Cold Fever - Chapter 1 - Part 5

The content warning is in the footnotes⁰.

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During summer, crime rates rise. Tohru had read that in a book once. It made sense to him—the sweltering heat sapped people’s energy and sowed seeds of irritation that could grow into something much darker.

Lately, Tohru had stopped drinking naturally. Partly because he had no money, but also because heavy drinking severely affected his classes at the vocational school, and he hated that. But gradually, the sounds of people outside, the creaking of the hallway, started to fray his nerves, making it impossible to sleep at night. The humid, stifling air made counting sheep futile. He couldn’t get by without drinking.

Once things started to go wrong, they spiraled out of control. Hungover, the classes he attended felt boring, leading him to skip more frequently. And after each skipped class, he would inevitably fall into self-loathing. He was sick of himself—both for skipping classes and for the self-loathing that followed. By the time summer break arrived at the vocational school, Tohru had lost all sense of time.

During the break, days lost their meaning. It didn’t matter if it was Saturday or Monday, so he didn’t pay attention. The only thing that stood out was whether he was drunk or not. Before, he used to fill his days off with part-time work from morning to night, but now, he couldn’t bring himself to work. With nothing else to do, he spent his days at home drinking, heading out to the one part-time job he still had at an izakaya before Fujishima returned home. He’d come back late at night and drink some more.

That day, Tohru woke up just after noon, unsure of what day it was. He glanced at the calendar on his desk... It was Saturday. Since it was the weekend, Fujishima would be home. Tohru sighed, thinking it didn’t matter. Even when they were both home, Fujishima rarely left his room. Tohru knew better than anyone why Fujishima stayed in his room.

After using the bathroom and heading back to his room, Tohru heard the doorknob turn. Fujishima must have just returned home, and they met face-to-face in the hallway. The moment their eyes met, Fujishima quickly looked down, his right cheek marked by a large bruise that was starting to yellow. The last time Tohru had seen it, it had been a dark purple. Despite it being summer, Fujishima's long-sleeved shirt looked unbearably hot.

"I... I bought lunch," Fujishima said, holding out a plastic bag from the convenience store with trembling hands. All he had done was buy lunch, but seeing his frightened demeanor stirred a deep irritation in Tohru. He slapped the bag out of Fujishima’s hands and grabbed him by the collar. Fujishima hurriedly covered his face with both hands, a strange movement that made Tohru pause as he raised his right arm.

"Please, not my face," Fujishima whispered, his voice barely audible.

"They keep asking me, 'What happened?' People look at me weirdly even during sales visits. At first, I said I fell down the stairs, but after a while, they stopped believing me..."

Tohru forcefully yanked down Fujishima’s arms, exposing the yellowing bruise on his cheek, and slapped him right there. It was as if Tohru was trying to teach him that he had no right to choose where he got hit. After a while, Tohru’s hand started to go numb, so he stopped. Fujishima crumpled to the floor, clutching his mouth, and a thin stream of blood dripped from his hand. His back trembled slightly, as if he were crying, which only irritated Tohru further. He kicked Fujishima in the back, sending him sprawling from the hallway to the entrance.

Outside, Tohru could hear the cicadas buzzing incessantly. Sweat dripped from his forehead, running down his cheeks and chin. As he gazed down at Fujishima lying in the entryway, Tohru wondered where this unquenchable anger was coming from—why nothing he did seemed to calm it.

That evening, Tohru started drinking early, and by the time it was past nine, he was thoroughly drunk in his room. The empty beer cans scattered around exceeded ten, and Tohru found it amusing that he could drink so much without even having snacks or company. Despite all the alcohol, his fingers were so cold they felt frozen, possibly because the air conditioner was set too low. He stood up, intending to raise the temperature, but as soon as he took a step, he stumbled and fell back. His back hit the bookshelf with a dull thud. Shouting "Ow!" in frustration, he angrily kicked the bookshelf, but it only made his foot hurt more, which infuriated him even further.

Tohru collapsed onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling. As he gazed at the white-painted ceiling, he felt an overwhelming pressure, as if something incomprehensible was about to crush him. He knew he couldn’t continue like this, but he didn’t know what to do. He was barely managing to kick away the anxieties that loomed before him.

