Utsukushii Koto: Volume 3 - Part 2
It was around mid-September when Matsuoka
heard from his former senior, Rokujima. He’d asked to meet sometime during the
weekend, but Matsuoka had turned him down, saying he already had unavoidable
plans. Rokujima had then offered a compromise: how about Friday night?
Friday nights were when Hiromatsu
came over, so ideally Matsuoka wanted to avoid that, but he also didn’t want to
keep brushing off Rokujima. In the end, he told Hiromatsu to go on ahead and
wait at his apartment and agreed to meet up with Rokujima just for a bit.
At 7 p.m., they were supposed to
meet at a Western-style izakaya near the station. Rokujima showed up about
twenty minutes late.
“Sorry, sorry. I got caught up with
a client.”
As soon as he sat down, Rokujima
threw back a glass of beer. They’d gone to the same university—Matsuoka had
been in the economics department, while Rokujima, two years his senior, had
studied law. Though they were in different faculties, they’d become friends
through the soccer club—not the competitive team, but more of a supporters’
circle that mostly watched matches together.
Their shared support of a minor
team, Preddy, had helped them bond, and they’d gone to matches together several
times. Even now, when one of them got their hands on a good ticket, they’d
reach out to the other. It was always more fun to go with someone who knew the
team.
“They won the other day,” Rokujima
said with a sly grin.
“They did,” Matsuoka replied.
“Kaido’s assist was brilliant, huh?”
Matsuoka gave a wry smile. “I know
the result, but I didn’t catch the match.”
“No kidding? It was a good one.”
The match had been streamed last
weekend. Saturday at 9 p.m.—a perfect time. But Hiromatsu had been there, and
Matsuoka had forgotten all about it.
“Didn’t think you’d miss a game.
You’ve been pretty busy lately, huh. Ah—don’t tell me… did you finally get
yourself a girlfriend?”
“…Yeah, I guess,” Matsuoka replied
vaguely.
“You’ve been flying solo for a long
time since your last girlfriend.”
“True.”
In reality, it had only been about
two months since his two-year-long unrequited love had finally become
mutual—but that wasn’t something he could explain.
“Hey, do chicks even like that?”
Rokujima pointed at the faint goatee
on Matsuoka’s chin.
“Dunno. Couldn’t tell you.”
“I think that little goatee is
cool.”
Rokujima stroked his own smooth
chin.
“Why don’t you try it, senpai?”
When Matsuoka suggested it, Rokujima
shook his head and laughed. “No way. First impressions matter, y’know? Even a
hint of a laid-back vibe can ruin it.”
Rokujima had a solid build and
strong features—on him, a scruffy beard would probably lean less easygoing
and more intimidating. Not that the man himself seemed aware of that.
“Especially with the older crowd.
I’m riding a leaky boat here—I can’t take risks.”
In April of that year, Rokujima had
left a major law firm and gone independent. Unlike the big firms, where cases
rolled in on their own and pay was fixed, freelancing meant the business side
was a constant battle. Big cases didn’t come in regularly, and the work wasn’t
always profitable.
Matsuoka touched his own chin. He’d
started growing the goatee just to change how his face looked. Back then, he’d
still been working in outside sales, and clients often joked about it. He’d
considered shaving it off when he was promoted to section manager, but it had
become sort of a trademark, and now here he was—still wearing it.
It wasn’t like he was particularly
attached to it. He figured it might be time for a change. But Hiromatsu was
surprisingly fond of it, so he’d hesitated. He often touched Matsuoka’s chin,
even licked or gently bit it, as if to confirm the texture. …Hiromatsu’s tastes
might be a little unusual.
Matsuoka glanced at his wristwatch.
“Ah—by the way, I should let you
know. I actually need to be home by nine.”
“What? After all this time, and
you’re already ditching me? Cold-hearted bastard.”
Rokujima grumbled as he took a sip
of his second beer. Foam clung to the edges of his lips like a little beard,
and he let out a loud puhh as he exhaled.
“That assistant girl—she’s quitting
at the end of the year.”
When he’d opened his private law
office in April, Rokujima had put out a call for administrative staff. Around
that time, Matsuoka had heard about it—Hiromatsu had just been laid off and was
struggling to find a new job, stuck in a string of rejections.
