Utsukushii Koto: Volume 2 - Part 9

The content warning is in the footnotes⁰.

Previous TOC Next

Hiromatsu bought a ticket for Matsuoka on board. Since Matsuoka had work the next day, he’d have to turn right back around the moment they arrived at the other shinkansen station. He complained that it was a waste of money, but Hiromatsu didn’t care—he just wanted to be with him a little longer.

They sat side by side in a reserved seat. During the two-hour ride, they hardly spoke. Matsuoka stared out the window the entire time. And just watching his profile, just being near him, was enough to make Hiromatsu feel completely at peace.

When they stepped off the train, Matsuoka looked around curiously. “I’ve never been out this way before,” he said, glancing about. Then he fixated on the return schedule, staring at it intently. That simple act made Hiromatsu’s chest tighten. Is he in a hurry to leave? He understood Matsuoka had work tomorrow. But still, the thought that he might be the only one who wanted to stay together was painful.

“Hey, is there a shoe store around here?”

Matsuoka turned and asked him. Hiromatsu wasn’t too familiar with the area either—it was just a transfer stop for him—but he thought for a moment.

“I’m not sure, but I think there’s a department store near the station.”

“Then they probably have a shoe shop. Can I see it from the exit?”

“I’ll go with you.”

But Matsuoka glanced down at his feet.

“I’m still wearing one of your shoes.”

“I’ve got socks on. It’s fine.”

But in the end, Hiromatsu was left waiting alone on a bench in the station’s waiting area. There were only about ten minutes between the arrival of the shinkansen and the last local train. Just as he’d expected, the train left while Matsuoka was gone. But he had never intended to take it. From the moment he’d bought Matsuoka’s ticket, he’d planned to stay with him until the return shinkansen.

Being alone made him feel strangely empty. He kept staring at the entrance, waiting for Matsuoka to come back. After about twenty minutes, Matsuoka returned—now wearing a pair of dark sneakers.

He handed back the loaned shoe. Just as Hiromatsu noticed him looking at the timetable again, he quickly spoke up.

“Want to get something to eat?”

“I’m fine with that, but… don’t you have a train to catch? It’ll still take a while to get home from here, won’t it?”

“I’ll be fine.”

He lied.

Matsuoka looked at him, skeptical, but finally muttered, “Well, I guess I am kind of hungry.”

Not wanting to wander around too much in an unfamiliar area, they ducked into an izakaya near the station. It was a good location, and likely because of the timing, it was busy. They were seated at the counter.

Even here, they didn’t talk much. Still, Hiromatsu was content. Just having him nearby, watching him eat from the corner of his eye, filled him with quiet joy.

Around eight o’clock, Matsuoka finally spoke up. “I should probably get going soon.”

“We should head to the station,” he added. “I’ve got to make the train.”

“Oh, but—”

“I don’t like having to rush onto the train last minute.”

With nothing left to say, they left the izakaya. Even here, Matsuoka didn’t let Hiromatsu pay for him.

When they’d entered the izakaya, there had still been a hint of twilight in the air. But now it was completely dark. Unlike the air-conditioned interior of the izakaya, the night outside was humid and oppressive. As they walked, Matsuoka pulled his tie free and rolled it up, shoving it into his pocket. The station was already in sight.

“Are you really going?” Hiromatsu asked.

“I am,” Matsuoka replied. “I’ve got work tomorrow. You’re heading back too, right?”

“I was thinking… maybe I’d stay somewhere around here tonight.”

A flicker of tension passed over Matsuoka’s face.

“The local lines aren’t running anymore.”

“You told me earlier it was fine,” Matsuoka said—his tone came out more accusatory than he’d intended.

“Yeah… but the last train had already left when I said that.”

Matsuoka stopped in the middle of the street.

“I thought something was weird. You said you had a transfer to make, but you were way too relaxed about it. It’s because I went off to buy shoes, right? That’s why you missed your train. Isn’t that it? Why didn’t you just say so? I didn’t need you to wait—I could’ve gone barefoot if I had to.”

Hiromatsu stayed silent, and Matsuoka snapped, his shoulders tensing.

“Say something!”

“You’ve been all over the place today, Hiromatsu-san. Dragging me onto the shinkansen without a ticket, bringing me all the way out here… I came because you said you really wanted me to, but honestly, going back and forth on the shinkansen like this is crazy!”

