tried to scramble away, to flee from him, from this room, from anything.

I didn’t care how it looked. I crawled on all fours to the edge of the bed, but Miura’s weight crashed down on me from behind, pinning me to the floor. His body pressed me down so hard I couldn’t move, and despite my frantic kicking, it was no use. He yanked down my pants and underwear in one swift motion, exposing me to the cold air, sending a shiver down my spine. Fear... I was terrified. This was the last thing I wanted. Not with Miura... not with him... I twisted and writhed desperately, refusing to let this happen, determined not to let him have his way.

With a gasp, my desperate resistance was silenced by one simple move: Miura grabbed me by the testicles, squeezing tightly. I couldn’t even cry out.

"Stop struggling, or I’ll crush it," he hissed, his voice echoing through my back. He was dead serious. One hand gripped my testicles, while the other caressed my waist, stroking, touching the part of me that was only meant for expelling waste. His fingers withdrew, replaced by something hot pressing against me. And then, with a single, forceful thrust, he was inside.

"It hurts!" I screamed, feeling a pain unlike anything I’d ever known. It was as if I were being torn apart from the inside.

"Stop!" I begged. The searing pain in that sensitive place was unbearable. I tried to crawl forward, to escape it, but he yanked me back forcefully, the friction only intensifying the agony. Miura held my hips firmly and began moving back and forth. The pain grew worse with each motion, and I screamed, unable to endure it. Tears streamed down my face. I didn’t want to think about the wet, slippery sensation on my thighs.

"Stop! Stop!" I kept screaming, but it didn’t end. Crying didn’t stop it either.

First, he violated me from behind, then flipped me onto my back and did it again. By that time, I had no strength left to resist, just lying there as he pounded into me. Completely drained, my body limp, Miura dragged me back onto the bed and began touching me all over, licking my body, playing with my genitals like a hyena feeding on a carcass. It wasn’t until the dead of night that I was finally freed from the hyena’s clutches.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

As soon as I lost consciousness, I fell into a deep sleep, but I kept waking up intermittently. When I finally woke up fully, it was almost noon. The light seeping through the gap in the curtains was blindingly bright, indicating good weather outside, but the sealed-off room was as silent as the depths of the ocean.

I was completely naked, still held in Miura's arms. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I noticed my clothes—my torn shirt and slacks—discarded on the floor beside the bed. When I tried to move my upper body, a sharp, heavy pain shot through my lower back, making me let out a small groan. Feeling something leaking out of me, I instinctively touched that place, and my fingers came away stained with thick, coagulating blood. Just the sight of it made me feel nauseous.

"Kazuya," Miura's low voice resonated against my back, and just hearing it made my entire body tremble.

"You're awake," he said, pulling me closer. His hands were hot as they roamed over my chest, playing with my nipples like they were toys. He sucked on my neck, biting gently. He turned me onto my back and kissed me deeply. The way his tongue leisurely explored my mouth was just like the countless times he had done it the previous day. Even as he held me, my arms remained limp, thrown out on the bed, sinking into the sheets. I felt something hard pressing against my lower abdomen. Was he going to do it again? The thought sent a wave of fear coursing through me. I imagined my legs being spread wide again, being penetrated, and shaken.

'No…'

I slowly started to gather strength in my hands. I slid my fingers up Miura's neck, tightening my grip. But he didn't stop kissing me. As my fingers slowly increased their pressure, Miura finally let out a strained breath. Just then, he grabbed me in the groin with one hand, squeezing it tightly.

"Ugh…"

My strength faltered, and my fingers fell away. Miura lightly rubbed his neck, looking down at me with a smirk.

"You want to kill me?"

The white skin of his neck bore the distinct marks of my fingers. I couldn’t believe what I had just done. Did I really want to kill him?

"You're spineless," Miura sneered. He grabbed my limp hands and placed them back on his marked neck.

"Squeeze harder. You never do anything halfway."

His intense gaze bore down on me, and my trembling fingers couldn’t muster any strength. When he let go of my hands, they dropped limply to my sides.

"Although…" he whispered into my ear, "I don't think a weakling like you could ever do something as bold as killing me."

"Ugh…"

Tears welled up and spilled over. These weren’t the tears of pain from yesterday; they were tears of misery and helplessness, born from the realization that no matter what, I couldn’t escape this situation. Miura watched me cry, stroking my hair gently as if to comfort me, his fingers softly tousling it.

"Why are you crying?"