Seeing it as a perfect opportunity,
Matsuoka had introduced Hiromatsu to Rokujima’s office. Back then, Hiromatsu
hadn’t yet told Matsuoka that he’d been laid off. Acting entirely on secondhand
information, Matsuoka had moved on his own to try and line up a job for him—and
in doing so, had wounded Hiromatsu’s pride badly.
As a result, Hiromatsu had rejected
him harshly and disappeared to the countryside. On top of that, Matsuoka had
begged Rokujima to hold the assistant position open, only for everything to
fall through. He’d caused trouble for Rokujima too. It had been a mess. In the
end, Rokujima had hired a 24-year-old university grad as his administrative
assistant.
To be honest, it was something he
still didn’t like to think about. It had become a kind of trauma.
“She’s quitting already? It’s only
been six months. Is she getting married?”
“Bingo.”
Rokujima shrugged.
“I’m honestly relieved she’s
leaving. She had a cute face and voice, so I probably spoiled her too much at
the beginning. It was my first time managing someone, and I let little mistakes
slide—and because of that, she never really learned how to do the job.”
He let out a long sigh.
“I realized it wasn’t going to work
out and tried to be a little stricter—but she’d cry at the drop of a hat. Since
she wasn’t picking up the actual responsibilities, the random office work
started piling up. Then I’d get irritated, and stuff I used to let slide—like
her messing with her phone during work—just started to get on my nerves. So
when she said she wanted to leave to get married, I was seriously overjoyed.
Just three more months to endure, that’s what I keep telling myself.”
He raised both hands dramatically,
then tossed a piece of avocado from the salad into his mouth.
“She seemed fine during the
interview. Cute smile, spoke clearly, seemed sharp. But now there are interview
guidebooks everywhere—people probably just memorize what they think the
employer wants to hear. Once you actually work with someone, that’s when the
real picture comes out.”
Then, as if it naturally followed,
Rokujima continued.
“So I’ve learned that you can’t tell
anything from interviews and degrees alone. This time, I want someone who can
actually do the job from the start. A guy, preferably. It was hard managing a
young girl. I want someone serious, not flaky, and with at least some
experience in office work.”
Hiromatsu’s face floated into
Matsuoka’s mind.
“Hey,” Rokujima said, “didn’t you
tell me back in March that you knew someone good?”
Matsuoka swallowed hard.
“You said he was, like, freakishly
earnest. A guy you worked with, right?”
“…Yeah. Sort of.”
Rokujima gave a small nod. “You were
really pushing for him back then—saying he was solid, dependable. I figured if
you said so, I could trust it. If he’s still not tied to a job, do you think
he’d be willing to work for me once the girl leaves in December?”
Then, between bites of chicken
wings, Rokujima added:
“Of course, given what happened last
time, I’d want to do things differently. Ideally, we’d have a drink
together—just something casual. A chance to talk and get a feel for each other
before deciding.”
Matsuoka looked down and fell into
thought.
“Do you need an answer right away?”
“Not immediately,” Rokujima replied.
“That girl’s staying through the end of December, so I’m not in a rush. But if
he could start coming in once a week or so during December to begin
transitioning into the role, that would help a lot.”
…Matsuoka caught the train home just
after 9:30. Rokujima had asked for a final decision by the end of November at
the latest.
When it got late, Matsuoka had sent
Hiromatsu a quick message from the izakaya, and again from the train: I’m on
my way home now. Sorry for being late.
The reply came quickly: It’s
okay. Please get home safely.
Matsuoka smiled to himself and held
his phone tightly. He’s a guy, he thought, so “get home safely”
doesn’t really mean anything… But still, that gentleness made him feel
unreasonably happy.
Hiromatsu came over without fail
every weekend. Unless Matsuoka had a business trip or unavoidable obligation,
Hiromatsu would always show up. He was staying at his parents’ place at the
moment, and from what Matsuoka had heard, the pay he received for helping with
the family business was barely above part-time level. Coming to Tokyo every
week couldn’t be cheap. If he was pushing himself, it wouldn’t last. Matsuoka
had once suggested that he go visit instead—but Hiromatsu hadn’t said
yes.
He’d even offered to pay for the
shinkansen fare. The moment the words left his mouth, Hiromatsu’s expression
had stiffened, and he’d fallen silent. Matsuoka had broken out in a cold sweat.