The anger in his voice pushed Hiromatsu back into silence. Matsuoka clenched his jaw, running a hand roughly through his hair.

“What do you want from me, Hiromatsu-san?”

It was the same question he’d been asked more than once.

“You dragged me along, begged me to stay—what do you even want? Are you saying… you want me to stay here with you tonight?”

“Y-yeah. If… if you could.”

In the end, he’d made Matsuoka say everything.

“But I told you, didn’t I? I have work tomorrow. I could make it on the first train in the morning, but I don’t know if I’d have time to change. Staying here just isn’t realistic.”

“I know that, but—”

“If you know, then I’m going.”

Hiromatsu couldn’t bring himself to say okay. If he did, Matsuoka really would leave. Still wearing a scowl, Matsuoka checked his watch, then looked toward the station. The final shinkansen was less than ten minutes away.

“If you’ve got something to say, then say it. Stop just watching my face like you’re waiting for permission.”

Driven by Matsuoka’s irritation, Hiromatsu finally forced the words out.

“…I… I think I’m in love with you.”

Matsuoka spun around so fast it startled him.

“I-I mean—not think—I am. I love you.”

“…What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Matsuoka’s voice shook, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I wasn’t sure until now. But seeing you again—I realized I must have known all along.”

“Then why the hell are you saying this now?!”

Hiromatsu could see how tightly Matsuoka’s fists were clenched.

“Since the moment you pulled me onto that train, I knew something was different. You kept touching me even though I told you not to. You kept staring at me. I started thinking maybe… maybe it was what I hoped. But I didn’t want to get my hopes up too high. I didn’t want to be crushed if I was wrong. It doesn’t matter how I feel. But come on—we were on the train, we were at dinner—you had so much time. Why are you only saying this now? It’s not fair.”

Hiromatsu didn’t understand why it was unfair.

“And I told you, didn’t I? That I didn’t want anything to do with you. That I didn’t want to see you. So how can you stand there now and say you love me?”

Matsuoka’s voice was loud enough that passersby were turning to look. And since they were standing on the sidewalk right outside the station, they were attracting even more attention.

Hiromatsu took Matsuoka’s arm and moved them both off to the side. Matsuoka said nothing, lips tightly pressed together, head bowed.

“So, um… it’d be long-distance, but… would you go out with me?”

No answer. The silence stretched, and Hiromatsu began to grow uneasy.

“On my days off, I’ll visit you as much as I can. I’ll call and message you every day.”

Matsuoka looked up—and his expression was on the verge of tears. The sight caught Hiromatsu off guard.

“Why…?”

The question burst out of him, almost like a blow, as he grabbed the front of Hiromatsu’s shirt.

“I haven’t done anything. I didn’t try this time. I wasn’t trying to win you over like before. After we stopped seeing each other, all I thought about was forgetting you—trying to forget.”

“Then I’m glad I realized how I felt… before you really did forget.”

The grip on his shirt loosened. But the tension didn’t leave Matsuoka’s face—he still looked as if he might cry. Hiromatsu gently placed a hand on his head.

“You say you didn’t try, but I think the reason I finally figured it out… is because you kept loving me all this time. I don’t know how to put it right, but…”

Matsuoka pressed a palm to his forehead. “Can we sit down somewhere?” he mumbled.

They sat on a bench at the nearby bus stop. The last bus had already come and gone; no one else was around.

Hiromatsu watched silently as Matsuoka buried his face in his hands. After a while, a soft “Ah—” escaped him, and he raised his head.

“The last shinkansen…”

It had already departed. Long gone.

Matsuoka looked around, flustered, like a child left behind. Eventually, he let out a long sigh, eyes lowered in resigned defeat.

“…Do you really love me?”

He didn’t look at Hiromatsu when he asked—he just let the words drop, quiet and bare.

“…Yeah,” Hiromatsu replied.

“I see,” Matsuoka murmured. But he said nothing more.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

They sat at the bus stop for about an hour before Hiromatsu and Matsuoka began looking for a place to stay for the night. He searched on his phone and found two business hotels near the station—but both were fully booked. Strange for a Sunday, but even so, thinking maybe just one room might have been overlooked, they went directly to the hotel that was just across the way. The front desk staff told them the reason: a large outdoor concert at a nearby stadium.

