Secret: Chapter 1 - Part 4

The content warning is in the footnotes⁰.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

Keita woke up at dawn. In the pale, bluish light of the room, he found himself staring blankly at the face of the man sleeping beside him. It surprised him that they had slept so close together, and he was even more bewildered that the man had wiped him down after sex. Yanagisawa would usually just take a quick shower after finishing, leaving Keita alone.

To be honest, Keita hadn’t expected much from sex with Mitsuru. That’s why he was so astonished at how much he’d actually felt. The lingering sensation of climax still tingled on his skin. Was it an exaggeration to say that he had glimpsed a different world?

Was he just promiscuous for feeling this much with a man he didn’t even like? Or was Mitsuru simply that skilled? As he lay there, groggy and sluggish, Keita wondered why he had slept with this man in the first place. His thoughts sluggishly churned: His friend had gone back home for the holidays, leaving him without a place to stay... and he had been plagued by relentless nightmares. But come to think of it, he hadn’t dreamt of Yanagisawa that night.

Keita exhaled softly and buried his face in the sheets. His body felt heavy, as if filled with lead. He couldn’t feel his lower back at all. He’d been shaken so hard, over and over, both front and back, that he’d thought he might break. Still lying on his stomach, he gingerly touched his hips, worried that he might not even be properly closed down there.

“What are you doing?” a voice from behind startled him. He quickly pulled his hand away from his anus.

“Does it hurt there?”

“It doesn’t hurt, but it’s numb.”

Mitsuru sat up, and with both hands, he spread Keita’s buttocks, peering inside.

“Stop it, don’t!” Keita protested.

“Hold still. I can’t see,” Mitsuru replied, ignoring Keita’s resistance as he continued to inspect.

“It’s a little red, but there’s no injury,” Mitsuru finally said, releasing Keita’s hips.

“Okay, I get it,” Keita mumbled. But Mitsuru didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned over Keita, wrapping his arms around him from underneath, pressing their bodies together as he kissed the nape of Keita’s neck.

Keita squirmed, ticklish, but Mitsuru followed his movements. Eventually, they ended up face-to-face, their eyes meeting. Just when Keita thought Mitsuru might kiss him, he did exactly that—a gentle kiss, as if it were a natural extension of petting or holding hands.

“Utsumi Keita,” Mitsuru whispered his name into Keita’s ear, repeating it three times with a joyful tone. “I’ve memorized your name now. I’ll never forget it.”

What’s the big deal? Keita would have thought yesterday. But now, he found Mitsuru’s childlike way of speaking and the repeated sound of his name strangely comforting. Could one night of sex really change how he viewed someone so much? Mitsuru gently stroked Keita’s hair by his ear.

“I like your face with glasses. But I also like your face without them.”

Mitsuru’s affectionate words and kisses on Keita’s eyelids and nose were suddenly followed by a blunt question: “How was the sex with me?” The question instantly broke the mood. When Keita turned his head away and said, “It was fine,” Mitsuru seemed unsatisfied. He grabbed Keita’s shoulders and shook him.

“Was I bad at it?”

Keita didn’t want to admit how good it had been, how it was more intense than anything he’d ever experienced. When he ignored Mitsuru, the man hugged him tightly from behind.

“If you don’t answer, I won’t know. Tell me what you like. I want to do it in a way that makes you feel the best. That’s what I want.”

Keita felt a pang in his chest. In all his past experiences, sex had always been something done to him, never something where his input was considered. Yanagisawa had been unilateral, only asking, “It feels good, right?” without ever asking how Keita felt.

“It wasn’t anything you disliked, right? Tell me.”

Keita forcefully pulled away from the man clinging to him and turned to face him. When he was a little cold toward him, Mitsuru looked like he was about to cry. Mitsuru was so bad with timing, clumsy, and slow to learn. Despite being an adult, he spoke like a child.

Keita wrapped his arms around Mitsuru’s neck and kissed him. He kissed the way he wanted to kiss. At first, Mitsuru’s hands hesitated, but then they tightened around Keita’s back.