It felt exactly like that time—when he’d tried to line up a job for him without
being asked. Like then, he feared he’d hurt Hiromatsu’s pride.
If Hiromatsu had gotten angry, it
would’ve been better. At least then he could’ve apologized. But if he left the
apartment without a word… if he wouldn’t even give him a chance to explain or
say sorry… Matsuoka felt a tight pain in his gut just imagining it, haunted by
the memory of how Hiromatsu had disappeared back to the countryside the last
time.
“Thank you for being concerned,”
Hiromatsu had finally said, after a long silence. “But I’m doing this because I
want to. You don’t have to worry about it.”
He hadn’t gotten angry. He hadn’t
walked out. But the look in his eyes when he gently stroked Matsuoka’s cheek
had been so sad, Matsuoka had known with certainty that the topic was
off-limits. He never brought it up again.
But just because he didn’t speak of
it didn’t mean Matsuoka wasn’t concerned. The worry lingered. After thinking it
over and over, he finally started cooking for himself.
Whenever Hiromatsu visited, they
always ate out. But every week, that added up. They always split the bill
evenly. Sometimes Hiromatsu would offer to pay, but he never let Matsuoka treat
him. If Matsuoka cooked, at least he could reduce the cost of meals a bit.
That said, Matsuoka’s culinary
skills were limited to yakisoba, tamagoyaki, and a handful of others. He was
good at curry—but he couldn’t very well feed Hiromatsu curry every weekend. So
he bought a recipe book with bold promises like “Super Easy!” and started
teaching himself bit by bit.
At first, the food wasn’t very good.
But once he got the hang of it, things started going better. He didn’t want
Hiromatsu to figure out why he’d suddenly taken up cooking, so he lied
and said it was because he had a company health check coming up.
Even though necessity had driven him
to start, cooking wasn’t all bad. At first, Hiromatsu would just watch over his
shoulder. But little by little, he started helping.
Honestly, Matsuoka could do things
faster on his own—and if he were being honest, Hiromatsu was more hindrance
than help. But the way he clumsily peeled potatoes, his face serious with
concentration, was adorable. When he nervously held up a too-thick slice of
carrot and asked, “Is this okay?” and Matsuoka replied, “Not quite,”
Hiromatsu would droop and look down—and Matsuoka couldn’t help but smile. He
loved him for that.
Even if it helped a little, there
was no way such superficial cost-cutting could solve anything at the root.
Matsuoka had discovered that there was a branch office of his company about
forty minutes by car from Hiromatsu’s home, and he’d looked into it. But it was
a small operation, and there were no open positions. When he casually brought
it up with someone he knew in HR, they told him, “That place is basically all
temp workers—there are only two full-time employees.”
“What if someone formally requested
a transfer?” he’d asked.
“No chance,” came the laughing
reply.
Matsuoka was steadily climbing the
ranks at his company. Being reassigned from headquarters to a rural branch
would mean stalling out—or worse, a step backward. He liked his work, and he
wanted to go higher. But more than that, more than anything, he wanted to be
with Hiromatsu.
If he were honest, he wanted
Hiromatsu to move back here. Apparently, his older brother and sister-in-law
had taken over the family home. If he hadn’t been laid off, Hiromatsu probably
would’ve stayed in the city. The only reason he’d returned to the countryside
was because he couldn’t find work. So if there were a job here… maybe he’d come
back.
While he was lost in thought, the
train pulled into the station nearest his apartment. He passed through the
ticket gate and hurried his pace. After all, Hiromatsu had come all this way—he
didn’t want to keep him waiting. Time together was too precious to waste.
“Matsuoka-san.”
He heard his name called from behind
while waiting at the crosswalk in front of the station. Turning around, he was
startled to find Hiromatsu standing there.
“Let’s go home together.”
He gave a shy little smile. Shirt
and jeans—Hiromatsu’s usual look.
“I came out to the bookstore, and I
figured you’d be getting back around now, so I thought I’d wait. You walked by
so fast I almost missed you.”
In his right hand was a small
plastic bag. Maybe the bookstore was just an excuse—maybe he’d come just to
meet him. Was that wishful thinking?