There was a knock at the door. Tohru’s shoulder twitched, but he didn’t respond. After a while, he heard a voice through the door.

"You're in there, aren't you?"

Tohru clenched his teeth and growled, "Get lost."

"If you don't want to see my face, that's fine. We can leave it like this, but I just want to talk for a bit."

Tohru slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"What do you want to do from now on?" Fujishima spoke in a small, whispering voice.

"If you don't want to see my face, maybe it would be better if we didn't live together. So please, tell me what you want."

Ever since the truth about their six-year relationship had come to light, every time Tohru saw Fujishima, he would punch or kick him. Just seeing him walk around filled Tohru with anger, making him lash out before he could even think. Over time, Fujishima stopped showing up in the kitchen or living room and started hiding in his room as soon as he got home from work. Yet, despite everything, he never forgot to buy Tohru’s meals every day.

Tohru clicked his tongue in irritation. Of course, Fujishima wanted to live separately to avoid getting beaten. If things became inconvenient or troublesome, he would just abandon him—just like always. Selfish, just like before. Tohru swore to himself that he would never leave. He would make Fujishima feel the same pain he had caused by ruining Tohru's life.

"What’s the most important thing to you?" Tohru asked.

Silence came from the other side of the door.

"I'm asking you, what's the most important thing to you?" Tohru demanded, crawling toward the door and kicking it forcefully. It seemed Fujishima understood Tohru’s intention to destroy whatever was most precious to him, as he didn’t say a word. Fujishima wasn’t foolish enough to reveal his hand.

"Hey..." Tohru asked again, addressing the person on the other side of the door.

"How many times did you sleep with me?"

As expected, there was no response.

"I’m asking you how many times you deceived me during those six years and slept with me. If you don’t answer, I’ll kill you."

After a brief pause, a faint voice replied, "...I don't know."

Tohru laughed harshly and flung the door open. Fujishima, standing in the doorway in his pajamas, trembled when their eyes met. His white face was swollen from the beatings earlier, his cheeks and even his eyes puffy. Tohru grabbed Fujishima by the collar and dragged him into the room. As he raised his arm to punch him again, his balance faltered, and he fell backward onto the floor. Fujishima, who had also tumbled down, accidentally kneed Tohru in the groin. Even though it was unintentional, Tohru was startled and shoved Fujishima away.

Tohru glared at Fujishima, who was on all fours, cautiously watching him. No matter how much Tohru punched and kicked him, the anger didn’t subside. The cloudy, depressed, and frustrating feelings remained. He wasn’t a child anymore—he was taller and stronger than the man cowering before him. If he wanted to, he could kill him. Tohru knew he should just let it go, but he couldn’t move on because of the trauma. The sexual assault and betrayals from his childhood had taken root deep in his heart. Until he could stamp them out, he wouldn’t be able to move forward.

Tohru slowly stood up, approached Fujishima, and grabbed the man’s hair while he was still crouching.

"Suck it."

He told himself that this man was nothing to be afraid of.

"Lick it clean for every time you did this to me over those six years."

Tohru pointed to his groin, commanding Fujishima. Fujishima looked at the spot with a pale face.

"And what will that satisfy in you?" Fujishima asked, his thin lips trembling.

"I said do it!" Tohru yelled, shoving Fujishima's face against his groin. Fujishima shook his head, squirming.

"Just do what you're told!" Tohru snapped.

Tears welled up in Fujishima’s eyes. The sight of him crying filled Tohru with rage, and he slapped him hard. Fujishima’s head swayed back and forth like a pendulum. Finally, Fujishima whimpered, "Please, stop hitting me," and unzipped Tohru's jeans. Hesitantly, he brought his lips to Tohru's limp member. His red tongue timidly touched the tip, like a kitten lapping at water—a clumsy, awkward attempt.

"Open your mouth wider," Tohru ordered.

Fujishima closed his mouth for a moment, then seemed to resign himself as he buried his face deeper into Tohru's groin. The moment the warm, moist space enveloped him, a chill ran down Tohru’s spine. The fear he felt was gradually overtaken by a growing sense of pleasure, and soon, that was all he could feel.