“What you did was fine,” Keita whispered in Mitsuru’s ear. “Sex like last night’s was good.”

Keita had a feeling that, with this man, he could be honest, and he wouldn’t be mocked or laughed at.

“I’m glad,” Mitsuru breathed a sigh of relief, then suddenly shouted, “Ah!” Startled, Keita flinched. Mitsuru pulled him up and onto his lap.

“I actually meant to say this before we had sex, but I got so excited that I forgot,” Mitsuru said, looking up at Keita with those large, dark eyes.

“Please go out with me.”

Keita couldn’t meet Mitsuru’s gaze. “I think you’re my ‘soulmate,’” Mitsuru added.

Keita had no idea how to respond. He didn’t want to go back to that apartment with the freezer, didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want to have those nightmares again. For a moment, he considered that a physical relationship might make things easier. But then he felt disgusted with himself for being so manipulative. It was one thing to use someone just for their body, but to do so with someone who was genuinely confessing their feelings was beyond rude.

“I don’t even know if I like you, Mitsuru. How can you be so sure it’s fate? What if you’re wrong?” Keita said.

Impatient, Mitsuru shook him. “I just know it’s fate.”

There probably wasn’t any real logic behind that. Mitsuru was just convinced.

“Because out of everyone I’ve ever met, you’re the one I like the most.”

“That’s a lie.” Keita’s voice trembled with the denial.

“It’s not a lie. I love you. Why would I lie about that?”

Mitsuru repeated “I love you most” into Keita’s ear, and it made him feel restless. Mitsuru kissed him again, and as Keita surrendered to the pleasure, something else made him want to cry. It felt good, but there was also a deep sadness that made him want to weep. He was happy, but this wasn’t the person he had wanted to hear these words from. Even if Yanagisawa said them now, Keita doubted he could forgive him.

His fingers trembled. Before he realized it, tears were streaming down his face. Mitsuru noticed and asked repeatedly if something hurt or if he had said something wrong, but Keita couldn’t answer. Before long, Mitsuru started crying too. When Keita asked why, Mitsuru muttered that he felt sad because Keita was crying.

What is with this guy? Keita thought, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny that, for a fleeting moment, he had felt an overwhelming affection for Mitsuru.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

At a little past eight, Sugiura Mitsuru left for his part-time job. Right up until the moment he stepped out the door, he clung to Keita’s clothes, repeatedly asking, “You’ll still be here when I get back tonight, right?” After Mitsuru was gone, Keita caught up on some much-needed sleep. When he awoke before noon, hungry, he realized he hadn’t dreamt of Yanagisawa again.

He left the room and crossed the living room. The quiet made him think no one else was home, but then Enomoto emerged from the kitchen, cigarette in mouth, narrowing his eyes in a way that made him look annoyed. Until he saw him, Keita had completely forgotten about the real owner of the apartment.

“Sorry for intruding…” Keita couldn’t just ignore him, so he spoke up. Enomoto stared at him silently for a moment before asking, rather abruptly, “Want some coffee?” There was something in his tone that made Keita feel like he couldn’t refuse, so he responded, “Yes, please.”

“Just sit wherever,” Enomoto said, and Keita settled onto the living room sofa. The coffee was soon brought over, and while it smelled nice, it was incredibly bitter. Enomoto sat across from him, sighing languidly. They weren’t talking, yet just sitting across from each other made Keita strangely tense. When they had spoken last time, Enomoto had given off a friendly and gentle impression, but now he seemed unapproachable. Keita had no idea what kind of conversation to start.

“He’s good in bed, isn’t he?”

The bluntness of Enomoto’s comment was so jarring that Keita nearly dropped his cup.

“He’s had plenty of practice,” Enomoto continued.

Keita had never talked to anyone about his relationship with Yanagisawa. Even if the person was into that sort of thing, discussing the details of sexual acts still made him uncomfortable.

“He’s good at sex, and maybe you find him easy to manage because he’s so straightforward, but if you’re just using him as a stopgap until you find someone else, I’d appreciate it if you could let him go now.”