“Ah… sorry. I’m late. I ended up
talking with my old college senior longer than I thought…”
The light changed, and they crossed
together.
“You didn’t have to worry about me.
You could’ve stayed out longer,” Hiromatsu said, voice even as ever. There was
no need to read between the lines—he didn’t seem to mean anything deeper by it.
Still, if the bookstore had been just an excuse, maybe he had
been waiting, looking forward to seeing him. That thought made Matsuoka feel a
little guilty.
Something small and cool tapped
Matsuoka on the nose. Hiromatsu looked up, too.
“…It’s raining.”
They were less than ten minutes from
the apartment. If the sky could’ve just held out a little longer, they’d have
made it. The timing couldn’t have been worse.
“Matsuoka-san, let’s run.”
Hiromatsu suddenly grabbed his right
hand. Then he took off—and with his hand pulled along, Matsuoka had no choice
but to run too. Their clasped palms radiated heat. The distance wasn’t far, and
they reached the building quickly. They hadn’t run more than five minutes, but
by the time they burst into the entrance, they were both breathing a little
hard.
“You startled me, running all of a
sudden.”
The elevator rose quietly.
“I just thought we’d get wet.”
The rush had made his earlier drink
hit him all over again. A faint dizziness swept through him, and Matsuoka
staggered, instinctively grabbing Hiromatsu’s arm for support.
“You okay?”
“Yeah… I think the alcohol caught up
with me.”
Hiromatsu supported him from behind,
and as Matsuoka looked up, their eyes met. Then Hiromatsu drew him in closer
until their bodies were flush.
Even though they were alone right
now, someone could get on at any floor. Two men, embracing in an elevator—it
would be impossible to explain.
“Hiromatsu-sa…”
Before he could say let go,
his lips were sealed by a kiss. It was so brief, there was no time to push him
away—and the smile that followed, mischievous and delighted like a child’s,
left Matsuoka speechless.
The elevator stopped. Even after
stepping out into the hallway, their hands remained linked. It made Matsuoka
want to hide his face—not because he was unhappy, but because he was hopelessly
caught between joy and embarrassment. There was no one around to see them, and
still he walked with his head down.
Hiromatsu was a quiet man. But
sometimes, out of nowhere, he became bold. Matsuoka never saw it coming, and
every time, it caught him off guard.
Using the spare key Matsuoka had
given him, Hiromatsu unlocked the door. Even inside the apartment, their
fingers remained entwined. He hadn’t let go—and Matsuoka hadn’t wanted to,
either.
“You already ate, right?” Hiromatsu
asked.
“Yeah… What about you?”
“I stopped by a nearby izakaya.”
In the dim light of the entryway,
Hiromatsu looked straight at him. His grip tightened slightly. Matsuoka had the
distinct feeling he was trying to lead him somewhere, and heat started to rise
slowly in his lower body.
“Wanna take a shower together?”
It was Hiromatsu’s own kind of
invitation. He looked like he was ready to head straight for the bathroom.
Matsuoka set his briefcase down on the floor and gave a quiet, “Yeah.”
◇:-:◆:-:◇
They’d talked about going out on
Saturday. Maybe to a movie, for example. But the rain kept falling, and the
downpour was strong enough to make the idea of going outside feel like a chore.
As they exchanged glances, uncertain
of what to do, the conversation turned to Matsuoka’s favorite soccer team, and
they ended up watching a streamed match instead. Drinking beer in the
afternoon, the two of them lounged on the sofa, and at some point, Hiromatsu
dozed off with his head in Matsuoka’s lap.
Even after the match ended, he
didn’t wake. The gentle warmth soaking into his lap made Matsuoka feel content.
If Hiromatsu were a dog or a cat, he’d definitely be a dog, he thought. And for
a fleeting moment, he wished he really were a dog. If he were, Matsuoka
could keep him here. They could sleep together every night.
When they’d first started dating,
that happiness had come with an undercurrent of anxiety. The fear that one day
Hiromatsu might suddenly say I can’t do this, or I knew I couldn’t be
with a man, and leave him. But nearly two months had passed, and little by
little, Matsuoka had come to believe it would be okay. And that peace of mind
had come from Hiromatsu’s actions.
