Cold Light - Chapter 4

The content warning is in the footnotes⁰.

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Red Flower

Fujishima hurried along, burying his face up to his nose in his scarf as the frigid wind carried away his breath like cold smoke. Only a few more minutes to his apartment. He usually didn’t notice, but this stretch between the buildings on either side of the street allowed the wind to cut through, making it especially cold.

Even though it was only eight in the evening, there was no one else around. The desolate street, lit only by streetlights, felt even colder. Despite wearing leather gloves, his fingertips were numb with cold. As he rubbed his hands together, the briefcase tucked under his arm slipped out and fell with a soft thud. Bending down to pick it up, he noticed white flakes landing lightly on the black leather. When he looked up, he saw snow falling in a radial pattern from the sky. No wonder it felt so cold.

Eager to escape to a warm place, Fujishima ran back to his apartment. When he arrived, he noticed that the window to his room was dark. He unlocked the door and, as expected, found the apartment completely dark inside. Apart from the noise he made, the place was silent. He turned on the light in the entryway. There were no shoes belonging to Tohru, so he hadn’t come home yet.

After locking the door, he took off his leather shoes. As he walked down the hallway and into the living room, he turned on the lights in each room. He immediately switched on the heater, but the spacious living room would take some time to warm up. He set his briefcase on the floor and sat down on the sofa with a sigh.

It was still cold, so he didn’t feel like taking off his scarf. He stared blankly at the silent TV, remembering that he had forgotten to buy dinner. Going out again seemed like too much trouble. He thought about taking a shower and going straight to bed. He might wake up in the middle of the night hungry, but...

He wondered if there was anything in the refrigerator he could eat. He couldn’t remember. When would Tohru come back? Or would he not come home tonight either?

Tohru had been very busy during Christmas and the first few days of the New Year. For Christmas, he had stayed at the hotel for several days to prepare special dinner cakes and custom orders. For New Year’s, he had been up early and worked late into the night, making cakes for a dessert buffet for guests staying at the hotel. Even when Tohru did come home, it was in the early hours of the morning. Fujishima would notice him slipping into bed, but by the time he woke up, Tohru was already gone. This mismatched schedule had been their routine for the past month.

It was always a busy time of year, but this year, Tohru had participated in a contest for young chefs and pastry chefs at the hotel. It was a small, internal event, but if recognized, the winner would be sent abroad for training, expenses covered by the hotel. Tohru often said he wanted to study abroad at least once.

Once the busy season was over, Tohru had been working tirelessly on his contest entry, baking cakes late into the night at work and bringing them home for Fujishima. While Fujishima loved cake, he couldn’t eat a whole one every day and often took them to work, where they were a big hit with his female colleagues and even served to guests with tea.

Since losing his memory six years ago, Tohru had graduated from a pastry school and started working as an apprentice pastry chef at a hotel restaurant. He had originally planned to work at the French pastry shop ‘Port,’ run by an older man he admired like a father, but he had been turned down. Tohru had been quite upset, but Fujishima knew that the older man’s refusal was out of a desire to see Tohru gain experience at a high-level establishment first. Tohru likely understood this as well.

After a period of confusion over his lost time, Tohru had chosen his path and was steadily moving forward. In the beginning, he often felt discouraged, but now he rarely complained. His work was fulfilling, and though Fujishima was glad for him, he couldn’t shake a lingering sense of loneliness.

Today was Fujishima’s thirty-fourth birthday. He had forgotten about it himself until one of his female colleagues mentioned it the day before, prompting him to remember.

Every year on his birthday, Tohru would take the day off and bake a cake to celebrate. There was a year with a three-tiered cake like a wedding cake, and another year when a simple cheesecake was decorated so beautifully that it looked like a painting.

This year, Tohru hadn’t taken the day off. He was probably too busy and had forgotten. Fujishima didn’t feel upset about it; the cake and celebration weren’t mandatory. It was a small thing. No matter how close they were as a couple, the intense passion of the early days doesn’t last forever. Rather than burning out quickly, Fujishima hoped their relationship could continue with a gentle warmth, lasting as long as possible.

Now that the room had finally warmed up, Fujishima took off his scarf and coat. He suddenly felt like having a drink, something he hadn’t done in a while.