Enomoto crossed his long legs.

“After you left that rainy day, he scolded me, you know. He kept asking why I didn’t get your name and phone number. No matter how much I explained that you ran out so suddenly that I didn’t have the chance, he wouldn’t accept it.”

Enomoto reached for the cigarettes on the table and lit one.

“He’s not the type to get angry over something like that, so it surprised me. He’s usually pretty good about knowing when to back off in relationships, but it seems you’re special to him,” Enomoto said, speaking in a detached manner.

“The kind of love he wants—someone who would give up everything for him when the time comes—is just an ideal. He’s been burned by relationships enough times that you’d think he would have learned by now, but he hasn’t. I think he’s watched too many romance movies. He can’t distinguish between fiction and reality.”

Enomoto stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.

“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with a relationship based on pleasure, but as Mitsuru’s guardian, I’d rather you didn’t get involved with him if you’re not prepared to take it seriously.”

Keita couldn’t say a word in response. It was as if Enomoto could see right through his half-hearted feelings, and it terrified him. Yet, at the same time, he felt a surge of defiance. Enomoto might call himself Mitsuru’s guardian, but Mitsuru was an adult. He was far too old to have a guardian meddling in his love life.

“You know he didn’t go to high school, right?”

Keita unconsciously raised his head.

“Do you know why?”

Keita shook his head. Enomoto chuckled as he walked over to sit beside him. His gaze was piercing, as if he were sizing Keita up, and it was profoundly unsettling.

“If it’s just physical, I could keep you company,” Enomoto said.

Keita shot up from the sofa and bolted into Mitsuru’s room. He was furious that Enomoto had called out his impure motives and mocked him. It wasn’t that he had no feelings for Mitsuru—otherwise, he wouldn’t have slept with him. But it was also true that he couldn’t say with certainty that he loved him.

There was a knock on the door. Keita turned around just as it opened. Enomoto stood in the doorway, arms crossed, and flashed a friendly smile, just like when they had first met.

“I got home from work at seven this morning. How long do you plan on staying here?”

“You’ll still be here when I get back tonight, right?” Mitsuru’s words echoed in Keita’s mind, leaving him unable to respond. Enomoto shrugged slightly, still with his arms crossed.

“Let me be honest. I can’t sleep with strangers in the house.”

◇:*:◆:*:◇

At night, I ambushed Sugiura in front of the apartment complex and went with him to the apartment that was supposedly fixed. I had given him a different phone number, and I never asked for his number or email, so unless I made the first move, we wouldn't have met. I didn’t consider not meeting him, partly out of stubbornness toward Enomoto. It felt wrong to back down just because he said so.

I didn’t tell Sugiura that Enomoto had kicked me out of his apartment. When I suggested we go to a hotel because I couldn’t relax with other people around, Sugiura mentioned the apartment had been cleaned up, so we headed there. The strong smell of new wallpaper was overpowering, and though Sugiura playfully snuggled up to me like a cat, he soon fell asleep, exhausted, without doing anything.

Before 8 AM, Sugiura handed me the keys, saying the water and electricity were working, and then left for his part-time job. After sleeping in again, I woke up in the afternoon, bought some bread and bottled tea at a convenience store, and ate in the empty room. It wasn’t until after I’d finished eating that I realized there wasn’t even a trash can to throw things away.

I asked the landlord to unlock the room on the first floor, which had been used as a storage room. Since I had helped with the move, I knew which items belonged to Sugiura. I started carrying the lighter things up to the room. I hadn’t been asked to clean up, but for some reason, I just wanted to.

By the time the afternoon turned into evening, I had moved all of the belongings, except for the fridge, into the room. After going up and down the stairs so many times, I was exhausted, so I lay down to rest and ended up falling asleep.

I woke up to the feeling of a kiss. Gentle eyes were looking down at me. Sugiura must have taken a shower after coming back from work, as he was bare-chested and smelled faintly of soap. As we gazed at each other, I suddenly noticed the soft sensation beneath my back. I was lying on a mattress.