He was gentle. Thoughtful. He came
every weekend, and stayed over. They messaged and video-called every day—there
was no room for doubt. He was trying—loving as best he could, doing his part to
make this work. Matsuoka knew that. He appreciated it. And still… he
wanted more. Even knowing it should be enough, he couldn’t stop wanting more.
Their time together was always fun.
Whether they were tangled up like animals in bed, or just fooling around like
kids, it was always good. But come Sunday evening, Hiromatsu would leave. He’d
walk him to the station. And nothing felt worse than coming home alone after
that. Some days, just seeing a half-finished coffee cup made the emptiness
swell unbearably.
He wanted Hiromatsu to work at his
senpai’s office. If he moved here, he could live nearby. They could even pass
it off as a roommate situation if they needed to keep appearances.
…But if Hiromatsu wasn’t the one
asking for help, if Matsuoka tried to take care of things again like last time,
he was sure it would backfire. Just like when Hiromatsu had gone back to the
countryside.
He’d worked so hard to reach this
point, to finally have his feelings returned. He didn’t want to lose it all
again—not over something like that. So he couldn’t say it. And the
contradiction sat in his chest like fog, thick and cloying.
He already knew he couldn’t bring up
the job offer. But he hadn’t been able to say no to Rokujima either. It was
a good opportunity, and Hiromatsu was responsible and capable. He’d probably
work well with Rokujima.
If they were a man and a woman,
maybe this would be easier. But being two men… it brought all these
complicated, unspoken tensions with it.
…As that man, the one making him
suffer with all this overthinking, slept peacefully on his lap, Matsuoka gently
brushed his finger against his ear. Hiromatsu’s shoulder twitched slightly.
“Fake sleeping,” he muttered.
Hiromatsu slowly opened his eyes
with a guilty expression.
“I was really asleep—for most
of it.”
That excuse was so transparent,
Matsuoka couldn’t help but laugh.
“I never said fake sleeping was
forbidden,” he said.
With a small grunt, Hiromatsu sat up
and pulled Matsuoka toward him, settling him down in his own lap.
“You like sitting face to face like
this, don’t you?”
Matsuoka commented casually, and
Hiromatsu blinked, caught off guard.
“Do I?”
Matsuoka thought of last night—how
Hiromatsu had pushed him into a straddling position—and the image flickered
through his mind, but he said nothing.
“You do.”
“…It’s just that this way I can see
your face better.”
Hiromatsu pulled him closer, and
their lips met naturally. Matsuoka felt a flicker of want, but Hiromatsu only
nuzzled and nibbled at his chin, licking and teasing playfully, showing no real
intent to take it further.
“…Would you move here?”
“Hm?”
The words had slipped out,
unfiltered, and Matsuoka panicked.
“Ah—forget I said anything. It’s
nothing.”
He tried to brush it off, but
Hiromatsu was looking at him now, quietly, steadily. His gaze wasn’t intense—it
was soft, as always. But it was too much. Matsuoka couldn’t meet it. The
awkwardness made it unbearable to look back.
“Would it be better if I moved
here?”
Of course it would be—Matsuoka
thought so instinctively. But he couldn’t say it. Still, he wanted him
to come. Maybe he should make his feelings clearer. He hesitated and struggling
internally as his true feelings and polite facade wrestled in his mind.
“Matsuoka-san?”
“…We see each other every week, so
that’s more than enough for me.”
It was a polished lie that slipped
easily off his tongue, even as it wore the face of calm composure. Being looked
at while saying it made Matsuoka feel as if his entire heart were being laid
bare, and he clung to Hiromatsu’s neck to hide his expression.
The following week, Hiromatsu didn’t
come over for the weekend.
Matsuoka had assumed without a doubt
that he would. So when they spoke on the phone Thursday night and Hiromatsu
said, “Something came up, and I won’t be able to make it this weekend,”
a wave of unease washed over him.
“Things are really busy at home…
we’re short on help,”
Hiromatsu explained, his voice sounding apologetic—and Matsuoka didn’t doubt
him. And yet… he wanted to. He didn’t want to, but the seed of doubt rooted
itself. Especially after what he’d said the week before—Would you move here?
Maybe he’d come across as clingy,
like seeing each other every weekend still wasn’t enough. Maybe it had made
Hiromatsu think he was too much.