Fujishima retrieved a bottle he hadn’t touched in a long time from the living room cabinet. Just as he was preparing a glass and some ice, he noticed his phone vibrating on the low table. It was Tohru.

"Hello?"

"Ah, Fujishima-san," Tohru's voice came through, addressing him the same way he always had, no matter how many years they had been together.

"What's up?"

"Well, I’m still at work...," Tohru said, his breathing sounding hurried, as if he was in a rush.

"I really can’t leave here right now. The thing is, I forgot something at home, and I need it desperately, but I don’t have time to go back and get it..."

"Should I bring it to you at work?"

"Sorry, I’m really sorry," Tohru's voice wavered as if he was bowing on the other end of the line.

"There should be a paper bag on my bed in my room—that’s it. When you get to the hotel, call me on my cell. I’ll come out to meet you. I’m really sorry."

"It’s fine, don’t worry about it."

After hanging up, Fujishima stood up and put on the coat that was draped over the back of the sofa. He reached for his scarf and noticed the bottle of liquor beside it. After a moment of thought, he opened the cap, took a few gulps directly from the bottle, and then set it down. Tohru would probably lose his infatuation if he saw him like this. But... the thought of how cold it was outside made him do it.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The white paper bag was large, about thirty centimeters (11.8 in) on each side and ten centimeters (3.9 in) thick, but surprisingly light despite its size. It made a rustling sound when handled. The opening of the bag was sealed tightly with tape, making Fujishima curious about its contents, but he couldn’t peek inside. The drink he had before leaving home had warmed him up nicely. Although the trains were still running, Fujishima decided to treat himself to a taxi, reasoning it as a "birthday reward."

"It’s cold out, isn’t it?" the elderly driver said as he struck up a conversation.

"Yes, it is," Fujishima replied, gazing absentmindedly at the snow-covered scenery outside.

"I can’t stand the cold. The roads get icy and slippery, especially in the early morning—that's when it’s the most dangerous."

The driver, perhaps bored, kept chatting, though Fujishima only responded with polite nods. The warmth of the car and the alcohol made him drowsy, and just as he was about to doze off, they arrived at the hotel. He stepped into the entrance and called Tohru.

"F-Fujishima-san, that was quick!"

"Really? I guess because I took a taxi."

"Oh, I’m sorry to make you go to the trouble. Once you're in the hotel, come up to room 3045 and knock on the door."

The hotel where Tohru worked was one of the most luxurious in Tokyo. Back when Fujishima had taken over his grandfather’s company, he had occasionally used this hotel for meetings and entertaining clients. He had no idea what the current room rates were, but even the standard rooms had been quite expensive at the time. Now, Fujishima would hesitate to stay there.

The change in his lifestyle didn’t bother him. He wasn’t looking to deny the value of luxury or the services that came with it, but he knew that it was all just superficial.

The elevator ascended noiselessly, causing a faint pressure in his ears. He swallowed a few times, and before he knew it, it had reached the thirtieth floor. The hallway was empty, and the dark green carpet muffled his footsteps as he walked down the corridor, lined with identical doors like a maze, until he reached room 3045.

When he knocked on the door, he heard the sound of hurried footsteps approaching from inside. The inner lock clicked open, and the door swung outward. Tohru stood there in a black sweater and jeans, looking relaxed. Fujishima had expected him to be in his work uniform, so it was a surprise.

"Thanks, I’m sorry," Tohru said.

"It’s no problem," Fujishima replied, handing over the paper bag. "Work must be tough. Don’t push yourself too hard."

"Well, actually..."

"Okay, I’ll—" Fujishima started to say as he turned to leave, but Tohru grabbed his arm.

"Come inside."

"Isn’t there someone else here? I’d hate to interrupt your work."

"It’s fine, just for a bit," Tohru insisted, pulling Fujishima into the room. The interior was different from the cold outside, with a soft sand-beige carpet and wide hallways. The room was simple yet elegant, with high-quality oak cabinets and spotless mirrors that exuded a chic, sophisticated atmosphere. The curtains were fully drawn back, and through the window, Fujishima could see the snow falling. The room was empty except for the two of them.

"Over here, over here," Tohru said, leading him to one of the two beds. Fujishima gasped when he saw the bed by the window. On the white sheets, red rose petals spelled out "HAPPY BIRTHDAY KEISHI." The romantic gesture, reminiscent of a honeymoon, filled Fujishima with a mix of joy and embarrassment, making his face flush with heat.

