Utsukushii Koto: Side story chapter 2

T.N: This side story was originally published at the end of Volume 2. However, in the timeline of the story, it makes more sense to place it at the end of the Booklet. For that reason, I have placed it here.

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It was a Saturday, and Hiromatsu had decided to sleep in until noon at his boyfriend’s place. As he lay there, the ringtone of a phone stirred the sleeping Matsuoka in his arms. Reaching over to the bedside, Matsuoka grabbed the device.

"Yes, Matsuoka speaking."

The brief moment of separation made Hiromatsu feel cold, and he instinctively pulled the warmth back into his arms. Matsuoka squirmed a little and hunched his shoulders as if it tickled.

"Shinozaki? What’s going on this early?"

Though it was already past ten, Matsuoka’s tone implied it was still morning to him. From the smartphone, a tense voice leaked faintly into the room. As the caller’s flustered tone grew more urgent, Matsuoka’s body gradually tensed up.

"Then what the hell did you do?!"

Startled by the sudden sharpness in Matsuoka’s voice, Hiromatsu flinched more than the one being yelled at.

"If they told you not to come back, that’s obvious! Go apologize to the client directly and bow your damn head!"

Matsuoka slipped from Hiromatsu’s arms and left the room stark naked. Staring at the closed bedroom door, Hiromatsu felt the lingering comfort of morning haze vanish completely, and he was wide awake.

He got up from the bed and pulled on the clothes they’d left scattered on the floor the night before. Picking up Matsuoka’s pajama top, he left the bedroom. Sure enough, there Matsuoka stood in the living room, still naked, speaking with a harsh tone over the phone.

"That’s how you show sincerity. Don’t treat the things people can’t see as unnecessary."

He draped the pajama top over Matsuoka’s back, which looked so cold. Matsuoka turned around, startled, and Hiromatsu gave his shoulder a gentle stroke before quietly returning to the bedroom. It didn’t feel like he should be within earshot of the call.

About ten or fifteen minutes later, Matsuoka opened the door to the bedroom.

"Sorry I was loud. And… thanks for this," he said, clutching the pajama top to his chest.

"You okay?"

When asked, Matsuoka gave a wry smile.

"I’m heading to the office. Sorry, even though you came all the way here."

It’s Saturday—Hiromatsu wanted to say, but he didn’t.

"It’s fine. Don’t worry about me."

His nose gave a sudden twitch. Though Matsuoka was the one who looked cold, it was Hiromatsu who sneezed three times in a row.

"You okay? Are you getting sick?"

Even before coming to Tokyo, he’d had a lingering cough. Trying to ease Matsuoka’s concern, he smiled and said, "I’m fine, really."

After a shower, Matsuoka changed into his suit. Just watching him get dressed, watching that bare skin disappear beneath his clothes, made the whole process seem oddly erotic.

With his tie pulled tight and everything neat, Matsuoka reached out to touch Hiromatsu’s right hand.

"I’m heading out now."

"Take care."

"I’ll call before I head back."

"Okay."

Hiromatsu gave his reply mid-sneeze. Matsuoka walked over to the closet, opened the door, and pulled something from the top drawer on the far right.

"It’s just over-the-counter cold medicine, but it works pretty well. With this kind of thing, it’s best to act early."

"Ah, thank you."

After handing him the box, Matsuoka touched Hiromatsu’s hair one more time, reluctantly, then left the apartment.

Hiromatsu was the type to take a long time shaking a cold once he got it. He’d heard it was most effective to take medicine at the first sign of symptoms, so he took three tablets, following the dosage instructions.

He had seen clearly where Matsuoka had retrieved the medicine from, and figured he’d return it to its place. Heading over to the closet, he opened the top right drawer—and tilted his head. The drawer was neatly organized, and there was no room for a medicine box.

Had it been the second drawer instead? No, he was sure it had been the top one.

Near the front sat a square, leather-covered box. Assuming it must be a medicine case, he picked it up. When he opened the lid, he let out a wry chuckle. Matsuoka had good taste, so it wouldn’t have surprised him if even the medicine box were leather-bound and stylish—but that wasn’t the case.

…It was a watch case.

Hiromatsu had always worn the blue-dialed watch that Matsuoka had given him. He hadn’t used anything else since. Matsuoka, on the other hand, didn’t seem attached to just one. He switched watches according to what he wore, and in the rectangularly partitioned case sat a neatly arranged row of stylish timepieces.

Hiromatsu closed the lid of the box and slid it back into the drawer. But the box wouldn’t sit quite right—it tilted at an angle. Something must’ve slipped underneath. Reaching into the back of the drawer, Hiromatsu pulled out a slim, rectangular wooden box. Probably another watch case, he thought. Casually opening the lid, he gasped.