“I see. That can’t be helped,” he
replied easily, not pressing the matter. But inside, he was unraveling.
Normally, they could talk on the phone for over an hour without blinking—but
that night, Hiromatsu ended the call after just thirty minutes, saying he had
something he needed to take care of.
It’s fine. He has his own life, his
own responsibilities,
Matsuoka told himself, clinging to Hiromatsu’s words. And yet, dark memories
began to take over.
It had happened before—Hiromatsu
gradually pulling away from him. He’d stop replying to messages, take longer
and longer to respond, let the silence stretch out, inching away day by day.
What used to be a weekly meeting had
become every two weeks, then every three. Phone calls got shorter, emails
became rare… and then it ended. That precedent was burned into him—and it
terrified him.
He wanted to call back and ask, Do
you still love me? But he couldn’t. If Hiromatsu was staying away because
of what Matsuoka had said the week before, then calling again would only make
him seem even more overbearing.
When they were together, Hiromatsu
was so gentle. He made Matsuoka feel wanted, even cherished. But the moment
they were apart, Matsuoka lost all confidence in everything.
◇:-:◆:-:◇
It was a Friday night, typically the
time when Hiromatsu would visit. Not wanting to be alone with his thoughts,
which would likely lead to him spiraling into a bad mood, Matsuoka invited
Shinozaki out for drinks. Somehow, word got out, and before long, his
subordinate, Uemura, also asked to join. Matsuoka didn’t mind just the two of
them, but when he said, “Sure,” others chimed in, saying, “Me too,” “I’ll
come,” until the group grew to eight people.
They went to a cozy, reasonably
priced izakaya with good food, where they clinked their beer glasses together
in a toast. Lately, Matsuoka and Hiromatsu had been spending most of their time
cooped up in the apartment, so it had been a while since Matsuoka had been in
such a lively, noisy environment.
“It’s unusual for you to be free on
a Friday, boss,” Shinozaki commented, his words slightly slurred from the beer.
“Is it?”
“It is.”
From across the table, Uemura joined
the conversation.
“You’ve been leaving early on
weekends a lot lately. Is your girlfriend coming over on Saturdays and
Sundays?”
One of the male employees let out an
exaggerated, “Whaaat?!”
“Boss, you have a girlfriend?!”
“You didn’t know?” Uemura replied
nonchalantly. Everyone else seemed to be in on it, and no one else looked
surprised.
“Boss is in a long-distance
relationship. And he’s totally smitten,” Shinozaki added, speaking as if he
knew all about it. But all Matsuoka had mentioned was that he was seeing
someone who was very kind. Had he ever said it was a long-distance
relationship?
“He was even thinking of applying
for a transfer to a branch office in another region to be with her, right?”
There was a chorus of, “What?!” “No
way!” “You’re joking, right?” from the others.
“How do you even know that?!”
Matsuoka asked, his voice a mix of confusion and surprise.
Shinozaki just grinned.
“Kato from HR is a smoking buddy of
mine.”
“Are you really going to leave the
main office, boss?” one of the female employees asked, her eyes teary.
Matsuoka hurriedly waved his right
hand.
“No, no, that’s not happening. Even
if I applied, it probably wouldn’t go through, and I have responsibilities
here.”
“You don’t need to chase after her.
Why don’t you just bring her here and get married?” Shinozaki suggested. His
comment earned him a cold glare from the female employees, but he didn’t seem
to notice.
“Yeah, show us what she looks like.
You must have taken some photos,” Shinozaki said, leaning in closer.
“I haven’t taken any,” Matsuoka
replied. He had secretly taken a few photos of Hiromatsu sleeping, finding his
unguarded expression adorable, but he hadn’t told him and certainly had no
intention of showing them to anyone.
“No way, you definitely have,”
Shinozaki insisted, getting a bit too insistent after a few drinks.
“I really haven’t. They’re shy about
that kind of thing.”
“...She’s got to be beautiful,
right?”
“Huh?”
“I’m sure your girlfriend is
stunning,” Shinozaki said with conviction. When Matsuoka tried to deny it,
saying they were just average, Shinozaki stubbornly shook his head.
“No, I’m certain she’s beautiful.
And probably slender, delicate, great at cooking, and keeps the place
spotless.”
Matsuoka chuckled and took a sip of
his beer. “Your imagination is running wild.”