“This...” When I muttered, Sugiura nodded slightly.

“I just bought it. I thought your back might hurt, Keita.”

As I smiled, his eyes, which were staring straight at me, gradually welled up with tears that soon overflowed and rolled down his cheeks.

“I’m so happy,” his thin lips moved.

“I was so happy when I thought you cleaned up the room for me, Keita. I cried because I was happy, and then I cried again because I was happy I could cry.”

He ran his fingers through my hair.

“Thank you.”

Hearing that made me feel embarrassed, and I looked down. I didn’t do it to be thanked. But still, being told “thank you” made me honestly happy.

“I really love you. I love you, Keita.”

There was no reason to refuse the hand extended to me with love. I felt a bit shy undressing, but also happy. I wanted to embrace him quickly, so I reached out myself. The sex I received felt so good that my body melted from the core. Even though both my body and heart were full and I should have slept peacefully, I had a terrible dream.

The freezer had been knocked over. When did someone play such a prank? Panicking, I approached to set it upright, but the door suddenly opened. A semi-transparent plastic bag tumbled out. Something was thrashing about inside the bag, unable to escape because the mouth was tightly sealed.

I heard an angry groan from inside. That bag would tear open someday. I turned on my heels and tried to leave the room, but suddenly, my legs became as heavy as lead, and I couldn’t move. If I didn’t hurry, I’d be caught. I’d be caught. I tried to grab my right leg with both hands and force myself forward, but it was no use. As I looked down, I noticed a large shadow overlapping my own, and my whole body tensed. An icy cold hand grabbed my right arm.

“Hee!”

I woke up with a scream, my body being violently shaken. I was terrified, just blindly terrified, and I desperately tried to push away the man who was hovering over me. I hit and kicked with all my might, but no matter how much I resisted, the source of my fear wouldn’t leave me. Lying face down on the sheets, I clutched my head. I could feel someone on my back and hear a voice calling my name by my ear.

“Keita, Keita.”

The voice was different. The voice wasn’t from something scary. I hesitantly looked back. What I saw wasn’t a cold corpse but a living, breathing body.

“Are you okay?”

He touched my hair with a worried expression. I clung to his neck. My body was still trembling from the lingering fear. As if trying to soothe me, a warm hand gently stroked my back over and over. I opened my eyes and looked around carefully. An unfamiliar ceiling. A window. This wasn’t my room. The digital clock by my head displayed 6 AM.

“You were really having a bad dream.”

Sugiura’s right cheek was slightly red. As I wondered why, it dawned on me that it was because I had thrashed around.

“Did I hit you? Sorry.”

When I touched his red cheek, he squinted his right eye. I quickly pulled my finger back, startled. Despite the pained look he had, he smiled and said, “It doesn’t hurt.”

“I’m really sorry. I had a bad dream.”

Sugiura tilted his head.

“What kind of dream was it?”

When I silently looked down, he pulled me close and gently stroked my head.

“You won’t have bad dreams anymore. My baku will enter your dreams and munch away all the bad ones.”

When I said, “That’s a myth,” Sugiura licked my earlobe and told me, “Believe me.”

“If you believe or wish hard enough, it will really happen.”

Kissing, embracing, we spent our time together like real lovers. Even though I had woken up from the worst nightmare, I gradually forgot about it and became absorbed in playing around with him. The soft touch of his fingers felt so good that I wanted him to keep touching me.

When asked if I liked him, I could only say I didn’t really know. But still, this guy was good. I wasn’t sure what others thought of him, but I felt like he was a good match for me.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

The word "love" seemed to hold more value because it was rarely spoken. At least, that's what Keita thought. As he spent more time with Sugiura, he began to find comfort in the "love" expressed through his expressions, actions, and words. Even when repeated, it never lost its value.

At first, he was honestly disappointed, thinking Sugiura might be the kind of guy who didn't even read books. But even a man who didn't read wasn't boring to be around, and it didn't matter if they didn't have shared topics of conversation. Above all, Sugiura was kind, both in words and in touch.