“Eh—”

Inside lay a watch that looked hopelessly out of place among Matsuoka’s sleek collection—plain, oddly clunky, unfashionable. Without thinking, Hiromatsu picked it up. The scratched-up dial, the worn caramel-colored leather band… there was no doubt. This was his watch.

Last year—during that camping trip—he’d lost it. At least, he thought he had. But why was it here, in Matsuoka’s drawer?

Matsuoka must’ve picked it up after he’d lost it. Then why hadn’t he returned it? Did he recognize it as Hiromatsu’s, or had he simply brought it home without knowing?

Inside the wooden box was lined with a soft, velvet-like fabric. The watch rested in it gently, as though it had been laid to sleep.

As Hiromatsu held the watch, the memory of that night resurfaced. Matsuoka had left the room in the middle of the night and never came back. When Hiromatsu went looking for him, he found him sleeping in the car. He’d been relieved to find him—but at the same time, angry. …Now, he wondered, how would he react?

If it were the present him standing there, what would he say to that version of Matsuoka? He thought about it. And in doing so, realized how much had changed.

:-::-:

Matsuoka returned a little after two in the afternoon. From the tired look on his face and the sharp edge to his silence, Hiromatsu could guess what had happened—one of Matsuoka’s subordinates must’ve messed something up, and he'd had to go along to apologize to the client. It wasn’t hard to imagine. But whether the apology had been accepted, whether the outcome had been salvaged—Hiromatsu didn’t feel right asking.

He himself had only nibbled on a slice of bread that morning, and Matsuoka had eaten nothing. It was too late for lunch and too early for dinner, and neither of them had the energy to cook, so they decided to go out for something.

During the meal, Matsuoka hardly said a word. He tried now and then, clearly making an effort to speak out of consideration for Hiromatsu, but his thoughts kept drifting back to work, and he’d soon fall silent again. This wasn’t the right time to bring up the watch, Hiromatsu thought, and he, too, stayed quiet.

When they returned to the apartment, Hiromatsu got the sense that Matsuoka was watching him.

“What?”

He asked, and Matsuoka just said, “Nothing.”

Still, something about it nagged at him.

“What is it?” he asked again.

“I thought maybe you were mad at me.”

The answer caught him off guard.

“I’m not mad,” Hiromatsu said.

“I mean… you came all this way, and then I left you by yourself.”

Hiromatsu chuckled.

“I’m not a child. I was fine. And I know you had a reason.”

He pulled Matsuoka into a hug, and Matsuoka closed his eyes, visibly relaxing into the warmth. It made Hiromatsu want to continue where they’d left off the night before. He let his fingertips trace along Matsuoka’s hand, and quietly asked, “Can I?”

Matsuoka’s cheeks flushed a pale red, and he cast his gaze down.

“I’ll take a shower first.”

“You don’t need to.”

Hiromatsu took his hand gently in his own and led him wordlessly toward the bedroom.

:-::-:

Because they’d eaten at a strange hour and ended up in bed not long after, it was no surprise that by a little past nine, Hiromatsu's stomach began to growl. Still tangled up together beneath the sheets, naked and lazy, they started tossing around.

“Should we order something?”

It was casual, light—and maybe because they were both at ease now, it felt like the right moment to bring something else up. Something that had been sitting in the back of his mind all day.

“Thanks for the medicine this morning.”

At that, Matsuoka reached out and pressed his palm lightly to Hiromatsu’s forehead, as if to confirm something.

“No fever.”

“Yeah. Just a bit of coughing earlier. When I went to put the pills away, I opened the closet drawer and… I found the watch.”

Matsuoka’s face changed instantly. His expression, which had been relaxed and gentle just a moment ago, stiffened with guilt.

“I—I’m sorry.”

Just that was enough to tell Hiromatsu the truth. Matsuoka had known about it. He’d had it all along. But Hiromatsu only reached over and softly ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m not mad,” he said. “Honestly, I’d already forgotten I even lost it. And now, the one you gave me feels more natural on my wrist anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” Matsuoka said again, voice barely audible. “I meant to give it back. I really did. But…”

He curled in on himself, like something small and scared. His eyes were glassy with tears. Hiromatsu kissed them away.

“That old watch… I’m giving it to you.”

“But…”

“If you want it, it’s yours. It’s old. I don’t need it anymore. So please don’t hide it anymore.”

“I’m sor... sorry…”

“You don’t have to cry.”

It had just been an old watch. But Matsuoka had stored it in a fine, velvet-lined box, tucked into the back of a drawer as if it were something precious.

He pressed his lips gently to Matsuoka’s ear, brushed back the damp fringe clinging to his temple, and whispered,

“Thank you… for keeping it safe all this time.”

THE END

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