“I’m the one who does the cooking.”
“You cook, boss?!” Uemura asked,
genuinely surprised.
“Just simple dishes.”
“Why not let her do it? You don’t
have to cook if you’ve got a girlfriend,” Shinozaki said, pouting.
“They’re not great at cooking, and
my food tastes better. Besides, they come over every weekend, even though they’re
working full-time. I feel bad making them cook on top of everything else, so I
do it.”
The real reason was to save money,
but there was no need to be that honest.
“...You’re trying to win her over,
aren’t you?” Shinozaki muttered, his tone low and suspicious. His gaze had
taken on a slightly unsettling focus.
“What do you mean by that?”
“You’re handsome, good at your job,
considerate, and you can cook. You’re the perfect catch!”
“I told you, they’re not good at
cooking,” Matsuoka said, but Shinozaki didn’t seem convinced, continuing to
shake his head in disbelief.
The drinking party wrapped up just
before ten. The food had been delicious, and the conversation enjoyable.
Matsuoka knew that once he got home, he’d probably start overthinking things
again, but for a moment, he had managed to forget his worries and felt lighter.
Although they had agreed to split
the bill evenly, Matsuoka only collected a thousand yen from each person and
covered the rest himself. As they left the restaurant, Uemura bowed her head
apologetically.
“I’m sorry. It’s my fault the group
got so big because I asked Shinozaki if I could come.”
“Don’t worry about it. I had a good
time, too.”
Uemura apologized again and then
looked at Matsuoka, saying quietly, “I’m so jealous.”
“Huh?”
“Your girlfriend… She’s really lucky
to have you. You treat her so well.”
“Well, I’m the one who fell for them
first. I’m just doing my best not to get dumped,” Matsuoka replied, giving a
small, bittersweet smile.
“What are you two whispering about?”
Shinozaki butted in, breaking up the conversation. The group dispersed outside
the restaurant, and since Matsuoka and Shinozaki were taking the same train
line, they walked to the station together.
The alcohol had kept them warm at
first, but as they walked, the night air grew chilly. Matsuoka pulled on the
jacket he had draped over his arm as they walked. Out of the corner of his eye,
he saw Shinozaki take out a cigarette and light it. The familiar scent made
Matsuoka’s nose twitch.
“Speaking of which, boss, it’s
impressive that you quit smoking,” Shinozaki said, exhaling a puff of white
smoke.
“Sometimes I still want one.”
“Do you want one?” Shinozaki began
fishing in his pocket for another cigarette, but Matsuoka stopped him with a
raised hand.
“I can never stick with quitting. Do
you have any tips for how to make it last?”
“It’s hard to say. Maybe it’s
because my partner doesn’t smoke.”
Shinozaki let out a drawn-out,
“Wow,” and shrugged.
“Did she ask you to quit?”
“No, but since they don’t smoke, I
figured they probably didn’t like it.”
“Man, you’re amazing,” Shinozaki
said, shaking his head as he took another drag.
“You know, boss, you’re actually a
really considerate person, despite how easygoing you seem.”
“You could’ve left out the
‘easygoing’ part,” Matsuoka replied, cracking a smile.
“But quitting smoking just because
she doesn’t, or cooking because she’s not good at it… Don’t you get tired of
always being so considerate?”
“Not really,” Matsuoka replied. He
had never found it exhausting. What scared him more was accidentally stepping
on a landmine by not being careful enough and making things worse.
The train pulled into the station
just as they arrived, and they both ran to catch it. Shinozaki got off two
stops later, but Matsuoka still had six more to go.
He had boarded the train in a rush,
getting on at the nearest car, but it would be more convenient to be in a
different car when he got to his station. As the train swayed, Matsuoka slowly
walked through the cars.
The train car was relatively empty.
As Matsuoka scanned the seats, looking for a place to sit, he spotted a
familiar figure near the entrance. A checkered shirt and jeans. His heart
skipped a beat. Could it really be...? He stared intently, but since the person
had their back turned, he couldn't make out their face.
The train came to a stop, and the
man turned slightly to avoid the passengers getting off. It was Hiromatsu. No
doubt about it. Even though he had said he was busy with work at home, here he
was.