"Happy birthday! Did I surprise you?" Tohru asked.

"Weren’t you supposed to be working today?"

Tohru shrugged apologetically. "That was just a pretext to get you here. I’m sorry I made you take a taxi."

Tohru hugged him gently from behind and planted a kiss on the back of his neck.

"Happy 34th birthday."

A bittersweet feeling, like chocolate that was both sweet and bitter, welled up in Fujishima’s chest. Despite his happiness, he felt like he was about to cry.

"I didn’t think we’d do anything like this this year," Fujishima admitted.

"Huh? Why not?"

"You seemed so busy."

"That’s not fair," Tohru said, playfully shaking Fujishima’s body as he hugged him. "No matter what happens, I’ll never forget this day. It’s special to me. Since we always celebrate at home, I thought I’d change things up this year. I asked a coworker to reserve a nice room."

Tohru stepped away from Fujishima and tore open the paper bag he had brought. Inside was a white box tied with a red ribbon.

"Here, this is for you. A present."

It turned out that the gift was for Fujishima after all.

"Thank you," Fujishima said, accepting the box. Tohru’s eyes urged him to open it, so he did. Inside was a white scarf. It was light, warm, and made of high-quality cashmere.

"I spent a lot of time thinking about what to get you this year. I wanted to give you something you could use every day. There were a few colors to choose from, but I thought white would suit you best."

Tohru took the scarf out of the box and wrapped it around Fujishima’s neck.

"Huh? Wait a minute."

The scarf ended up wrapped multiple times around his neck, practically burying it.

"That’s weird; it looked so stylish in the display..."

No matter how it was wrapped, it was warm. When Fujishima chuckled softly, Tohru, looking a bit embarrassed, unwrapped the cashmere scarf.

"Come over here," Tohru said.

Tohru urged Fujishima to sit on the sofa. On the low table in front of him was a large white box. Tohru brought over some champagne and glasses, pouring a generous amount into each glass. Humming "Happy Birthday," he solemnly removed the lid from the box.

Inside was a pure white cake, fluffy like wool, with red petals arranged like footprints on top.

"It's beautiful," Fujishima murmured, and Tohru smiled with satisfaction.

"These flowers are edible," Tohru explained.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I searched all over for edible red flowers. I just had to use them as decoration for the cake."

They sat side by side on the sofa, clinking their glasses in a toast. Although a blizzard raged outside, with snow blowing horizontally past the window, inside, it felt like they were in a different world altogether. The alcohol seeped into Fujishima's empty stomach, the warmth spreading in a way that was almost comforting. Tohru cut into the snowy expanse of the cake with a knife, and Fujishima almost protested at the thought of spoiling such beauty. A slice of the round cake was cut and placed on a plate.

"Oh!" Tohru exclaimed quietly.

"What’s wrong?"

"I forgot the forks... I thought everything was perfect. Now I can't feed you a bite like I usually do."

By “feed,” Tohru meant that thing he always did at home, feeding Fujishima like a mother bird with her chick. Even though they were alone, Fujishima felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"What’s the matter?" Tohru asked.

"Nothing..."

"Are you embarrassed about me feeding you? But we do it all the time at home."

"I'm just tipsy from the champagne."

"You haven’t even drunk half a glass yet. You’re not that weak, are you?"

Suddenly, Fujishima remembered downing whiskey straight from the bottle earlier.

"I had a bit to drink before I came."

"Did you?"

"It looked really cold outside."

"I’m sorry for making you come out in the cold," Tohru apologized sincerely.

"It wasn’t too bad since I took a taxi."

Tohru’s eyes seemed to reflect a hint of anxiety as he looked at Fujishima.

"Are you mad at me?"

The question was unexpected.

"Why would you think I’m mad?"

"Just a feeling. I was worried you might have been cold."

"I’m not mad."

Fujishima pressed his eyelids with his right hand. "Nothing you do would make me angry."

"But you do get mad."

"No, I don’t."

"Yes, you do. Remember when we went camping, and I hurt my leg? You were really mad."

"That was... well, I was just worried about you."

There had been a time like that. As Fujishima faltered, Tohru chuckled softly.