As the wet, sticky sounds filled the room, Tohru let out a harsh laugh. It was nothing—having a man do this to him meant nothing. He thought he had won... that he had conquered his fears. At the moment he thought he had overcome something terrifying, Tohru released himself into the warm mouth.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The night was stifling, filled with the damp air after the rain. That day, Tohru had gotten into a fight with a customer at work. The customer had been furious because a fireworks display was postponed due to the rain, and he had made a scene in the restaurant, shouting and causing a disturbance. Though the customer’s behavior was disruptive to everyone, hitting him had been a mistake, especially since Tohru didn’t hold back. The situation was only resolved when the manager repeatedly apologized, but Tohru was told to go home.

It was just after 9 PM—early—when Tohru rode his bike home. His irritation and the disgusting feeling in his chest seemed to seep out of his pores in the muggy heat. Annoyed by the red lights, he clicked his tongue several times, and suddenly, he heard the sound of a bell ringing. He wasn’t sure where it came from, but he heard it again—a light, clear chime.

The light turned green. The crosswalk was crowded, so Tohru had to walk his bike across. As he did, he passed by a child in a yukata holding a bag with a bright red goldfish inside. Even though the fireworks were canceled, it seemed the stalls were still open. Tohru had never been one for festivals, but he did recall visiting the stalls once. That was...

When Tohru returned to his apartment, he immediately went to his room. Lying on the bed, he kept replaying the incident with the customer in his mind, making him angrier. Deciding to grab a beer, he went to the kitchen, only to find that he was out—he had forgotten that he drank the last one yesterday. He slammed the refrigerator door shut and kicked it out of frustration.

Tohru went to Fujishima’s room and opened the door without knocking. There was a lump under the sheets on the bed, as if someone was sleeping there. Even after yelling "Get up!" there was no response, and Fujishima didn’t emerge from under the sheets. Frustrated, Tohru ripped the sheets away, revealing Fujishima curled up like an insect, trembling.

"Please, not tonight," Fujishima pleaded, his cheeks and earlobes flushed red as if he had a fever.

"...I don’t feel well. If we do it, I might throw up."

"Just do it," Tohru insisted.

Fujishima shook his head slightly.

"It’ll just make you feel worse."

Tohru dragged Fujishima off the bed by his hair and slapped him across the face. He slapped him again and again, turning his already red cheeks an even deeper shade. "Please... stop," Fujishima begged in a faint voice, making Tohru pause. Fujishima wiped the blood dripping from his nose with the back of his hand and started coughing violently.

"Use your hand today," Tohru proposed as a compromise. Fujishima didn’t say no. Tohru sat down on the bed, and after a moment, Fujishima approached him. Unzipping Tohru's jeans, he pulled out his member and wrapped his right hand around it, gripping and stroking it with varying pressure. Tohru exhaled as he watched Fujishima, his head bowed, working on him with his hand.

Since that day when Tohru first forced Fujishima to perform oral sex, he had made him do it countless times. Even though Tohru often returned from his night shift around 2 AM, if he felt like it, he would force Fujishima to service him. If Fujishima’s teeth so much as grazed him, Tohru would hit him, and if he spilled any semen, he would make him lick it off the floor. The feeling of a mouth was better than his hand, but more importantly, it was significant that it was Fujishima doing it. By being the one in control, rather than being manipulated, Tohru felt he was overcoming the trauma of his childhood.

A wave of pleasure caused his hips to tremble as Fujishima's fingers brushed the tip, but Tohru held back. He knew that if he could endure this, even greater pleasure awaited him. As Fujishima continued to serve him, Tohru wondered why the irritation deep in his chest wouldn’t go away, despite having "overcome" this man. The remnants of anger burned in his gut like embers.

No matter how much he kicked, hit, or made Fujishima suck it, the result was the same. Like fireworks, the satisfaction he thought he had found quickly vanished. As Tohru continued to ponder why, he began to suspect that there was something within him that would never be satisfied by this alone. It occurred to him that it might be the version of himself from those six lost years—the unfortunate self who had been deceived and violated by Fujishima, silently screaming that this wasn’t enough.