“There aren’t many hotels in this area,” the man explained, “so whenever there’s an event like that, they fill up fast.”

The timing was bad enough to make Hiromatsu dizzy. Matsuoka, listening beside him, shrugged and said as they left the hotel, “Wanna just crash at a manga café?”

It was summer, so technically it wouldn’t be dangerous to sleep outside, but the idea of roughing it still wasn’t appealing. A 24-hour family restaurant was another option, but compared to that, a manga café would feel less awkward. Still, Hiromatsu felt guilty. After going to such lengths to make Matsuoka stay, he couldn’t even offer him a proper bed.

They headed from the station toward the nightlife area, looking for a manga café. Hiromatsu didn’t know the area well, so they just followed the light, walking wherever seemed brightest. Along the way, Matsuoka stopped in front of a vending machine outside a convenience store to buy cigarettes. It seemed like he just couldn’t go without them.

Gradually, the neon signs around them changed hue, and as Hiromatsu tilted his head, wondering why, he suddenly realized they had wandered into a love hotel district.

He tried to turn quickly and lead them out, but then Matsuoka said beside him, “A love hotel’s fine too.”

The words hit like a jolt.

“Ah… but…”

Hiromatsu hesitated at the thought of staying in such a place, but then thought of Matsuoka sleeping on a hotel floor the night before. Tonight, he wanted him to have a proper bed.

“Yeah… if we’re just sleeping, then it doesn’t matter where.”

Trying to brush aside the suggestiveness, he smiled a little too brightly.

“Just sleeping, huh?” Matsuoka asked, turning to look at him. “Don’t you want to do anything with me?”

Hiromatsu flushed instantly. The heat hit his face all at once.

“Ah, but… I mean…”

His words faltered at his lips. If he were being honest—yes. He wanted to. He wanted to touch him. But to say so now, in this situation, felt too shallow. Like it would make everything up to this point seem as though it had been just for that.

“Um, I figured… you must be tired after everything today…”

He was trying to smooth things over, but Matsuoka suddenly dropped a bomb.

“I don’t mind. We can… if you want.”

Hiromatsu swallowed hard.

“But…”

“Decide now. I need to be prepared too.”

Since yesterday, he’d dragged Matsuoka all over the place. No doubt he was exhausted. But…

His ears pounded with the sound of his heartbeat. His temples throbbed. Sweat beaded across his forehead. He felt lightheaded, almost drunkenly so, and swayed on his feet.

He drew a deep breath—and with that, his thoughts settled. With newfound resolve, he reached out and took Matsuoka’s right hand.

“Is there… anything we need?”

Matsuoka tilted his head, confused.

“For… doing it. I mean, I don’t really know.”

A faint flush rose in Matsuoka’s cheeks.

“…If it’s a love hotel, they’ve usually got everything.”

Still holding hands, they walked together through the hotel district and entered the first love hotel at the edge of the street. There was only one room left, and they took it.

The room had a chic, understated atmosphere—cream-colored walls, dark brown furniture, nothing overtly lascivious. Aside from the single, large bed positioned squarely in the middle of the room.

“Haven’t been to a love hotel in a while. It’s nice. Feels more like a business hotel.”

Matsuoka sat on the bed. Hiromatsu, too nervous to move, remained frozen near the doorway. Matsuoka didn’t seem to mind; he wandered the room, opening cupboards and drawers, inspecting the place like he was just curious.

When he finished his little exploration, he asked, “Mind if I take a bath first?”

“Ah, sure.”

Matsuoka disappeared into the bathroom. Cautiously, Hiromatsu stepped closer to the bed and perched at the edge like a nervous guest. He was so tense his fingertips trembled. Fifteen minutes passed… twenty… over thirty. Matsuoka still hadn’t returned.

Hiromatsu started to worry. Isn’t that a bit long? But he was too hesitant to knock, afraid it might seem like he was rushing things, like he’d been eagerly waiting to start.

Finally, Matsuoka came out. Hiromatsu averted his gaze and quickly slipped into the bathroom in exchange, unable to look at the glossy sheen of Matsuoka fresh from the bath. Though Matsuoka had filled the tub for him, he just used the shower and stepped out. He’d thought about wearing just the provided bathrobe, but Matsuoka had fully dressed again after bathing—so he followed suit.