…He lied. The shock made Matsuoka’s
mind go blank. He backed away slowly, finding a spot near the connection
between cars, where he stood facing the wall.
He knew Hiromatsu was capable of
lying. When things got inconvenient, he would justify himself. Since they
started dating, there hadn’t been any signs of this, so Matsuoka had let his
guard down.
Despite knowing that he’d been lied
to, Matsuoka still clung to hope. Maybe Hiromatsu really had been busy, but
something came up, and he decided to come here after all. Matsuoka opened his
phone. The last message from Hiromatsu was a trivial one from that morning, and
there had been no contact since.
Matsuoka gripped his phone tightly.
Perhaps Hiromatsu hadn’t contacted him because he was trying to surprise him by
showing up unannounced. If that were the case, then being spotted like this
would make him look pretty foolish. Maybe he should just go over and say hi.
…But he was too scared to do it.
There was a chance Hiromatsu was coming to see him, but what if he wasn’t?
His worst fears were confirmed when Hiromatsu
got off the train one stop before Matsuoka’s station. As Matsuoka watched him
walk away, stunned, the train started moving again.
After getting off the train and
passing through the ticket gate, Matsuoka took out his phone. He hesitated for
a moment, then pressed the call button with trembling hands. Hiromatsu picked
up after five rings.
“Matsuoka-san, what’s up?”
Hiromatsu’s tone was as normal as
ever.
“Oh... it’s nothing important. Are
you free to talk right now? Are you working?”
“I’m done for the day. How about
you?”
“I was out drinking with some
juniors from work. I’m on my way home now. Are you at home?”
“Yeah. I was just about to go to
bed.”
There was no way Hiromatsu could be
home when Matsuoka had just seen him get off the train one stop away. Staring
down at the ground, Matsuoka felt a deepening sense of despair over the lies
piling up. Suddenly, he heard the faint sound of an engine revving in the
background on Hiromatsu’s end.
“Are you outside? I can hear a car.”
There was a brief silence on the
other end.
“Oh, uh, yeah. I just went to a
nearby vending machine to grab a beer…”
“You have work tomorrow, right?
Don’t drink too much.”
Matsuoka hinted at his concern and
quickly ended the call. But as soon as he hung up, he regretted it. He should
have confronted him, asked why he was lying, told him not to lie. Maybe he
should have gotten angry, even started a fight.
As soon as he got back to his
apartment, Matsuoka tossed his work bag aside and collapsed onto the couch. It
wasn’t like Hiromatsu had been cheating. It was just a small lie—wasn’t he
overreacting? Hiromatsu was allowed to have things he wanted to do without
being questioned. But if that was the case, why couldn’t he have just been
honest and said he was coming but had other plans? Matsuoka would have
understood.
The lies and the excuses he made for
them tangled together, making Matsuoka’s head feel dark and heavy. Deciding to
just go to bed, he walked into the bathroom, only to see the second toothbrush
he’d bought for Hiromatsu, who visited every weekend. Just looking at it made
his chest hurt, so he turned on his heel and headed straight to the bedroom.
Even the bed smelled like Hiromatsu, which brought tears to his eyes.
This isn’t good. Matsuoka jumped up,
returned to the living room, and grabbed his phone. Without giving himself time
to think, he dialed the number.
“Hello?”
This time, Hiromatsu answered after
three rings. Matsuoka had acted on impulse, so he didn’t even have the words in
his head to confront him. There was nothing but the urge to accuse him.
“Matsuoka-san?”
Even he found himself annoying. He
was so tired of his own behavior.
“Matsuoka-san, is something wrong?”
Hiromatsu’s voice was confused but
gentle. And that made it even harder for Matsuoka to speak.
“Oh, sorry. I dialed the wrong
number. I meant to call a coworker.”
He forced his voice to stay steady,
trying to sound cheerful. He could hear Hiromatsu chuckle softly on the other
end.
“You’re more scatterbrained than I
thought.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Thanks to that, I got to
hear your voice twice today. …Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Matsuoka replied before
ending the call. Despite the lies, Hiromatsu still said things that made his
heart swell with happiness. Matsuoka couldn’t make sense of it all. After lying
face down on the sofa for a while, he slowly got up and headed to the fridge.
He grabbed a beer.
…It didn’t seem like he would be
able to sleep tonight.
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