When he was about to climax from the strong stimulation, Tohru slapped Fujishima’s hand away. Fujishima trembled, and the pleasure that had been building up unraveled.

"Put it inside you," Tohru ordered.

"...I can’t do it with my mouth," Fujishima whispered, his voice as faint as a mosquito’s.

"Then put it in your ass," Tohru demanded.

Fujishima’s thin shoulders shook.

"If you can’t use your mouth, use another part. Take off your clothes."

Fujishima looked up and shook his head, trembling.

"Please, I’m begging you, not this."

"What are you talking about now? You’ve been doing this to me all along. Take off your clothes and get on top. Or would you rather get beaten so badly you can’t go to work tomorrow?"

Tohru grabbed Fujishima by the collar, and without thinking, Fujishima covered his face with both hands. Tohru shoved him to the ground, and while he lay on his back, Tohru yanked off his pajamas and underwear at the same time. He tossed the discarded clothes toward the door and then lay down on the bed.

"Hurry up!"

Fujishima slowly got up and approached him. Seeing Fujishima in just the top half of his pajamas was so absurd that Tohru couldn’t help but laugh.

"Make sure you use a condom," Tohru ordered.

Obediently, Fujishima retrieved a condom from the drawer in the headboard and slipped it onto Tohru’s member with practiced hands, almost like a professional. After preparing, Fujishima asked once more.

"Do you really... want to do this?"

"Stop whining and just do it!"

Resigned, Fujishima climbed onto the bed and straddled Tohru, facing him. Tohru kicked him with his heel, causing Fujishima to arch his back and fall off the bed. Before Fujishima could ask why, Tohru sneered, "Don’t show your face. It kills the mood."

Turning his back, Fujishima straddled Tohru again. But instead of moving, he just sat there on Tohru’s abdomen.

"Stop wasting time," Tohru snapped, slapping Fujishima’s back. Only then did Fujishima position himself and begin to slowly lower his hips. The tightness was beyond what Tohru had imagined, and as soon as the tip slid in, he nearly lost control. He gritted his teeth and held on as Fujishima slowly took him in until he was fully inside, then remained still, sitting on top of Tohru.

"You’re not a doll. Move properly. Stop making me tell you what to do."

Prompted, Fujishima began to move his hips. Despite the awkwardness, like a robot, there was a core-shaking pleasure that was unlike anything he had felt from a mouth or hand.

The creaking of the bed echoed through the room. Before Tohru knew it, he was drenched in sweat. He thought it was because of what they were doing, but then he realized it wasn’t just that. The air conditioning wasn’t on. As Fujishima moved, sweat glistened on the back of his red neck. Suddenly, Tohru remembered the child with the goldfish he had seen earlier. The red goldfish... He recalled the time he had gone to a festival and ran through the stalls, chasing after this same back. They had played a goldfish scooping game and caught two goldfish. He had carefully kept them in a bucket. But what had happened to them?

Even though it was his own memory, it felt blurred, as if shrouded in mist. Tohru wondered if it was just a story he had made up in his head. He almost wished it were. If it were a made-up story, perhaps he wouldn’t feel so disillusioned.

Suddenly, the tightness increased, and Tohru climaxed with a low groan. Even after he finished, Fujishima’s hips continued to move awkwardly, as if he didn’t realize it was over. The sight of it was so pitiful and absurd that Tohru shoved Fujishima off him. Fujishima collapsed forward, with the condom still on his body, and the contents began to drip onto the sheets.

Tohru adjusted his jeans and stood up. Fujishima was huddled on the bed, his back rounded. Through the hem of his pajama top, Tohru could see his half-erect penis, which made him feel both shocked and disgusted.

"What’s that?" Tohru asked.

Fujishima slowly lifted his face. Realizing that Tohru was staring at his exposed genitals, Fujishima quickly covered himself with his pajamas and looked down again. Tohru grabbed Fujishima’s bangs and yanked his head up, then spat in his face.

"Pervert."

Fujishima stared at Tohru blankly, his eyes as lifeless as those of a dead fish.