"Even when you're troubled, you’re cute."

Instinctively, Fujishima covered his face with his hand.

"Why? I’m complimenting you," Tohru teased.

"That’s not something you say to a man who’s thirty-four."

"You’ll always be cute to me, no matter how old you get. As long as I think you're cute, I'll keep saying it."

"Please don’t."

"Why not?"

"Because it’ll hurt when you stop saying it, so please don’t."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Fujishima realized how ridiculous they sounded. Tohru reached out and gently touched his hair, running his hand over it as if reassuring himself of its shape.

"I’ll say it forever. I’ll keep saying you’re cute."

"Enough, enough already..."

Tohru hugged him tightly, and Fujishima felt tears welling up. Alcohol was no good; it made him too fragile. He thought he was okay... he thought he was fine even if his birthday was forgotten, but the alcohol had drawn out his vulnerable side. He felt pathetic, struggling not to show it. Even though he didn’t want to be seen like this, Tohru cupped his chin and lifted his face, their lips meeting. Tohru’s lips were warm and slightly dry. When Tohru's tongue nudged his lips, Fujishima instinctively parted them, allowing Tohru’s tongue to slip inside. The thick tongue wrapped around Fujishima’s, encasing it.

With his mouth filled with Tohru’s tongue, Fujishima felt as though he were drowning, gasping for breath over and over.

"Can I have a taste of the birthday boy?" Tohru whispered in a raspy voice into Fujishima’s ear.

"And if I say no, you won’t?" Fujishima replied.

"I’ll still taste you," Tohru said, his voice slightly pitiful, which made Fujishima laugh.

"Can I devour you right now?"

"Let me take a shower first. I came straight from work," Fujishima said.

Tohru stood up from the sofa and took Fujishima’s hand, helping him up. Just as Fujishima thought Tohru might carry him straight to the shower, he was suddenly pushed down onto the bed of roses.

Red petals scattered across the sheets, and one fluttered down onto Fujishima’s forehead. Tohru, still on top of him, picked up the petal with his lips. He then moved the petal to Fujishima's mouth, where they both held it between their lips. The indirect kiss quickly turned into a more intense, passionate one, as their lips and skin met.

"You're being rough," Fujishima said as Tohru stripped him of his clothes without letting him shower. In response, Tohru asked in a sultry voice, "You don’t like it this way?"

"...I don’t mind," Fujishima replied, wrapping his arms around the strong neck of the man now overtaken by desire.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Fujishima awoke to the sound of running water. The unfamiliar, expansive ceiling startled him until he remembered he was in a hotel room. Slowly, he sat up. The bed beside him was pristine, not a wrinkle in sight, while the bed he had been sleeping in was disheveled, the sheets stained with red marks. For a moment, he wondered if he had been bleeding, but then he realized it was just where the rose petals had rubbed against the fabric. Lifting the sheets, a petal floated up gently. Looking around, Fujishima noticed that the petals that had adorned the bed were now gone. Tohru must have cleaned up.

The large window was wide open, revealing the ongoing snowfall outside. The sound of water stopped.

"Oh, you’re awake?" Tohru appeared in the doorway, completely naked. Despite what they had done together, Fujishima found himself unable to look directly at him, averting his gaze in embarrassment.

"I’ve drawn a bath. Shall we take one together?"

"Y-Yeah..." Fujishima replied, glancing around for something to wrap around his waist. He spotted his clothes, neatly folded on the sofa. He considered the idea that walking around with something wrapped around his waist while Tohru was completely naked would seem odd. So, he got up, still naked, and gingerly set his feet on the floor.

As Fujishima tried to stand, his knees suddenly gave way, and his legs buckled beneath him. He couldn’t muster any strength in his waist. He thought he was going to fall, but at the last second, Tohru grabbed him and pulled him close.

"Are you okay?"

Even though he was accustomed to these kinds of activities and hadn’t thought they were particularly intense, it seemed that his waist had taken quite a hit. Leaning on Tohru for support, he took a few tentative steps. Just as he thought he was steady enough, Tohru effortlessly scooped him up in his arms.

"Wait—"

"I’ll carry you," Tohru said.

"I’m fine, I can walk."

"It’s okay, just relax."

