Utsukushii Koto: Volume 2 - Part 2

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Maybe he should just go back to the countryside. Life in Tokyo—its intense expectations, the pressure of navigating human relationships—had worn him down.

His parents still lived in a fishing village in Kansai, running a small seafood processing plant that his older brother and sister-in-law had inherited. The business didn’t bring in much profit, but it was enough to sustain the family.

They already had enough hands at the plant, and if he moved back, it would just mean more mouths to feed. And even if he wanted to look for work, the limited options in a rural town were obvious.

Lying around made him hungry. He hadn’t eaten anything all day, and he was getting tired of feeling sluggish. Pulling a down jacket over his tracksuit, he headed out. At a bookstore, he found a job magazine that was easier to browse than his phone, so he picked up a copy. As he wandered the aisles, he noticed a novel he’d meant to read years ago had just been released in paperback. He bought that too on impulse.

He considered going for a walk to clear his head, but a flurry of snow had started falling. The sky had been gray all day, the air biting. It had seemed inevitable.

At the convenience store, he grabbed a new résumé pack and a bento, then headed straight home. He was just turning the last corner, the apartment building coming into view, when the phone in his pocket started ringing.

It wasn’t a text. It was a call.

From Matsuoka.

“Yes, this is Hiromatsu.”

“Ah, it’s Matsuoka. Where are you right now?”

Hiromatsu glanced around.

“Near my apartment. Why?”

“I had something to do on this side of town, and I figured I’d stop by your place while I was at it. But you weren’t home, and I remembered you said you weren’t feeling well, so I was wondering if something had happened.”

“I just ran out to the convenience store.”

“Ah, I see,” Matsuoka murmured quietly.

“Are you on your way back now?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you mind if I drop in for a bit? I’m still in front of your place.”

It felt wrong to turn him away after he’d come all this way, but the truth was Hiromatsu didn’t feel ready to see Matsuoka just yet. He had a strong sense that he wouldn’t be able to genuinely enjoy it. If Matsuoka were someone from another company, perhaps he could have vented a little, maybe even let himself be comforted. But they worked at the same company, and Matsuoka knew the system well enough. If he told him he was being laid off, Matsuoka would likely assume—correctly—that it was because he wasn’t good at his job.

Even if Matsuoka didn’t think of him as some standout performer, he didn’t want to be thought of as a man in his thirties who was being let go for being that incompetent. Even if it would all come out soon enough, once the personnel changes were posted on March 25th.

“I’m still a bit under the weather. I wouldn’t want to get you sick.”

“Ah, I won’t stay long. There’s just something I wanted to give you.”

In the end, he’d see him after all. Hiromatsu started walking again, though his feet felt impossibly heavy. He didn’t want to see Matsuoka. But he couldn’t bring himself to strongly say no either, especially with the guilt gnawing at him from lying to cancel their last plans.

His apartment building came into view. The figure standing near his door shifted slightly. Matsuoka. When he noticed Hiromatsu, he raised his arm in a big wave. Unable to pretend not to see him, Hiromatsu lifted his hand in a small wave back.

“It’s been a while… I guess just over a week,” Matsuoka said with a shrug. He was wearing jeans and a khaki jacket. The glasses suited him. The chunky ring on his finger somehow didn’t come off as obnoxious. Even from a man’s perspective, Matsuoka was attractive to the point of envy. Compared to himself, in a tracksuit and down jacket, looking like he’d thrown himself together without a care, it was no contest. Looking at Matsuoka made him feel like they were just fundamentally built differently as human beings.

“Sorry… for bailing on our plans so many times.”

“You had a cold, right? Don’t worry about it.”

The gentle smile that came with that stabbed at Hiromatsu’s conscience.

“What were you out getting?”

When Matsuoka peeked at what he was holding, Hiromatsu instinctively shifted the bag with the book behind him. The paper bag holding the job magazine wasn’t see-through, but still…

“Just a bento and a book… I was getting a little bored, so…”

He tacked on the last part like an excuse.

“I brought some stuff for you. Just some food. Would’ve gotten you a book or a DVD if I’d thought about it.”

He held out a plastic bag.

“Oh, you didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

“It’s nothing worth being modest about. Besides, it’s heavy to carry back.”