Matsuoka lay on his back in the center of the bed. It looked like he was asleep. Hiromatsu dried his hair, then returned to find him still perfectly still. He slowly climbed onto the bed, crawling toward him with deliberate care. When he peeked at his face, Matsuoka’s breathing was slow and steady.

His sleeping face was beautiful. “Did you fall asleep?” Hiromatsu asked in a soft voice.

Matsuoka’s closed eyelids slowly opened, startling him.

“…I wasn’t asleep.”

“Are you tired?”

“Not really.”

Matsuoka covered his face with both hands.

“…While I was in the bath, I kept thinking maybe you’d be gone when I came out.”

“Why would I?”

There was no answer. As they looked at each other, a sweet and wicked impulse surged up within Hiromatsu. He reached out, brushed Matsuoka’s cheek, and asked, “Can I kiss you?”

“If I say no, will you stop?”

 

 

Was it that he didn’t want to be kissed…? Unsure, Hiromatsu looked down, flustered. Then, Matsuoka slowly lifted his body and kissed him first. His lips were soft, hot, and dizzyingly intoxicating.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

As they continued to kiss, they undressed each other slowly. When Matsuoka’s shirt came open, it revealed a smooth, flat chest and small nipples. It was a body no different from Hiromatsu’s, and yet it carried a subtle, undeniable sensuality.

They were so small, he didn’t know what to do at first. Hesitantly, he brushed his palm over them. The touch was faint, unsatisfying—he wanted to feel more. He brought his fingers to the softly colored nipple and gently pinched it. A breathy little sound escaped Matsuoka’s lips, and it sent a shiver down Hiromatsu’s spine.

As he rubbed gently with the pads of his fingers, the soft skin beneath responded, firming and deepening in color. Drawn in, he bent down and took it into his mouth. The pale chest rose and fell sharply, and with each breath came soft gasps—“Nn, nn…”—delicate sounds that only made him want to keep going.

Their bodies pressed close, and even through the fabric, Hiromatsu could feel Matsuoka’s arousal. He was sure Matsuoka could feel his too. It was embarrassing—but mutual.

The desire to see—to take in Matsuoka’s honest reaction—was natural. Hiromatsu reached for the waistband of his boxers, but Matsuoka suddenly flinched, resisting sharply—so much so that Hiromatsu hesitated.

“I don’t want to take them off,” Matsuoka said firmly.

“…Why not?”

Matsuoka looked down. “I don’t want you to see it.”

“I… want to,” Hiromatsu said quietly.

“What’s there to see? It’s the same as yours.”

That stung. It left no room for argument.

“I know that… but I still want to see how yours is. How you are…”

“There’s nothing worth seeing. It’ll just gross you out.”

Matsuoka was adamant.

“…Then, let me see just a little. If I look and I think I can’t handle it, I won’t try to take anything off.”

Hiromatsu persuaded Matsuoka, despite his reluctance, and gently peeled down his boxer briefs.

It was the first time he’d ever seen another man in this state—fully exposed like this. There was something raw about it, something oddly powerful. But there was no revulsion. Not even a flicker.

And maybe it made him seem like a bully, but the sight of Matsuoka, his face buried in his hands, visibly embarrassed to be looked at—only made Hiromatsu more aroused.

He soothed him with quiet words, coaxing him out of the last of his clothing. Once freed from the confining fabric, Matsuoka was already half-hard. His neck was flushed all the way up, head bowed low in shame. That image alone—his visible arousal paired with such self-consciousness—was so endearing it made Hiromatsu’s chest ache.

He reached out and touched him—cautiously at first—and was surprised by the heat and firmness. It throbbed gently against his hand. The contrast between how delicate Matsuoka looked and the strength of his arousal stirred something deep in Hiromatsu, a kind of fascination.

“D-Don’t… touch it,” Matsuoka stammered, grabbing Hiromatsu’s wrist.

“You don’t have to do this just for me…”

“I want to touch you. It’s… kind of amazing.”

Matsuoka still resisted, but Hiromatsu didn’t let go. Slowly, he stroked him—carefully, the way he would touch himself. Matsuoka’s back trembled with every motion. As his arousal grew steadily under Hiromatsu’s hand, it became fully erect. When Hiromatsu gently wrapped his hand around it a little tighter—

“Agh—!”

Matsuoka let out a sharp gasp.