As Tohru began walking, Fujishima hastily wrapped his arms around Tohru’s neck. The scent of Tohru’s masculinity, which had been teasing Fujishima’s senses throughout their intimacy, wafted up from his neck.

Tohru kicked open a heavy door with his foot. Inside was a spacious area with two sinks. Against the right wall was a large bathtub filled with water, its surface a vibrant red like a crimson carpet. The water was covered with rose petals.

Gently, Fujishima was lowered into the red, petal-strewn water. The petals swirled around as the water moved. Tohru joined him in the bath, causing a bit of water and petals to spill over the edge.

When Tohru moved closer and wrapped his arms around Fujishima’s back, supporting him under the arms, Fujishima murmured, "The roses are amazing." Tohru’s body, pressed against his, trembled with a quiet laugh.

"What do you think? I wasn’t sure if it was your style, but..."

"It’s beautiful," Fujishima said, picking up a petal that floated on the surface with his fingers.

"I used your birthday as an excuse to indulge myself. Sharing a rose bath with my boyfriend..." Tohru cupped his hands, scooping up water and roses, and then released them over Fujishima’s head. The petal-laden water soaked Fujishima’s already damp hair. He did this several times.

When Fujishima sensed that Tohru was about to scoop up more water, he grabbed both of Tohru’s hands to stop him.

"I’m already soaked... stop it," Fujishima pleaded.

Tohru slipped out of Fujishima’s grasp, then placed his hands on Fujishima’s waist and adjusted his position. Now they were facing each other, bodies pressed closely together in the red water.

"Sorry for getting you all wet," Tohru whispered, cupping Fujishima’s wet face gently.

"I just wanted to see your face like this."

"A little water won’t change anything."

"It does. You look even more seductive when you’re wet."

Their lips met again. Tohru’s lips were no longer dry. As they kissed repeatedly, Fujishima, who thought he was spent, felt a slow, tingling arousal begin to stir. Tohru’s hands drew him closer, causing the sensitive area to rub against Tohru’s stomach, making Fujishima tremble.

"Fujishima-san, are you getting turned on just from kissing?" Tohru whispered in his ear, noticing the change. There was no denying it; with his body rubbing against Tohru’s, Fujishima nodded.

"It’s turning me on too."

As Fujishima’s hips were easily lifted by buoyancy, Tohru’s hardness rubbed against him. It seemed like it was about to enter him, causing Fujishima to panic.

"Not tonight."

"Why not?"

"I have work tomorrow."

Yes, it wasn’t a Friday night.

"How about just my fingers?" Tohru asked, gazing at him with pleading eyes. He didn’t seem to expect a refusal.

"Just one finger?" Fujishima asked.

"Even if we do that, I’ll be the only one feeling good."

No matter how much Tohru teased him, it wouldn’t satisfy Tohru’s desires.

"Watching you feel good makes me feel good too. So please, let me use my finger."

Unable to refuse, Fujishima relented. Tohru’s slender, delicate finger entered him. Even though it was small, the moment it slipped inside, Fujishima’s body tensed. Tohru’s finger stayed still for a moment before it began to move gently.

"Don’t move your finger too much... the water might get in."

"Okay, I know..." Tohru whispered in his ear. He caressed Fujishima’s back, gently and slowly stirring inside him. When Tohru touched the spot that made him feel good, Fujishima’s head started to blur with pleasure. Even though the sensation he received was satisfying, a greedy part of him wanted more. He wanted something larger, something that would fill him completely, to stir him up and push deeper. Even though he had said not to enter him, he couldn’t bring himself to admit that he wanted it after all, so he just moved his hips in sync with Tohru’s finger.

"Fujishima-san," Tohru’s sweet voice murmured near his ear.

"Do you want me?"

Fujishima clenched his teeth and looked down.

"Did you start wanting me while we were doing this? Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle so it won’t affect your work tomorrow. Besides, your body is used to mine by now."

Tohru whispered soothingly, guiding Fujishima’s hips toward him. Tohru’s thick member, larger than his finger, was poised to enter. As it slowly pushed inside, Fujishima arched his back, but Tohru supported him.

"If you lean back like that, you’ll drown," Tohru warned softly as he guided Fujishima closer, still inside him but not moving. Tohru held still, keeping his promise to be gentle. He seemed to be mindful of Fujishima’s comfort, but this stillness wasn’t enough. Fujishima knew that if he started moving his hips now, he’d only confirm his own neediness.