Inside the bag, he could see the reds of apples and yellows of tangerines. He’d lied, and yet Matsuoka had still come to check on him. The guilt was so strong, he wanted to crawl into a hole.

“Well, I should get going. Don’t want to overstay my welcome. I’ll text you later. Once you’re feeling better, let’s grab a drink again.”

Watching Matsuoka’s back as he started to leave without complaint, Hiromatsu found himself calling out without thinking.

“Um…”

Matsuoka stopped near the stairs and turned around.

“I’m actually… feeling a bit better now.”

Matsuoka tilted his head, puzzled, then smiled.

“That’s good to hear.”

“You came all the way out here… so, do you want to come up for tea or something? My place is a bit of a mess, but…”

Matsuoka’s face lit up in a way that was impossible to miss.

“Really?”

“Y-Yeah.”

Matsuoka returned in a brisk walk. Hiromatsu unlocked the door and motioned for his guest to enter the room first. As they passed each other, a faint smell of cigarettes clung to Matsuoka.

"Do you smoke, Matsuoka-san?"

"Ah, do you not like it?"

"It’s not that. I’ve just never seen you smoke before."

"Sometimes I do. I was waiting for you and had some time to kill, so... Ah, but don’t worry—I didn’t flick any ash around your door or anything. I carry a portable ashtray."

Hiromatsu smiled. "I wasn’t worried about that."

"Oh? So I’m actually pretty trustworthy?"

"It’s not trust exactly, I just don’t think you’re the kind of person who would do something like that."

"Maybe you’re giving me too much credit," Matsuoka said, but he looked genuinely pleased as he stepped inside. He slipped past the narrow hallway and seated himself, rather neatly, in front of the kotatsu. That pose, so small and compact, wasn’t any different from when he had been dressed as a woman. Hiromatsu served him a cup of coffee, and Matsuoka murmured, "Thanks," cradling it in both hands and lifting it toward his lips.

"It’s been a while since I came to your place," he said as he blew on the coffee, perhaps too hot.

"Has it?" Hiromatsu began, but trailed off when he realized the last time had been Christmas—when he’d been kissed and pushed Matsuoka away. They both avoided mentioning it, an unspoken understanding. The silence that settled was awkward, until Matsuoka broke it.

"When I heard you had a cold, I imagined you curled up in bed moaning and groaning. But then I realized you were still going to work through yesterday, so it couldn't have been that bad."

"Ah, yeah. I was getting better, so I thought I’d take it easy today, just in case…"

Lying made his throat dry. He hated people who lied with ease, yet he found himself doing the same the moment something inconvenient came up. And the fact that Matsuoka didn't even question him, just looked at him with that open expression, only made him feel guiltier.

"Colds that drag on are rough. Oh, right—what book did you buy?"

Hiromatsu swallowed hard. "Ah... It’s a paperback by someone named Azuma Dōhisako."

"Huh. Is it good?"

He only pulled the novel out, shoving the job search magazine to the corner of the room out of sight. When he handed it over, Matsuoka read the blurb on the back and murmured, "Oh, so you like this kind of stuff."

"I don’t really read novels," he added. "I mean, I’m interested, but there are just so many books out there, I never know where to start. Let me know if you find a good one."

"Sure."

Still sitting at the kotatsu, Matsuoka lay on his stomach and casually flipped through the pages. His blinks grew slower as he traced the opening lines with his eyes, until there was the soft sound of the book closing. A long, steady breath followed. When Hiromatsu leaned in, thinking no way, he saw Matsuoka had already fallen asleep.

He’d heard of people who couldn’t read more than a few lines without dozing off. Maybe Matsuoka was one of them. It wasn’t even night—it was broad daylight.

Hiromatsu studied his sleeping face. That small chin now had the goatee that had snapped him back to his senses before. Back then, facial hair conjured up images of scruffy men with thick beards under the nose or chin—generally unpleasant. But now, things were different. It was kept neat, thin, clean. It suited him. Looked good. But… it didn’t stir anything. No sexual pull. No thrill.

There had been a time when he’d felt guilty about that. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized—that was normal. Most men don’t get aroused by other men. That’s just how it is.