“Sorry, did that hurt?” Hiromatsu quickly let go, startled.

Matsuoka pressed both hands to his mouth.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to squeeze too hard—I don’t know what pressure’s okay…”

“It didn’t hurt.”

“But—”

“It didn’t hurt. Just surprised me… Honestly, stopping halfway is worse.”

That quiet confession gave Hiromatsu the courage to continue. He wrapped his fingers around Matsuoka again, this time with greater care.

Matsuoka squirmed, his body instinctively pulling back, so Hiromatsu used his other hand to support his back and gently drew him close.

Timidly, Matsuoka wrapped his arms around Hiromatsu’s neck.

“Nh… nnh… ha…”

With each stroke, sweet, airy breaths reached Hiromatsu’s ear. The soft moans grew increasingly urgent, until finally Matsuoka gasped, “I—I’m gonna come. Let go—”

“It’s fine, just like this.”

“No, I don’t want to—”

“It’s okay.”

“I said no! I don’t want to get you dirty…”

Even though Matsuoka begged him to let go, Hiromatsu didn’t stop.

And then Matsuoka’s release came, sudden and sharp, spilling over Hiromatsu’s hand.

“I told you to stop… it’s gross, right?”

Matsuoka looked like he might cry. But to Hiromatsu, that face—embarrassed, close to tears—was devastatingly beautiful. He pulled him close, kissing him softly. While they kissed, he gently laid Matsuoka down beneath him.

Even someone as out of touch as Hiromatsu knew at least the basics of how sex worked between two men. He’d done it once before, even if he barely remembered it—it had been when he was drunk. He didn’t remember the steps, didn’t know how to go about it. Maybe, like with women, it was better to ease into things first. As he reached to touch the more intimate part of Matsuoka, he felt Matsuoka’s body stiffen under his.

“Do you… not like being touched here?”

In a small voice, Matsuoka replied, “I don’t mind… but can you use the lube?”

As instructed, Hiromatsu reached for the lubricant provided in the room. That part of Matsuoka’s body felt soft, delicate—but the rest of him was tense, drawn tight beneath him. Assuming Matsuoka might be afraid or uncomfortable, he began to pull back—but then Matsuoka stopped him.

“It’s okay. You can go ahead.”

“Huh…?”

“You can do what you want… with me.”

Even as he said that, Hiromatsu couldn’t help but notice the nervous tension in his body.

“But… you seem really tense. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“The last time… it hurt a little. That’s probably why my body’s reacting on its own. It’s not that it actually hurts now.”

The last time… The words scraped sharply across Hiromatsu’s chest.

Without thinking, he asked, voice edged with jealousy, “Last time? With who?”

Matsuoka’s eyes flew wide with surprise, and then his face crumpled, as though about to cry.

“With who…?”

And then Hiromatsu remembered.

“Ah… with me…”

Matsuoka shoved him away, turning onto his stomach, hiding his face against the bed. His head and back trembled as though from a chill.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Hiromatsu whispered, gathering him close.

“I really am sorry…”

He barely remembered the time they’d done this before. He had no recollection of how it had gone, or how it might have felt for Matsuoka. But watching him now—how even a touch made his body flinch—Hiromatsu couldn’t believe his past self had done anything gentle or kind.

It must have hurt. It must have been terrible for him…

“I’ll never hurt you again,” he whispered, brushing his hand gently over Matsuoka’s back.

“Never again.”

He held Matsuoka from behind, carefully, tenderly, as if trying to smooth away the tension still trembling under his skin.

“I’ll be gentle with you’.”

He pressed a kiss to the curve of Matsuoka’s neck as he spoke.

There was no reply. But then Matsuoka slowly turned around and wrapped his arms tightly around Hiromatsu’s neck, clinging to him with all his strength.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

When Hiromatsu awoke, the bedside lamp was on. Beneath its gentle glow, Matsuoka lay on his stomach, smoking a cigarette with a languid, hazy expression. The sight stirred something in him. When he softly stroked Matsuoka’s bare shoulder, the younger man flinched.

“Smoking in bed is bad manners, you.”

Matsuoka stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray.

“I… couldn’t help it.”

Hiromatsu leaned in to kiss him, but Matsuoka turned his face away.

“I smell like smoke.”

He tried to escape, but Hiromatsu chased after his lips and caught him. Matsuoka’s mouth did taste a little bitter at first—but the more they kissed, the sweeter it became.