On the sixth day after returning to the renovated apartment, it was already mid-August. That day, it seemed Sugiura had the day off from his part-time job, as even after 8 a.m., the apartment’s owner hadn't gotten out of bed and was still playfully clinging to Keita on the mattress. They lazed around until after 10 a.m. before finally getting up. As Keita got dressed, Sugiura asked, "Do you like pasta?" When Keita responded with a "yes," Sugiura tilted his head and asked, "If I make it, will you eat it?"

Keita didn't ask if he could cook because when they moved the luggage into the apartment, he had seen that there were serious pots and pans.

"If it’s good, I’ll eat it," Keita said jokingly, to which Sugiura replied with a serious face, "I think it will be."

"I sometimes make meals for the restaurant staff. Everyone says they’re good."

"You mean at the place where you work part-time?"

"Yes. It’s an Italian restaurant along the national highway. The main dishes are pasta and pizza, and they also serve course meals at night."

Sugiura rubbed his nose against Keita’s neck, making him curl up in ticklishness.

"I can’t make the dishes we serve to customers, but I always watch the owner cook, so I can make it."

Since they didn’t have any ingredients to cook with, the two of them went shopping. Without thinking, they stepped outside into the blazing sun. Even though it was a short distance, the piercing sunlight was intense, and Keita felt slightly dizzy. Suddenly, something was placed on his head. It was Sugiura’s hat.

"If you get too hot, you’ll lose your mind."

"But what about you, Sugiura?"

"I’m already like that, so it’s okay."

Unable to find the right way to refute this somewhat unsettling comment, they continued walking along the sidewalk under the highway overpass. As they approached the convenience store, Sugiura suddenly let out a small "ah" and crouched down. He had picked up a 100-yen coin. After looking around carefully, he said, "Wait here for a moment," and ran off, returning about five minutes later.

"Where did you go?"

"The police box. I turned in the money."

Was he serious about such a small amount? The police probably found it more of a nuisance.

"With just 100 yen, the person who dropped it might not even notice."

"That might be true. But it wasn’t my money. Besides, lost items are supposed to be turned into the police."

When Keita didn’t respond, Sugiura looked worried and asked, "I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?" Keita replied with a "no," but couldn’t shake the feeling of discomfort. It wasn’t wrong, but most adults would have just pocketed it. Or maybe they wouldn’t have bothered picking up such small change. While there was nothing wrong with this childlike sense of justice, it felt a bit off.

After walking for about ten minutes, they reached a supermarket across the bridge. Sugiura bought some ingredients Keita had never heard of, as well as some vegetables. Even though the total came to just over 2,000 yen, he paid with a 10,000-yen bill despite having plenty of 1,000-yen bills in his wallet.

"Are you saving 1,000-yen bills?"

Keita asked as they left the supermarket, and Sugiura tilted his head.

"Because you used a 10,000-yen bill even though you had a lot of 1,000-yen bills."

"Oh... yeah. I’m saving them."

After saying that, Sugiura fell silent with his head slightly bowed. Keita wondered what he was saving the 1,000-yen bills for. Maybe his part-time job sometimes ran short on change.

As they reached the area near the private railway station, someone suddenly called out, "Utsumi."

"Oh, it really is you."

It was Ikeda, a senior from university, with a childlike height. Keita never expected to run into him here.

"What are you doing?"

With a suntanned face, Ikeda flashed a big smile. Keita instinctively looked up at Sugiura.

"Um, I’m just visiting a friend’s place... What are you doing, Senpai?"

"Me? I’m doing a delivery job. The pay’s pretty good."

Ikeda wiped his forehead with the towel around his neck, then suddenly clapped his hands together.

"Oh, that’s right! Would you buy a ticket for the play? It’s the one I wrote the script for last time."

Keita felt a jolt. That “place” must be the theater group Yanagisawa belonged to.

"I’ve been asked to sell them, but it’s tough. Even just one ticket would help."