A siren shrieked somewhere outside, probably an ambulance. The noise made Matsuoka’s brow twitch faintly. Even his eyebrows are nicely shaped, Hiromatsu thought. With an annoyed scowl, Matsuoka turned his head side to side, and then slowly opened his eyes. He pulled off his glasses with a huff, rubbed his eyes rather roughly, and looked up at Hiromatsu. Their eyes met, but Matsuoka just stared blankly back, his mouth slightly ajar, utterly unguarded.

"…Sorry. I totally fell asleep, didn’t I?"

"Only for about five minutes."

"Seriously, I’m sorry."

"You don’t need to apologize," Hiromatsu said with a small smile. Matsuoka scratched his short hair with a rough motion.

"Weekends usually end up full of client dinners, and I’ve been running on a bit of a sleep deficit."

Client dinners. The harmless word snagged on something inside Hiromatsu’s chest. Being in a different department, he didn’t really know the ins and outs of sales, but from what he’d heard—mostly from Hayama, when they’d been dating—Matsuoka was good at his job. Just being around him made that clear: he was quick, assertive when he needed to be, and still considerate of others. That kind of competent person probably never had to hear the word layoff. The bitter voice rising up in his heart was one he hated, and he made himself shut the thought down.

"If you’re tired, you can go back to sleep. It’s not like we’ve got anything to do."

But Matsuoka didn’t nap again. He stayed awake, chatting for another thirty minutes or so before heading out. Hiromatsu hadn’t wanted to see anyone, not really—but talking had ended up being a small relief. It had lifted the weight on his chest, just a little. It also meant something to him, knowing Matsuoka had come all this way just to check in after hearing he wasn’t feeling well.

After he left, Hiromatsu reached for the paper bag he’d been ignoring and pulled out the job listings magazine. Sitting around agonizing wouldn’t help. If he was being laid off, that was on him. It wasn’t right to envy others or blame anyone else.

…Flipping through the pages, he scanned the columns for age and salary ranges, slowly, methodically.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Hiromatsu received an email from his older brother, announcing the birth of his child, complete with a photo. The newborn was red and wrinkled, like a little monkey, which made Hiromatsu smile. The baby was adorable. This was his brother's third child and the long-awaited daughter. The email ended with, "So, have you found a new girlfriend yet?" Hiromatsu responded with congratulations but couldn't address the girlfriend part. Last year, he’d told his family he was seriously considering marriage. At New Year's, when he returned home, his father asked at a family dinner, "So, what happened to the woman you wanted to marry?" Hiromatsu could only say, "It didn’t work out." He couldn't admit that the person was a man, or that he was still in a complicated relationship with him, neither as lovers nor simply as friends.

That week, Matsuoka was on a business trip, so there were no invitations to hang out. Hiromatsu went to a department store to buy a gift for his brother's new baby. He let the clerk guide him and chose a set of baby clothes. After arranging for it to be shipped, he felt inexplicably exhausted and sat down in a chair near the elevators. He rarely came to department stores and felt out of place. Considering having lunch at a nearby diner, he heard a familiar voice from behind.

"Hiromatsu?"

Turning around, he saw Hayama standing there. Hayama was Matsuoka's age and worked in the main office's sales department. They had met when Hayama came to help at the Koishikawa research office for a few months the previous year. Though they had only dated briefly, it was a significant relationship for Hiromatsu.

Hayama looked even more beautiful than before. She’d always been cute, but now she seemed even more refined.

"It’s been a while," Hiromatsu said, somewhat awkwardly.

He had broken up with her because of Matsuoka, and they hadn’t kept in touch since. Different workplaces meant they hadn’t crossed paths either.

Hayama had cried during their breakup, which left a strong impression on Hiromatsu. But now, she looked refreshed and confident, washing away any lingering guilt Hiromatsu felt.

"It’s been about four months. Are you shopping too?" she asked.

"I’m here to buy a gift for my brother's new baby."

"Congratulations," she said with a small bow.

"And congratulations to you on your engagement," Hiromatsu said.

Hayama put a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. "How did you know?"

"Matsuoka told me."

A middle-aged woman with large shopping bags passed by, bumping into Hayama’s leg. The woman apologized but exuded an attitude that implied it was Hayama's fault for standing in the way.

"Want to sit?" Hiromatsu suggested, motioning to the seat across from him.

With a wry smile, Hayama sat down. "Yeah, standing here is a bit of a hazard."