...Tohru remembered. He had named the two goldfish after themselves. The bigger one was "Big brother", and the smaller one was "Tohru." Despite being larger, "Big brother " had died first. He had been perfectly fine the day before, but the next morning, Tohru had found him floating belly-up in the water. That same day, Tohru had released "Tohru," the remaining goldfish, into the river, thinking it would be okay if a bigger fish ate him.

Even if it was just a goldfish, Tohru hadn’t wanted to see "Tohru" left all alone.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Tohru hung a plastic bag full of beer on the handle of his mountain bike and rode down the dimly lit road. It was past 7 PM, but the asphalt, which had absorbed the heat of the midday sun, was still warm, radiating a gentle heat.

He parked his mountain bike in the parking lot of Kusuda’s apartment complex, carrying the heavy bag of beer that dug into his fingers. When he rang the doorbell, Kusuda came to the door, smiled broadly, and greeted him with, "Welcome."

Though the calendar marked September, the heat lingered as if it were still August. That afternoon, Kusuda called and said, "I need someone to talk to." Since Tohru had the day off from his part-time job, they planned to meet at their usual izakaya, but it turned out the place was closed on Tuesdays. So they decided to meet at Kusuda's apartment, where they could drink without worrying about others.

As soon as Tohru entered the room, he took a sip of the beer he had brought along. It seeped into his sweaty back and parched throat, and the taste was indescribably satisfying.

"I’m just a guy with no real talents," Kusuda mumbled as he finished his second 500ml (16.9 oz) can of beer, his face slightly flushed.

"The job I’m in now... well, to be honest, I chose it just for the paycheck. I didn’t really want to do this work."

He scratched the back of his head while staring absentmindedly at the TV that was on for no reason.

"Even when I’m working, it’s just exhausting without any sense of satisfaction. But I can’t complain since it’s what pays the bills."

Tohru exhaled a puff of smoke and raised his head to meet Kusuda's eyes.

"...I’m thinking of quitting my job," Kusuda said.

"Quitting?"

Kusuda nodded shallowly.

"My older brother is a silver jewelry designer. He used to work for a brand called 'Delhart,' but now he’s going independent and starting his own company. He’s asked me to join him."

Kusuda let out a big sigh into his beer can.

"Though it’s just going to be the two of us—my brother and me. He says it’ll be fine because he has a steady clientele, but my girlfriend thinks I should be more cautious. No matter what, my current job is stable and pays well."

Kusuda threw his legs out in front of him.

"You’re lucky. You always know exactly what you want to do."

"But I don’t have any guarantees for the future... It’s the same as being unemployed."

"Even so, I envy you. Unlike me, who’s hobby-less and clueless about what I want to do. Finding something you’re passionate about and deciding to pursue it—that’s a talent in itself, if you ask me."

Tohru didn’t know how to respond. From his perspective, Kusuda seemed to have a much more solid footing in society. Even though Tohru had something he wanted to do, he felt like he was half-hearted about it. He wanted to become a photographer, to make a living from it, but he hadn’t picked up a camera in weeks. He no longer carried it with him everywhere like he used to.

"When my brother talked to me, I thought this might be a turning point. Running a business seemed like it could be interesting. But as my girlfriend said, it’s risky. If I fail, I’ll be left with nothing."

They both fell silent, and the lively sound of the television filled the room with an empty echo. Serious scenes were met with indifferent laughter. Tohru reached for his fourth beer.

"Even if you fail at changing jobs, it’s not like you’ll die."

Kusuda tilted his head slightly.

"It’s not that big of a deal."

After a brief pause, Kusuda suddenly burst into laughter. He laughed so hard he held his stomach, slapping Tohru on the shoulder.

"Yeah, you’re right. It’s not a big deal."

Wiping away the tears from his laughter, Kusuda looked relieved.

"I’m glad I talked to you. I feel better now. It’s an extreme way of thinking, but you’re right. It’s not the end of the world. If I can’t make ends meet, I can always get a part-time job or something."

Kusuda downed the rest of his beer in one go.

"Alright. I’m going for it. And if it doesn’t work out, you and I can work at a convenience store together."

"Count me out," Tohru said, exaggerating a shrug. Kusuda frowned playfully.

"If you keep being cocky, I won’t hire you at my company when you’re a bum in the future."