Ikeda put his hands together in front of his face. Keita, who had reluctantly sold Yanagisawa’s quota of tickets in the past, knew all too well how tough it was. But he didn’t want to see any more tickets for the theater group Yanagisawa had been a part of.

If he flatly refused, it would be awkward. Keita lowered his head and said, "Sorry, I’m really short on money this month." Ikeda looked disappointed and said, "Oh, I see," lowering his head.

"What kind of tickets are you selling?"

Sugiura, who was meeting Ikeda for the first time, suddenly spoke up, surprising Ikeda.

"Huh? They’re for a theater play. I think it’s supposed to be a serious drama."

"Can I buy them?"

Ikeda’s expression instantly brightened.

"Of course!"

Hurriedly, Ikeda pulled out the tickets from his wallet. Once again, Sugiura used a 10,000-yen bill to buy two tickets.

"Are you interested in theater?"

Ikeda asked, and Sugiura tilted his head.

"I’ve never seen a play, but it’s kind of like a movie, right?"

"Plays have way more impact than movies."

"But unlike movies, you can’t rewind and watch them over again. I wonder if I’ll be able to remember the story."

"It’ll be fine," Ikeda said with a big smile. Then, after checking his watch, he waved his right hand at Keita, saying, "I’ve got to go make a delivery, so see you around," and got into the car parked by the side of the road.

Back at the apartment, Sugiura immediately started cooking. Keita offered to help, but Sugiura told him, "I can manage by myself," so Keita returned to the room. He tried to read the new paperback he had bought, but couldn’t concentrate and soon closed it. He counted the days on his fingers. He couldn’t remember exactly, but it must have been about a month since he killed Yanagisawa.

If there was a play, then the theater group would be rehearsing. Someone in the group must have noticed that Yanagisawa hadn’t shown up. Wouldn’t they be worried and start looking for him? After a month, rent and utility bills would start piling up. The landlord would contact Yanagisawa’s family, who were listed as guarantors, and then they would find out that Yanagisawa was really "gone." But it’s okay, it’s okay, Keita reassured himself.

Yanagisawa had disappeared. As long as the body didn’t turn up, it was just a disappearance. Even if a missing persons report was filed, the police wouldn’t act unless there was evidence of foul play. That’s what it said in a mystery novel Keita had read before.

"Keita, it’s ready."

He looked up. Before he knew it, a beautifully arranged dish was set on the table in front of him. Still holding thoughts of Yanagisawa at the back of his mind, he picked up a fork.

"How is it?"

Smiling wryly at the man who asked for his opinion before he even took a bite, Keita brought the pasta to his lips. Even if it didn’t taste good, he was prepared to express gratitude for the effort Sugiura had put into making it. But the food was so delicious that it made him forget such courtesies. Not just the pasta, but the marinade and even the simple dessert were all excellent. When he sincerely said, “It was delicious,” Sugiura smiled happily and said, “I’m glad.”

“If you can cook this well, you could open a restaurant.”

Sugiura shook his head.

“I just copy what I see others do. Besides, I don’t have a chef’s license.”

“You should get certified.”

Sugiura muttered, “It’s fine,” and looked down. Keita suddenly recalled Enomoto’s words: “Mitsuru didn’t go to high school” Perhaps Sugiura couldn’t attend culinary school because he didn’t have a high school diploma. Keita wasn’t familiar with such circumstances, having no acquaintances who started working straight out of junior high, and having gone to a college-preparatory high school himself. He wondered if Sugiura had family problems… But then, there are night schools and correspondence high schools. Even now, he could still get a high school diploma.

“Oh, right,” Sugiura said, standing up and coming back with his wallet. He took out the tickets he had just bought and handed them to Keita.

“Let’s go see this together.”

When Keita didn’t take them, Sugiura placed them in front of him.

“I’ve never seen a play before, but I want to go see one with you, Keita.”

“And,” Sugiura continued, “I want to watch the same thing and feel the same emotions together.”