"You and Matsuoka get along well, huh?" she remarked.

"Uh, yeah. We have meals together sometimes," Hiromatsu said, though he didn’t mention their frequent meetups.

"I never heard about it from Matsuoka. Maybe he was being considerate of my feelings," Hayama mused, looking at Hiromatsu.

"I met my fiancé through an arranged meeting. I wasn’t enthusiastic at first, but he turned out to be a great guy, and our wedding is in July," she said with a gentle smile.

Her happiness seemed to radiate from her.

"And what about you, Hiromatsu?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Have you gotten back together with the person you liked?"

Hiromatsu forced a vague smile. "Back together or not... it's complicated."

Yoko Eto, whom he had once loved, would never return. Matsuoka, who was the same person inside, was now just a dear friend to him, far from a romantic partner.

"Is the other person's attitude unclear?"

Matsuoka's feelings were clearly romantic, while Hiromatsu’s were strictly platonic. But he couldn't tell Matsuoka that because he didn’t want to lose him as a friend.

Hayama seemed to take his silence as confirmation. "I hope the person realizes your feelings soon," she said sympathetically.

"So, how’s work? You're still short one staff member, right? Must be busy."

The mention of work made Hiromatsu think of his layoff, and a dark cloud loomed in his chest. Hayama didn’t know about his miserable situation.

"Same as usual. How about you?" he deflected.

Hayama sighed softly. "Nothing’s changed here either. Actually, I’m leaving the company at the end of March."

Since Matsuoka had already told him, Hiromatsu wasn’t surprised.

"Maybe that's why work has felt easier. Less frustration, more clarity," she said, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"A lot of people are leaving this year, right? The announcements will be on March 25th, but we've already been notified. Matsuoka's particularly affected," she continued.

"Matsuoka? What happened?" Hiromatsu asked.

Hayama leaned in slightly and lowered her voice. "There's no official announcement yet, so don't tell anyone... but he's getting promoted to section chief in the sales department during the spring reshuffle. Since he'll have more desk work, he'll need to delegate some of his responsibilities to others. But with the reduction in staff, especially experienced ones, the remaining workload will naturally fall on those left behind. That means more time in the field for them. He's been really stressed about how to handle it."

"Wait... but isn't he still under thirty?" 

Though not an official rule, it was an unspoken understanding that you had to be at least thirty to become a section chief at their company. No matter how capable, most people in their twenties were usually capped at the role of a senior staff member.

"He turns thirty the day after tomorrow. One of the girls who's a fan of Matsuoka in sales mentioned it. His performance is stellar, and he's well-liked by the higher-ups, so even if the promotion comes a bit early, no one's going to complain." 

Hiromatsu clenched his hands tightly in his lap. Even though he knew Matsuoka was capable, seeing the tangible evidence of his abilities in the form of a promotion only highlighted the gap between them, and it stung.

"Wow... that's impressive," Hiromatsu replied, but a dark cloud settled over his heart.

"Good at his job, good-looking, and a nice personality—he’s almost too perfect, right? He says he gets stressed, but he never shows it."

After a bit more small talk, Hiromatsu parted ways with Hayama. He knew her comment, "I hope things work out with the person you like," was sincere, but he couldn’t bring himself to respond. Watching her walk away with a spring in her step, excited to meet her fiancé, Hiromatsu felt a deep sense of misery, as though he was the one who had been left behind, even though he was the one who had ended things with her.

On the train ride home, Hiromatsu found himself lost in thought. If they hadn’t broken up, would he have married Hayama? Maybe, if he hadn’t run into Matsuoka again, that’s what would have happened. A self-deprecating laugh escaped him as he lowered his head. It was better for Hayama that they had parted ways. She had escaped being tied to a man on the brink of losing his job and his financial stability.

When he got back to his apartment, he remembered he hadn’t eaten lunch. It was already past 2 p.m. Too tired to go out or even buy something, he walked into his room, still hungry. He glanced around, thinking there might be some mandarins left, but the first thing his eyes landed on was the job information magazine on the kotatsu.

Hiromatsu swiped the magazine off the table and stretched out on the kotatsu, lying on his back. The thought of a capable man being promoted to section chief while an incompetent man was being laid off was so obvious and ironic that he couldn’t even laugh about it.