"Fujishima-san, do you love me?" Tohru asked, their bodies still connected.

"Do you love me?" Tohru repeated, his voice insistent.

"I wouldn’t do this with someone I didn’t care about," Fujishima finally responded, gritting his teeth as he looked down.

"Yeah, I know," Tohru murmured, gently nibbling on Fujishima’s ear.

"Remember I told you I was entering a contest at the hotel? Well, I passed."

"Passed?" Fujishima echoed.

"Starting in April, I’ll be going to France for a year to train."

It was an incredible opportunity, a chance to study in the culinary capital of the world. The dream that Tohru had often mentioned was coming true. Fujishima felt both pride and a sharp pang of sadness. Tohru seemed destined for even greater things.

"Congratulations," Fujishima said.

"Thank you... But I don’t want to go alone."

At that moment, Tohru’s restrained movements grew bolder, making Fujishima gasp quietly.

"Come with me," Tohru said.

"What?" Fujishima was taken aback.

"Come with me to France."

Tohru’s embrace tightened around him, making Fujishima feel as if he couldn’t breathe.

"Stay with me," Tohru pleaded, his voice full of emotion.

Fujishima gently stroked Tohru’s head, torn. He wanted to say yes, to be there for Tohru, but he also felt that if Tohru’s request stemmed from anxiety about the unfamiliar, it might be better for Tohru to face it alone. This was a challenge Tohru needed to overcome by himself.

"It’s only a year," Fujishima said softly.

"A year is too long. I don’t want to be apart from you," Tohru said, his voice full of longing, almost childlike in his plea. It tugged at Fujishima’s heart, making him want to give in.

"But there were times before when we didn’t see each other for days," Fujishima tried to reason.

"That’s different. A year isn’t just a few days. It’s not like we’ll be just a train ride away."

"I’ll come visit you whenever I can get time off."

Tohru remained silent, tightening his embrace around Fujishima. As he struggled with his emotions, it seemed like Tohru might have accepted Fujishima’s reasoning. Finally, Tohru spoke again.

"Hey, Fujishima-san, do you think I'll always stay like this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. Do you think I'll stay like this forever? Or do you think I'll start remembering the past?"

Fujishima didn’t have the answer to what the future held.

"I'm worried that while I'm in France, I might start remembering things from before... and I don’t want that."

"That possibility has always been there," Fujishima pointed out.

"It's different," Tohru insisted. "Being here is completely different from being over there."

"If my memory were to return tomorrow, I'd have two versions of myself—one who loves you and one who might hate you. And if those two sides started fighting, I wonder which would win. I've only known you for six years, but the other me has twenty-two years of memories. I might lose, but even then, I absolutely don’t want to be apart from you."

Tohru continued, "So, if that happens—if the part of me that loves you and the part of me that hates you start fighting, I want you to fight for me. I need you to show the other me how many times we’ve been together like this, to remind him of the reality we’ve created."

"If you did that, the old you might get really angry."

"I don’t care if he gets angry, or cries, or throws a fit," Tohru said with a small, defiant sniff. "I know that being by your side makes me the happiest."

He leaned in for a kiss as he spoke.

"But... I'm still scared. If the old me is stronger, if he says he hates you, then you might leave me. And that terrifies me. France is already so far away, and I don’t want to be even further from you."

With the scent of roses in the air, the warmth of the water, and the tingling in his lower body from the close contact, Fujishima felt as though he was the happiest man in the world. Even though Tohru was voicing his fears, being desired by him, knowing he was loved, made Fujishima feel as though he might melt with joy.

"I know it's selfish, and I know you have work, but... I don’t want to be apart from you," Tohru said.

"I’ll stay with you," Fujishima whispered in Tohru’s ear. The man who didn’t want to let go of him... Fujishima didn’t want to let go of him either.

"I’ll go with you," he said.

"Really? Are you sure?" Tohru asked in a small, tentative voice. The question made Fujishima smile.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

It was hard to tell if they were talking in between having sex or having sex in between talking. Both seemed to flow naturally, seamlessly.

After being lifted from the red bath, Fujishima sat on the edge of the tub. Tohru gently dried his entire body with a pristine white towel, treating him with such care as if he were fragile. Wrapped in the towel, Fujishima was carried to the bed.