"I’d rather not be your underling."

They both laughed at each other, and seeing Kusuda so happy made Tohru feel the same. He never thought of himself as the kind of person who could give advice, but he realized that maybe he could.

"By the way, how’s Fujishima-san?" Kusuda asked out of the blue.

"...Same as usual," Tohru replied curtly. Kusuda shook his beer can and muttered, "Huh."

"I saw Fujishima-san at the station the other day, and he looked really thin."

"Thin?" Tohru echoed. Kusuda narrowed his eyes and nodded.

"You probably don’t notice because you see him every day, but he’s gotten really thin. He was always a slender and delicate-looking guy, but now he’s almost skeletal. I wondered if he might be sick or something."

Tohru saw Fujishima’s back almost every night. He made Fujishima "serve" him almost daily. Yet he hadn’t noticed any weight loss.

It had been almost a month since Tohru started using Fujishima as a substitute for masturbation. At first, he made him use his mouth, but after realizing that his rear was more satisfying, he had switched to that. Fujishima would move on his own, so Tohru didn’t have to do anything. Afterward, Tohru always checked Fujishima’s groin. The shameless man was usually erect, which gave Tohru an excuse to call him a "pervert" in the foulest terms... and he took pleasure in doing so.

"Maybe it’s just the summer heat," Tohru dismissed. Kusuda looked at Tohru with an expression that suggested he had more to say.

"Are you getting along with Fujishima-san?"

"Why are you asking that?"

"No reason. Just curious."

The conversation felt awkward, like they were talking past each other. Tohru started to feel like Kusuda was accusing him of not noticing Fujishima’s changes. He tried to wash down the strange, uneasy feeling in his throat with more beer. As he drank to bring back the buzz that was beginning to fade, Tohru suddenly realized something.

Kusuda knew that during the six years of memory loss, Tohru had been with Fujishima. A relationship between two men was abnormal. It wasn’t right. So why hadn’t Kusuda stopped it? If he had intervened, if he had separated them, Tohru wouldn’t have been exposed to Fujishima’s poison for so many years. Suddenly, Tohru felt a surge of resentment toward the man drinking beside him. Kusuda was a co-conspirator, wasn’t he? Tohru crushed his cigarette into the opening of an empty can, extinguishing it.

"Hey," Tohru barked. Kusuda frowned and whispered, "It’s late. Don’t yell."

"I... I know everything. What happened with Fujishima during those 'six years' I lost my memory... all of it."

Kusuda muttered, "What?" and his eyes widened in shock. He stared at Tohru for a long moment before exhaling a slow, thin breath.

"Did Fujishima-san tell you?" Kusuda asked.

"Yeah, he did, and then I..."

"So, how did you feel when you heard it?" Kusuda interrupted, his voice calm, stopping Tohru mid-sentence. Tohru wanted to continue speaking, but Kusuda’s question made him hesitate.

"How did I feel...?"

"I mean, being told you had a male lover while you were missing your memory—it must have been jarring, right? I heard you weren't into that kind of thing to begin with. Did it disgust you?"

"Of course, it did!" Tohru snapped.

Kusuda averted his eyes, looking troubled. "Yeah... I figured."

"If you knew about my relationship with him, why didn’t you stop it?" Tohru demanded.

Kusuda took a long drink of his beer. "Stop it? By the time I heard about it from you, it was already well established. It was around the second year of your relationship, I think."

"Even so, it wasn’t normal."

"To be honest, when I first heard about it, I was like, 'Seriously?' But you said you were genuinely in love, so I figured if you were that serious, it was fine. Besides, Fujishima-san seemed like a good person."

The idea that the "six years" version of himself had genuinely expressed love felt absurd to Tohru. He realized that he had been thoroughly deceived by Fujishima, so much so that he believed his twisted desires were real love.

"The way I see it, you and the Tohru who lost his memory might feel differently, but back then, you seemed happy with Fujishima-san. You two often traveled together, and you even decided to become a pastry chef because Fujishima-san loved cake."

Tohru felt as if his past self had been living a lie. Being coerced into an unwanted physical relationship was a tragedy. And yet, to hear that he seemed happy—there was no way that could be true. No way... As he repeated this in his mind, he remembered the countless photos stored away in the drawer, photos of a version of himself he didn’t know, smiling in each one.