As he stared blankly at the ceiling, the sound of a message notification echoed through the room. It was from Matsuoka. Hiromatsu didn’t open the message and instead turned off his phone.

He didn’t finally look at the message until just after 11 p.m., right before bed. Even though he had ignored it, the thought of it lingered in his mind.

"How about we grab dinner the day after tomorrow?"

It was a typical invitation from Matsuoka, asking to share a meal. The words from Hayama echoed in Hiromatsu’s mind—"He turns thirty the day after tomorrow." Even though Matsuoka had celebrated Hiromatsu’s birthday before, he had never mentioned his own birthday. But now, on his own birthday, he was inviting Hiromatsu to dinner. Was there some hidden meaning behind it? Did Matsuoka want to be with him, even if it meant not celebrating his birthday, just to have some company? Or was Hiromatsu overthinking it, and Matsuoka simply wanted to have dinner?

Last Christmas, Matsuoka had given him a wristwatch as a birthday present, and a few people had complimented it, saying, "That's nice." It was the first time anyone had admired something Hiromatsu owned. Matsuoka had good taste.

Hiromatsu thought about it for a while—the fact that Matsuoka had celebrated his birthday, how he had accidentally found out about Matsuoka's, and his current feelings.

He felt he should at least thank Matsuoka somehow. It didn’t seem right to only be on the receiving end of nice gestures. But he didn’t want to meet up while feeling this burden of inferiority. If just hearing about the promotion made him feel this way, he couldn’t imagine how low he’d feel face-to-face with Matsuoka. It wasn’t Matsuoka’s fault—Matsuoka hadn’t done anything wrong. It was entirely Hiromatsu’s issue.

After thinking it over, Hiromatsu decided he would make it up to Matsuoka later, once he had sorted out his feelings. He convinced himself of this and then sent a reply: "Sorry, I have plans the day after tomorrow."

Within minutes, Matsuoka replied: "When are you free this week?"

Even though he wasn’t busy, Hiromatsu replied: "I'm busy this week. Sorry." 

Matsuoka responded: "Okay, then maybe next week. It sounds like you're busy, so don't overdo it."

Hiromatsu figured that was the last message he would receive for the day. He put his phone aside and closed his eyes. The feelings of inferiority and guilt gnawed at him, making him feel sick. Even though he was overwhelmed with self-loathing, he still didn’t want to see Matsuoka.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

On the day of Matsuoka’s birthday, Hiromatsu spent the entire day wavering between "I should probably meet him today" and "But I really don't want to." He knew that seeing Matsuoka on his birthday would make Matsuoka happy, but Hiromatsu didn’t want to go. Yet, Matsuoka had celebrated his birthday, so he kept spiraling through his thoughts, and before he knew it, the workday was over.

He got home around 6 p.m., but he couldn’t settle down, pacing around his room, unable to shake his unease. He tried to justify it by thinking it would be rude to meet or celebrate out of mere obligation, but he knew that was just a convenient excuse.

Matsuoka had given him a thoughtful gift, something that made him happy, yet here he was, refusing Matsuoka’s simple wish to share a meal, all because of his own insecurities.

Finally, at 8:30 p.m., Hiromatsu threw on his coat and rushed out. He knew that meeting Matsuoka would make him feel inferior and self-loathing, but not meeting him would leave him with regrets that would linger. He realized that he should have just agreed to meet from the start, but it was too late now.

By the time he reached the city, the department stores that might have had suitable gifts had already closed. When he checked the time, it was past 9 p.m.—no wonder they were closed. As he wandered around aimlessly, feeling lost, he spotted a small street vendor selling silver accessories on the sidewalk in front of a shuttered store. The black cloth on the table was crowded with accessories featuring designs of dragons, hawks, and various patterns. Hiromatsu recalled that Matsuoka had worn a ring with a similar vibe before.

He crouched down to take a closer look. There were so many options that he couldn’t decide which one to choose. After some hesitation, he picked a cell phone strap with a dragon design. He didn’t know Matsuoka’s ring size, and there were too many necklaces to choose from. After making the purchase, he realized that it was a rather cheap item, not really fitting for a birthday present, and the plain brown paper bag it came in didn’t help.