He asked, even though he knew the answer. He grasped my useless hands, guiding them to cling to him. I dug my nails into his back, pouring all my anger and resentment into the gesture.

"Don’t cry so much. I’m sorry for being rough with you. Does your waist hurt? I was too rough yesterday, but the bleeding has stopped, so you should be okay now."

"You… you bastard…"

"You hate me so much that you can’t stand to look at my face?"

My words were cut off as his lips sealed mine. I had no strength left to resist.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

With each step, the dull pain in my waist made me wince. Maybe out of pity, Miura carried me around. Whether it was to the bathroom, the kitchen, or the shower, he was always by my side. While I was mindlessly watching TV, he unbuttoned my shirt and kissed my chest. Even when he stripped me of my pants and toyed with my genitals, I barely resisted. I couldn’t move properly, and I couldn’t escape. I hardly ate, not feeling hungry at all. I only nibbled at the food Miura made, before lying down again.

I spent the weekend anxiously waiting for Monday. Once Monday came, I could go to school. Then I would be free from him. It was the only thing on my mind.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The second time we had anything resembling sex was Sunday night. After forcibly entering me on Friday, Miura had touched and teased me but hadn’t gone all the way. I tried desperately to fall asleep, knowing that once I got through this night, it would be Monday, and I could be away from him. Of course, Miura slipped into bed beside me, pulling me close and kissing me whenever the mood struck him. Just as I was starting to drift off, too tired to stay awake, he began to grow bolder. He stripped off my T-shirt, touching my bare skin. That much had happened the day before, but when he slid down my underwear and started caressing my hips, a shiver of dread ran down my spine.

"Does it still hurt?" His voice was low, wet, and it resonated in my ears.

"Of course it hurts. It’s unbearable."

It had gotten much better compared to yesterday and the day before, but I knew that if I admitted that, he would definitely do it again. I wanted to avoid that at all costs.

"I’ll try not to make it hurt too much. So, you’ll have to cooperate."

There wasn’t a hint that he planned to stop. Panicking, I turned to face him in the bed.

"Please, not tonight. If you do this, I won’t be able to stand at the podium tomorrow."

Miura raised an eyebrow slightly and gave a wicked grin.

"I don’t care."

"But…"

"Were you really planning to go to work?"

"Of course! I can’t take time off that easily. If I miss a day, catching up is a real pain."

"You’re not going."

The slow, deliberate way Miura spoke made my head throb as if it had been struck by a blunt object.

"That’s not possible. I’ve been patient these past two days, haven’t I? I let you do whatever you wanted. Tomorrow, I have to go to work…"

Miura leaned over me, grabbing my jaw. His sharp eyes glared down at me from up close, their depths twisted as if mocking me. He roughly gripped my genitals, and despite my resistance, I felt myself hardening.

"At first, I thought it was one-sided, but that’s not the case, is it? This just proves you’re enjoying it."

He whispered into my ear.

"Stop it. I don’t want this."

But he kept playing with me until I came against his stomach. Miura adjusted himself, holding my limp legs.

"No… If you do this, I won’t be able to go to school tomorrow…"

I pleaded, my voice breaking into sobs, but he just laughed and showed no signs of stopping. He looked like a devil, grinning down at me.

"How about this? If you use your mouth, I’ll leave your backside alone."

He pressed his hot length against my lips, offering the worst kind of deal, and I gritted my teeth in anger.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Three times… no, four times… I lost count and gave up trying to keep track. Miura was asleep. After doing whatever he pleased, it was no surprise that he could sleep soundly. I slipped out of bed without waking him. My waist throbbed with pain, but it wasn’t as bad as before since he hadn’t fully penetrated me. I quickly showered, packed a few clothes and my bankbook into a large bag, and quietly left the apartment without waking him.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

I passed through the school gates early in the morning when only students with early practice were arriving. As I entered the enclosed space of the school, surrounded by its white walls, I felt a sense of relief, and my body relaxed. Some students glanced curiously at the large bag I was carrying. Even though they couldn’t possibly know that I was running away from my cohabitant, I felt awkward and switched the bag to my other hand, holding it close to the wall. Once I entered the faculty room, I was certain I had finally reached a safe place. This was my workplace, a place Miura couldn’t reach.

When I sat down, a sharp pain shot through my waist again. But that was just a minor issue. There were no intrusive eyes here, no one watching me. That alone made this place feel like heaven.

I tried to stand when the warning bell rang, but my legs wouldn’t support me, and I nearly fell. Grabbing the edge of the desk, I could feel the blood rushing down to my feet. I sat back down and waited until I felt a bit better. The last time I had symptoms like this, I was told it was anemia.