Hiromatsu found himself remembering what it had felt like to be inside him. He’d taken his time, easing Matsuoka into it slowly. The tight, narrow, burning heat had made him lose himself. He’d kissed him, again and again, losing himself in the sensation until Matsuoka finally whispered, “Take it out.” Even then, Hiromatsu hadn’t wanted to move from that place that felt so good.

As he looked at Matsuoka’s lips—wet from their kisses—he gently caressed his cheek.

“Did it hurt?”

“…No.”

“You don’t have to pretend. Your voice is a little hoarse. Want some water?”

Matsuoka nodded, so Hiromatsu got up, took a bottle from the fridge, and handed it to him. Matsuoka held it in both hands and drank it in little gulps, like a child. A bit of water spilled from the corner of his mouth, and Hiromatsu reached out to wipe it with his finger. Matsuoka flushed red and pushed the bottle toward him.

“That's enough.”

When Hiromatsu reached to touch his ear, Matsuoka murmured, “Why are you touching me?”

“Do you… not like it?”

“It’s not that…”

When he brushed the corner of Matsuoka’s eye, Matsuoka closed them tight, shoulders drawing in as if trying to shrink. That vulnerability was so endearing, Hiromatsu pressed his lips to both eyelids.

When he pulled him close, Matsuoka was warm and trembling like a frightened bird. It was still the middle of the night, and Hiromatsu thought maybe he’d just hold him until morning—but then Matsuoka pushed him away, palms against his chest. Maybe he didn’t like to cuddle to after sex. It made Hiromatsu feel a little lonely. But if Matsuoka didn’t want it, he had to respect that. Still, he couldn’t help pinching at Matsuoka’s short bangs, reluctant to let go.

Then, Matsuoka pulled away from his hand and slowly sat up. There was something strange about his expression.

“…I want to go home.”

The weight of his voice made Hiromatsu sit up in alarm.

“W-Why?”

“I don’t know… I just feel uneasy.”

“Was it… bad? Being with me?”

Honestly, Hiromatsu wasn’t confident. It had felt good to him—but he had no idea how it had been for Matsuoka. Sure, Matsuoka had come, more than once, but still…

“Did I… do something wrong? Was it something you didn’t like?”

Matsuoka shook his head.

“No, you were… really gentle.”

“Was that bad?”

“…It’s just that… gentle is scary.”

That didn’t make sense.

“It went too well. That’s the problem. I never thought you’d actually be able to do it. I mean, no matter how much I fantasized about it, I figured it’d be impossible. That’s why I asked you to—so we could try and you’d realize it was a no-go. So I could accept that and move on…”

Matsuoka sniffled.

“But instead—despite saying you couldn’t be with a man—you were inside me. And you looked… happy. The whole time, I kept bracing myself, wondering when you’d say, ‘This isn’t right’ or ‘It’s not what I thought.’ I was constantly waiting for the moment it would end. But you never said any of that. And somewhere along the way, I got caught up in it too, got totally swept away… Even now my head feels like it’s floating and I don’t know what’s going on anymore. I figured if I did something normal—like smoke a cigarette—I’d feel grounded again, but…”

He clutched at his hair, messing it up with both hands.

"I'm happy… but I hate it," Matsuoka said. "Right now is good—everything feels so good. And that’s why I never want to hear you say ‘I can’t’ or ‘I don’t want this’ or anything like that. I’d rather die than hear that. I’m scared. That’s why I want to go."

Just as Matsuoka was about to slide off the bed, Hiromatsu scrambled to stop him.

"I would never say that."

"You don’t know that," Matsuoka said flatly. "I can’t trust you."

The words hit Hiromatsu like a cold bucket of water thrown straight into the warmth of the moment’s afterglow.

"I like you, Hiromatsu-san—I really do. I like you a lot. But I know what you’re like. You’re not great with tact, you can be moody, indecisive, and you say you hate liars, but you lie too. You’re sweet to people you like, but cold to the rest. I’ve asked myself so many times what I even see in you. Why I couldn’t just go for a girl like everyone else. There’ve even been girls who said they liked me, and yet…"

His voice trailed off.

"And yet I still chose someone like you."