With the makeshift gift in his coat pocket, Hiromatsu then headed to a nearby cake shop that stayed open late. He bought a small cake, complete with a message that read, “Happy Birthday.” Although he had managed to prepare something that looked like a proper celebration, he began to worry that such a cheap gift and a simple cake wouldn’t bring Matsuoka any joy.

Matsuoka rarely ate cake when they were together. In fact, Hiromatsu didn’t even know if he liked sweets. He regretted not asking about Matsuoka’s food preferences or favorite things beforehand, berating himself for his poor planning.

Having finished his regretful shopping, Hiromatsu arrived at Matsuoka’s apartment just after 10 p.m. He hadn’t called ahead to say he was coming, not wanting to give Matsuoka any false expectations over such a meager offering.

With the feeling that he was fulfilling some sort of obligation, Hiromatsu pressed the intercom button at Matsuoka’s door... but there was no response. 

“Wait, what?” Hiromatsu pressed the intercom button again. The chime echoed through the apartment, but there was no sign of anyone inside. Maybe Matsuoka wasn’t home—perhaps he was still at work. Since Matsuoka had invited him over, Hiromatsu had assumed he’d be free in the evening. What time would he return? An hour, two hours... would he be back by midnight?

As he stood there under the cold night sky, wondering how long he’d have to wait, a thought struck him: there was no need to stay until Matsuoka returned. If he could just convey that he intended to celebrate his birthday, that would be enough. In fact, this situation might be ideal—it would allow him to express his good intentions while also avoiding a face-to-face meeting, something he wasn’t keen on.

Hiromatsu hooked the bag with the cake onto the doorknob. He considered leaving the present too but decided against it—it seemed too shabby for a gift to a grown man. As he turned to leave, he realized that if he left the cake without any indication of who it was from, it might just get thrown away. But he had no paper or pen to leave a note, so he resorted to sending a quick email instead.

"I left a cake in front of your door. I hope you enjoy it."

After sending the message, Hiromatsu turned to leave. As he pressed the down button for the elevator, his phone started ringing. It wasn’t a text message—it was a call. The caller ID showed Matsuoka’s name.

"Hiromatsu, where are you right now?" Matsuoka’s voice sounded more urgent than usual.

"Where, you ask... well..." Hiromatsu began, just as the elevator chimed and its doors opened. The car was empty.

"Are you at my place, by any chance?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Wait there. I’ll be home in just a few minutes."

The sound of lively conversation in the background filtered through the phone—Matsuoka was likely at an izakaya or some other social gathering.

"Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to rush."

"Seriously, I’ll be there in five... maybe ten minutes." With a click, the line went dead.

"Wait, Matsuoka?" Hiromatsu called into the phone, but the call had already ended. He let out a long sigh, then closed his phone. He felt a pang of guilt for having accepted a birthday gift from Matsuoka while doing nothing in return. But that wasn’t the only reason he had come.

Why had he imagined Matsuoka spending his birthday alone, feeling lonely and uncelebrated? It was arrogant of him to think that way. Matsuoka wasn’t nearly as isolated as Hiromatsu had imagined—he had people who would celebrate with him.

Hiromatsu wanted to leave. He felt the urge to jump into the elevator and disappear. But Matsuoka had asked him to wait, so he couldn’t just leave now. With a heavy heart, he returned to stand outside Matsuoka’s door, leaning against the hallway railing and looking down at the street. Under the streetlights, a few people, likely office workers, hurried by.

About fifteen minutes later, a taxi with its turn signal blinking pulled up to the curb. A young man in a suit rushed out. Although it was dark, Hiromatsu was pretty sure it was Matsuoka. He heard the elevator stop, and soon enough, Matsuoka came running out, breathing heavily. Hiromatsu watched him with a mix of detachment and pity.

"Didn’t you say you had plans tonight?" Matsuoka asked as he caught his breath.

"Yeah... the work I had planned finished earlier than expected," Hiromatsu replied, the lie catching in his throat.

"Oh, I see. I didn’t expect to see you, so I’m really glad. I should have turned down those guys’ invitation after all."

"Who were you with?"

"Some friends from university."

"You should’ve stayed and enjoyed yourself."

In truth, Hiromatsu wished Matsuoka had stayed with his friends. Matsuoka, oblivious to the subtle bitterness in Hiromatsu’s remark, shrugged his shoulders.

"It’s fine. They just wanted an excuse to drink."