Monday’s schedule had four classes: three in the morning and one in the afternoon. I planned to rest in the nurse’s office during breaks and avoid standing too much during class, otherwise, I wouldn’t make it through the day. I arrived at the classroom five minutes late, dragging my aching waist and unsteady legs.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Standing was unbearable, so I remained seated while having the students read from their textbooks. Listening to their dull, monotonous English pronunciation, combined with my lack of sleep, made me drowsy, even though it was still morning. My lethargy seemed to spread to the students, as today there was more whispering than usual. But I didn’t even feel like scolding them.

My thoughts wandered. A storm of emotions churned in my chest. What was Miura thinking? No matter how much I said no, he wouldn’t listen. He’d hold me, laughing all the while. It was revenge. Punishment for betraying him repeatedly. He must have searched for the most humiliating and demeaning way to hurt me, one that inflicted more psychological pain than any physical violence.

I understood everything, so I wasn’t hurt. I wouldn’t let myself be hurt by such a pathetic attempt. I didn’t want to lose to Miura. I refused to surrender to a man who tormented others with a cruel smile. But how could I defeat him? No, winning or losing didn’t matter. I just wanted to get away from him, in any way possible. Running away… that might be the ultimate victory.

If only I had known things would turn out this way, I should have taken action sooner. My half-hearted attitude had emboldened that monster. I should have pushed him away so forcefully that he wouldn’t dare come near me again, whether I was kind or cold. That way, I wouldn’t have had to endure this terrible situation.

“Alright, you can sit down now.”

A pause in the text. I had let them read for too long, lost in thought. I stood up slowly to explain the sentence on the blackboard.

The door slid open with a loud clatter. It was first period, so it was probably a late student coming in. But the door opened with such disregard. As I noticed the figure entering, a chill ran through my body. It was a man who shouldn’t have been there, who shouldn’t have been able to come here. He stood in worn-out jeans and a hastily thrown-on shirt, the buttons mismatched. His narrowed eyes were fixed straight on me.

“Who is that?”

Whispers spread among the students. Fear alone wouldn’t be enough to deal with this. Forcing my trembling legs to move, I approached the doorway, but I couldn’t muster the courage to look up at Miura’s face.

“This is class time. Please leave.”

He grabbed my arm. With incredible force, he dragged me out into the hallway.

“I’m in the middle of a class!”

My protest was ignored as I was pulled away like luggage. I was being taken back. Back to that miserable, oppressive apartment at the bottom of the gutter.

I wrenched my arm free with all my strength, and for a moment, his grip loosened. A fleeting moment of freedom. I turned my back on the nightmare and ran. Miura chased after me. I ran down the straight hallway, climbed the stairs at the end. I knew I wouldn’t be able to escape if I didn’t get outside, but in my panic, I wasn’t thinking straight. I realized too late, after climbing up to the third floor. I ran through the hallway lined with special classrooms, knowing that if I reached the end, I could take the emergency stairs down.

I tried to unlock the door to the emergency stairs, but the knob wouldn’t turn. It might have rusted from lack of use. I threw myself against the door, trying to force it open. But the aluminum door only dented slightly, refusing to budge. In the meantime, he caught up with me. With no other way out, I desperately twisted the doorknob. A hand landed on my shoulder. It was over.

In a last-ditch effort, I rammed into Miura. He staggered but didn’t fall, standing firm in front of me.

With my only escape route blocked, I darted into the nearby music prep room. There was nowhere else to go. I quickly closed the door behind me, but there was no time to lock it. I clung to the door, trying to keep it shut as he tried to force it open. But my strength was no match for his, and the door gradually opened. As Miura began to wedge his body through, I gave up. I surrendered and tried to escape through the other door leading to the music room.

Just as I reached for the door to the next room, I was caught. Miura grabbed my right arm and yanked me back, causing me to stumble and fall backward to the ground. I felt dizzy. I had already been feeling unwell since the morning, and the full-on sprint had brought it all crashing down. The tall man pinned me down with his body, leaving me completely immobilized. Once I was unable to move, Miura kissed me as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He forced my lips open and invaded my mouth aggressively. I writhed in desperation, breaking free from his lips and shouted,

"Do you even know where we are?!"