He was laid down on the clean bed, and Tohru climbed up beside him. Their eyes met, and they kissed again. They exchanged light kisses, one after another. When Fujishima opened his eyes, he noticed the rumpled, stained bed next to them. The sight excited him.

His stomach growled loudly, interrupting the moment. Embarrassed, Fujishima pressed his hands to his stomach, but the rumbling persisted.

"Are you hungry?" Tohru asked, tilting his head.

"I didn’t eat dinner," Fujishima admitted.

"What? Really? I thought you would’ve eaten by now since it’s so late. I’m sorry. Should I order something from room service?"

As Tohru moved to grab the menu, Fujishima caught his arm and stopped him.

"That’s okay."

"But your stomach is growling."

"I want to eat the cake."

Tohru blinked in surprise.

"I want to eat the cake you made for me. I haven’t even had a bite yet."

Tohru returned to the sofa and brought back the whole cake.

"Oh... I forgot we don’t have any forks. Just dig in with your hands, Fujishima-san."

Even though Tohru had given him permission to dig in, Fujishima hesitated. It would take some courage to stick his face into a whole cake like that, risking getting cream all over his face like a scene from an old comedy movie. He was hungry and wanted to eat, but...

Sensing his hesitation, Tohru suddenly plunged his hand into the snowy white cake, scooping out a handful of cream and offering it to Fujishima.

The roughness of Tohru's action surprised him. The cake had lost its original shape and beauty, but Fujishima leaned forward and took the offering into his mouth. The shape and appearance didn’t matter; it was still Tohru’s cake, and it was delicious.

When Fujishima had finished eating the cake from Tohru’s hand, Tohru dug into the cake again. The once beautiful cake was now a mess. It was funny to think that the one who had destroyed such a beautiful creation was also the one who had made it, all for him.

As Fujishima continued to eat the cake from Tohru’s hand, his body started to heat up with excitement. The sweet taste of the dessert lingered in his mouth as he carefully licked the cream from Tohru’s fingers.

Even after his fingers were clean, Tohru made no move to do anything else. He just gazed at Fujishima with eyes full of heat. Still wanting more cake, Fujishima scooped some out with his own hand. His hand became covered in cream as he brought it to his mouth. He was now far beyond worrying about getting cream on his face or dirtying his hands. He chewed the sweet cake, savoring it before swallowing, then licked his fingers clean.

"Can I have some too?" Tohru asked, even though he had perfectly good hands of his own. Fujishima scooped up some cake and held it out to him. Tohru grabbed Fujishima’s wrist and bit into the cake like a dog, licking the remaining cream off his fingers. Each time Tohru’s tongue flicked between his fingers, Fujishima felt shivers run down his spine.

"It’s like we’re two beasts in a cave together," Tohru murmured, lying on the bed in the luxury hotel.

"Is it because we’re eating with our hands?" Fujishima asked.

"Maybe, but I don’t care. I really don’t care about appearances. As long as it makes you happy, that’s all that matters."

After pushing the remnants of the cake to the side table, they embraced again. The kisses they shared were dizzyingly sweet, still tinged with the taste of cream.

The arousal fueled by their shared meal brought Tohru slipping between Fujishima’s legs.

"Ah..." Fujishima gasped at the initial thrust.

"Keishi," Tohru whispered.

Fujishima blinked in surprise at hearing his own name. It was the first time Tohru had called him by his name instead of "Fujishima-san."

"Keishi."

When Fujishima tried to look at him, Tohru averted his gaze, his ears turning red. Was he embarrassed?

"Tohru?"

"Is it okay if I call you by your name from now on? I’ve wanted to, but I’m younger than you, so I wasn’t sure..."

The idea that this had been on Tohru’s mind made Fujishima smile.

"It’s fine," he said.

Passion rocked his body as Tohru repeatedly whispered his name in his ear. As Tohru held him so tightly he could barely breathe, Fujishima gazed out at the snow visible through the open window. At this rate, it was sure to cover everything by morning. Just like that first birthday cake, everything would be buried in a blanket of white.

As he gave everything of himself to the man who loved him, Fujishima found himself longing to see the snow-covered landscape with Tohru when morning came.

Footnotes

0. Content warning: NSFW.

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