“I’m not a fan of plays,” Keita said curtly, and Sugiura’s face immediately fell with a sad expression. Guilt began to creep in. Keita had somewhat anticipated this reaction when Sugiura bought the tickets from Ikeda. But he hadn’t stopped him because it made him feel less awkward about not buying them himself.

“Go to the play with someone else. Instead, let’s go see a movie. I’ll treat you to whatever movie you want to see.”

Sugiura’s expression remained stiff, and he didn’t agree.

“You like movies, right?”

“I don’t want to see foreign films with subtitles in a theater, and I’m not a fan of Japanese movies.”

It felt like he was sulking. He had spent money on tickets, only to be told they wouldn’t go, so now they’d go to waste. But Keita had already offered a compromise by suggesting they go see a movie instead.

“Fine, no movie then,” Keita said, turning his back on Sugiura and walking away from the table. He picked up the paperback he had thrown aside earlier. Even though he tried to ignore the man behind him, he couldn’t stop thinking about him, and the situation was frustrating.

Before five minutes had passed, he heard Sugiura apologize. Keita turned around, feigning indifference, and was surprised to see Sugiura’s eyes filled with big, teary droplets.

“I’m sorry,” Sugiura said as tears began to fall.

“I’m sorry. I won’t be selfish anymore, so please don’t hate me. I’ll go to the movie. I’ll go, I promise.”

Who was being selfish? Not going to the play or not going to the movie—there probably wasn’t much difference.

“You don’t have to cry.”

Keita was both surprised by Sugiura’s childishness and puzzled by his terrifyingly honest side. He pulled Sugiura close, kissed him, and comforted him with his whole body. When Sugiura finally stopped crying, the sun was starting to set. But then Sugiura said, “The day is ending,” and began crying again.

“I had so many things I wanted to do with you, Keita, but now the day is ending.”

Keita had no choice but to console him, saying they could do it next time.

“I’m always only with you at night because I get home late, and I don’t want to only know you through sex. I like sex, but I want to spend time with you during the day too. I want shared memories. I want to see and feel the same things. I want to know more, teach me, tell me, over and over, until it’s firmly rooted in my memory.”

Sugiura’s embrace wasn’t strong, but the intensity of his feelings stirred Keita’s mind into a frenzy. It was a mix of emotions—cuteness, annoyance, purity, awkwardness—all blending together into a sweet, bitter, and indescribable feeling that filled his entire being.

In the end, they had sex. It was a sentimental kind of sex, tinged with the lingering emotions of their minor quarrel that couldn’t even be called a fight. Keita felt as if tomorrow might be the end of the world, and he genuinely thought that if it were, this was the man he wanted to be with.

In the middle of the night, Keita woke up. Sugiura was still sleeping. Feeling an overwhelming urge to write, Keita pulled over the backpack he had left in the corner of the room. He took out a binder notebook and, still naked, began writing under the light of a desk lamp. The story started on a midsummer street and would end at a winter sea. His imagination was running ahead of his ability to write, and it was frustrating. As he filled the first page of the notebook, he felt a jolt on his back.

“What are you doing?” Sugiura asked, embracing him from behind.

“I thought of a story.”

“A novel?”

Sensing Sugiura trying to peek over his shoulder, Keita quickly covered the notebook with both hands. He remembered how Yanagisawa had read his work before and told him it wasn’t interesting.

“It’s still in progress.”

“Read it to me.”

“No way, that’s embarrassing.”

After playfully shaking Keita, Sugiura asked, “Is it a love story?”

“Yeah. Well, that’s not all it is, but…”

“No matter how tough things get in the middle, make sure the two characters end up happy together in the end. Don’t let them die or break up, okay?”

Sugiura kept pleading with Keita to make it a happy ending, so Keita reluctantly agreed, saying, “Okay.” Then Sugiura kissed him from behind, touching him intimately, and Keita’s urge to write faded away. He eventually dropped the ballpoint pen and wrapped his arms around Sugiura’s neck.The urge to write was overpowered by the man’s scent, which stimulated something deep within him.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

Footnotes

0. Content warning: NSFW.

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