There was no answer. Instead, he started to pull up my shirt, his hands touching my bare skin. Even though this floor was only for special classrooms, there was still a chance someone might pass by. And with the door still open… if anyone saw us, it would be a huge scandal. I might even have to quit my job. I slapped his broad, thin back with both hands, resisting as much as I could. Miura paused his kiss for a moment to catch his breath and smiled faintly, as if enjoying himself.

“What could possibly be fun about this?”

I didn’t want to think about it, but I felt like a dying mouse being toyed with by a cat. It was a horrible thought.

“Do you think I’m enjoying this?”

He threw the question back at me. But it seemed he wasn’t really expecting an answer, because before I could say anything, he kissed me again, deeper this time.

“There’s nothing fun about being with you. I’d much rather be alone. But when I do this, it feels good.”

He pressed his face against my now-exposed chest.

“That’s just physical,” I said.

“And you only give me your body,” Miura replied as he raised himself up, looking down at me like a dying mouse.

“This place is off-limits, right?”

With his right hand, Miura pressed down firmly on my exposed left breast.

“You won’t give me sympathy, you won’t be my friend. You ignore me as if I don’t exist, and when I talk to you, you don’t respond. You won’t let me into your world.”

His hand, pressing against my chest, tightened into a grip, his fingers digging in painfully.

“But when I touch you, you’re warm. And when I touch you, your body responds. Whether you hate it or enjoy it, that’s much kinder.”

Miura remained still, his face buried in my chest. His head was heavy, pressing down on me, and I took shallow breaths to avoid being crushed. I wasn’t touching his head out of pity but rather out of some instinct of self-preservation, placing my hands gently on it. Miura’s head trembled slightly, and he hugged me even tighter.

“If you leave now, I might never be able to find you again.”

He slowly got up, pulling me to my feet. We sat down facing each other in the corner of the room, silently staring at each other’s faces. Miura’s fingers fixed the disheveled front of my shirt and tucked the untucked hem back into my slacks.

“Are you coming back tonight?”

Did he know about the bag I had packed?

“…Yeah, I’ll come back.”

“I see. Then that’s fine.”

A sigh brushed past my ear. Miura stood up and muttered, “Sorry about that.”

The man who had chased after me in a panic when he realized I was gone. The man who had predicted I would try to run. We walked down the stairs together. The quiet staircase. Only when we reached the second floor did we start hearing the sounds of people.

“You probably would have been better off never meeting me,” Miura murmured, stopping one step short of the bottom.

“I probably shouldn’t have met you either. I’ve had enough of this pathetic behavior.”

He looked down, falling silent.

“But, well, it can’t be helped, can it?”

He looked up and gave a bitter smile.

“Well, see you later.”

He tapped my shoulder lightly before walking down the stairs quickly. I felt like there was something I needed to say, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember what it was.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

A sense of the night lingered in the air. The clock on the side table read 2:00 a.m. I must have fallen asleep during it, leaving my body damp with sweat, not even wearing any underwear. It had been a month since I’d given up on running away or resisting, and our lazy, drawn-out relationship had continued. I didn’t want to acknowledge it, but my body had grown accustomed to his touch, and it no longer caused me as much pain.

The man beside me breathed steadily in his sleep. His eyebrows twitched slightly. I wondered what kind of dream he was having. His eyelids fluttered as if in a spasm, and he woke up. Half-asleep, he pulled me closer with his right hand.

“Twenty times.”

He whispered into my ear. Not understanding, I tilted my head, and he smiled with just his mouth.

“The number of times we’ve done it so far.”

When I tried to slip out of bed, he laughed out loud.

“Sorry for teasing you.”

He wrapped his arms around me, biting my ear gently. It was a playful gesture, like kittens playing, as his fingers toyed with my pubic hair, stroking my lower abdomen insistently.

“We’ve done it so many times. You should’ve gotten pregnant by now.”

It was hard to tell if he was serious or joking.

“Well, I guess it’s no use complaining about it.”

There was nothing to complain about, and it was impossible anyway.

“You’ve been a bit kinder lately.”

He flipped me onto my back and climbed on top of me, staring into my eyes as he spoke.

“Just a little.”

Miura was smiling, but I couldn’t bring myself to smile back. I wanted to know how giving up on resisting could be interpreted as being “kind.” Did he think I was enjoying this? Even though I was being robbed and forced into it.

I decided not to count the shadows in the dark out of fear of his gaze anymore. I wouldn’t try to analyze this relationship, which was neither friendship nor love. There would never be an answer anyway.

Among all the choices, was there ever a possibility that I might have changed?

Footnotes

0. Content warning: NSFW, dub-con, r*pe.

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