A sharp sting tightened in Hiromatsu’s chest. It hurt to hear all his worst traits spelled out like that—especially because every word rang true. He couldn’t argue. And the one who was saying all this, despite everything, still loved him deeply enough to be this afraid.

"After you rejected me in March, I was a mess for weeks. I could barely eat, I was smoking like crazy, snapping at my juniors at work—I was awful. But then I thought, if things were just going to fall apart anyway, maybe it was for the best. Maybe it was better I didn’t know where you’d gone. I told myself I never wanted to feel that miserable again, that next time I’d just date a girl instead. I even changed my phone, moved house, and I was starting to put it all behind me, and then…"

Matsuoka’s words poured out in a flood, all the hurt and fear he’d been carrying.

"I know I’m saying terrible things. But I’m not going to apologize for any of it."

His voice trembled as he said it, his lips pressed tightly together, and he shrank back, frightened.

"You don’t have to apologize," Hiromatsu said gently. "And I’m not angry."

He added softly, “So… you don’t have to be scared.”

"I’ll do better from now on. I’ll make sure you never feel this anxious again.”

He reached for Matsuoka’s narrow shoulders and gently pulled him into his arms.

“I’ll make sure you never feel afraid of kindness again.”

He stroked his hair slowly. For a while, Matsuoka stayed motionless in Hiromatsu’s arms. Then, hesitantly, he reached up and wrapped his arms around Hiromatsu’s back. The next second, he gave a huge hiccuping breath—and then pressed his nose into Hiromatsu’s shoulder, letting out a high, broken sob like a child, and started crying his heart out.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Night turned to morning, but the early light still carried the last traces of darkness. Hiromatsu and Matsuoka left the love hotel together. The streets were empty, like a ghost town, and taking advantage of that, they walked to the station holding hands. The first Shinkansen departed just after six. Following Matsuoka, Hiromatsu accompanied him all the way onto the platform. It was still early, and there were few people around. He led Matsuoka behind the vending machines, stealing a kiss in hiding. Even after holding each other all night, it still wasn’t enough. No matter how much they touched, it never felt like enough.

He hadn’t wanted to let him go yesterday. He didn’t want to let him go today either.

"Are you hungry?"

"I don’t usually eat breakfast."

"Want something to drink?"

"I’m good for now. If I get thirsty, I’ll buy something on the train."

"Will it hurt to sit?"

"If the seat next to me is empty, I’ll lie down."

Maybe it was all the worrying, but in the end, Matsuoka laughed.

"If you keep fussing like this, you’re going to go bald."

"...Still."

"It makes me happy. But you don’t have to worry so much, okay?"

The train pulled into the platform. Matsuoka boarded last. He’d been smiling just moments ago, but the second the doors closed, his face crumpled with sadness. He gave a small wave… and the Shinkansen slipped from view.

After the rumble had faded, Hiromatsu felt like part of him had been torn away. They’d only just said goodbye, and yet he missed him unbearably. He found himself seriously considering jumping on the next train to follow after him.

While he stood there, frozen in that feeling, his phone buzzed with a message. It was from Matsuoka.

Coming this weekend?

That was all it said. It was written as a question, but Hiromatsu couldn’t help but read it as I want you to come. Of course he was going. And yet now that things had changed, the distance—two hours by Shinkansen, another forty minutes by local line—felt impossibly far.

I’m coming, he replied.

It was a short message, like a line of conversation. He waited a little while, but no reply came. If he stayed standing on the Shinkansen platform, he really might jump on board and chase after him, so he quickly made his way down to the local train line instead.

Ten minutes into the ride, just after they’d come out of a tunnel, his phone buzzed again. Another message from Matsuoka. The subject read: Please don’t mind this.

That alone made it impossible not to worry, and Hiromatsu opened the message in a hurry.

I want to see your face. I want you to be kind to me. I want to hear you say you love me. I’m sorry, I must be weird. But I had to say it. I’m sorry. Please don’t mind this.

It was Matsuoka’s true wishes—someone who rarely made demands, laying himself bare. Hiromatsu’s chest tightened. It hurt. His breath trembled. If he kept on loving like this, with every breath catching in his throat, he wouldn’t be able to do anything else.

But still, it made him so happy, he felt like crying. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Like a child counting down the days to a school trip, Hiromatsu held out his fingers and started counting how many nights were left until the weekend.

Footnotes

0. Content warning: NSFW.

Previous TOC Next