Matsuoka picked up the bag hanging from the doorknob.

"Is this the cake? Wow, it’s pretty big."

"Well, it is your birthday," Hiromatsu said.

Matsuoka turned to look at him with a surprised expression.

"I ran into Hayama the other day. She mentioned that today was your birthday."

Matsuoka’s cheeks, already pink from his run, turned a deep shade of red.

"You treated me to a nice meal on my birthday, but all I have for you is this. I’ll get you a proper present later," Hiromatsu added.

"You didn’t need to get me anything in return." Matsuoka rubbed his flushed cheeks with the back of his hand, laughing shyly. It was a side of Matsuoka Hiromatsu had never seen before. Matsuoka gently stroked the box containing the cake.

"I’m really happy. This cake looks too nice to eat."

Seeing how genuinely pleased Matsuoka was over such a simple gift made Hiromatsu feel a bit embarrassed.

"They said it wouldn’t keep for long..."

"True. Hey, since you’re here, why don’t you come in for some tea?"

"But..."

"Just one cup. It’s cold out here with the wind blowing."

Hiromatsu reluctantly agreed to Matsuoka’s unusually insistent invitation and followed him into the apartment. Although he wanted to leave, it was Matsuoka’s birthday, and it felt too harsh to refuse outright.

"I wasn’t expecting company, so it’s a bit messy..." Matsuoka apologized, though the room wasn’t nearly as untidy as he claimed. The apartment was spacious and had 2 bedrooms, almost too large for one person. In the middle of the expansive living room was a dark brown sofa set. The furniture was all a coordinated dark brown, the walls a soft ivory, and the carpet a deep green. The room had a modern, cohesive aesthetic that suited Matsuoka’s style, but Hiromatsu felt slightly out of place.

As he awkwardly sat down on the sofa, he felt it envelop his lower body—it was surprisingly comfortable.

"Mind if I open it now?" Matsuoka asked, his eyes sparkling with childlike excitement as he placed the cake box on the low table. Hiromatsu nodded, and Matsuoka carefully removed the cake from its box.

"Wow, it looks delicious. And there’s even a message on it!"

 

Matsuoka stared intently at the cake—a plain one topped with bright red strawberries, utterly unremarkable in every way—for far longer than it had taken Hiromatsu to pick it out… smiling happily the entire time.

“Since it’s a special occasion, why don’t you have some too, Hiromatsu-san?”

“But… I brought it for you.”

“Cakes like this taste better when you share them with someone.”

Once he said that, there was no room to refuse. Matsuoka then said, “Ah—I’ve got just the thing,” and disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a bottle of wine and two wine glasses in hand.

They toasted with wine and neatly sliced cake. Hiromatsu usually drank beer or, when the mood struck, sake—he’d rarely ever had wine. To him, red and white were just different colors. Once, a boss had treated him to an expensive wine on a night out, but knowing the price beforehand had made him nervous, and he hadn’t even remembered how it tasted.

"This isn’t anything fancy—it was a gift," Matsuoka explained, but the wine was smooth and rich, far superior to the cake Hiromatsu had bought.

Matsuoka ate the cake with evident enjoyment, savoring each bite and sipping his wine with an air of sophistication. Hiromatsu, too, finished his share of the cake. As they sat there, the wine’s warmth spread through his body, making him feel pleasantly drowsy. He had done his duty; it was time to leave. But when he tried to stand up from the sofa, his knees gave out, and he ended up collapsing back down. He hadn’t realized how much he’d had to drink until now. Even sitting, the room seemed to spin. He leaned his head back against the sofa and felt himself drifting away.

“...Hiromatsu-san.”

Someone shook his shoulder, disturbing his pleasant sleep. He frowned slightly and cracked open his eyes.

“The last train’s coming soon. Do you want to stay over, or head home?”

“...Go home.”

He yawned wide and got to his feet, but barely took three steps before his legs gave out and he plopped back down. The thought of walking, of going home, just felt too troublesome. Curled up like a cat on the floor, he felt a gentle hand stroke his shoulder.

“You should just stay over.”

“No, going home…”

He didn’t even try to get up, just mumbled “going home, going home,” like a stubborn child. Through his blurred vision, he could see Matsuoka’s troubled expression—and then even that faded as sleep pulled him under once more.

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