"You might not see Fujishima-san as a romantic partner now, but don’t be too cold to him. He’s probably suffering too."

The gentle tone in Kusuda’s voice irritated Tohru, and he spat out, "He tricked me when I didn’t know anything."

"Maybe it seems that way to you now, but relationships are about mutual feelings. Even without your memory, if you really didn’t want it, I don’t think anything would have happened between you and Fujishima-san."

It felt like a slap across the face.

"Maybe you can’t accept it, but I think your relationship with Fujishima-san during those six years was consensual. It wasn’t about deception. And from what I saw, it seemed like you were the one more in love."

Tohru swallowed hard, his fingers trembling slightly.

"When you got your memory back, Fujishima-san asked me not to tell you that you two had been lovers. I think it was because he didn’t want to hurt you—like he didn’t want you to have bad memories of something you couldn’t remember. That’s why I’m surprised he ended up telling you. Maybe... maybe he wanted you to remember."

Tohru fought against the "what ifs" that started to creep into his mind. No, that couldn’t be. Fujishima was the one at fault. Tohru was the victim.

"Fujishima is a bad person, a hypocrite."

When Tohru was a child, Fujishima had tried to sexually assault him. When Tohru ran away, Fujishima ignored him out of spite, leaving him to be punished. Fujishima had been the only one Tohru could rely on, but he had betrayed and abandoned him.

"You say he’s a bad person, but if Fujishima-san were truly evil, would he have taken you in and looked after you just as a 'friend' after you lost your memory?"

"He did it because he wanted me!" Tohru shouted.

"He wanted you?" Kusuda asked, baffled.

Frustrated by Kusuda’s inability to understand, Tohru blurted out, "He wanted my body..." Kusuda looked momentarily stunned, then burst into laughter.

"Come on, you can’t be serious. Maybe if you were smaller or cuter, but someone as big as you? There’s no way he could have forced you into anything. And Fujishima-san is much more delicate than you."

Tohru quickly glanced down at his own hands—large, strong hands. He wasn’t a small child anymore. Fujishima couldn’t overpower him. Not ever again. Even if Fujishima tried to push him, Tohru could shove him away.

Tohru abruptly stood up, but the alcohol hit him harder than he expected, and he staggered, falling heavily to the floor. Kusuda laughed, "What are you doing?"

"I... I’m going home."

"You can’t in that state. Riding your bike drunk is just as bad as drunk driving. Stay here. But I’m warning you, I’ll charge you for lodging."

Annoyed at his uncooperative body, Tohru crouched down, his head pounding. Images of those smiling photos spun around in his mind like a nightmare. He wanted to ask the version of himself from those six years—what were you thinking, being with that man?

At some point, Tohru must have fallen asleep. When he woke up, it was the middle of the night. Kusuda was snoring softly, surrounded by empty beer cans. After drinking a glass of water in the kitchen, Tohru quietly left Kusuda’s apartment. At 3 AM, he rode his mountain bike down the empty streets, feeling as though he were the only person left in the world.

By 3:30 AM, Tohru had returned to his apartment complex, but instead of going inside, he entered a nearby park. He propped his bike against some bushes and sat on a bench. In the windless night, under the glow of the streetlights, Tohru sat there, head bowed, feeling frustrated at his own hesitation to go inside.

He clutched his head. The naked photos, so many of them... He understood why they used Polaroids—those embarrassing photos couldn’t be sent out for development. At first, Tohru thought Fujishima had taken those photos just to "enjoy" himself. But it wasn’t only pictures of Tohru; there were also pictures of Fujishima. There were pictures of the two of them together.

If those photos weren’t of him... Tohru tried to put himself in someone else’s shoes. Why had they taken those photos? He thought and thought until he realized there could only be one reason to take pictures like that.

People take photos because they want to preserve memories. Lovers take pictures of themselves expressing their love because they want to hold onto those moments. Could that really be all there was to it?

As dawn began to break, Tohru returned to the apartment. The light at the entrance was on. He walked straight to his room and lay down on the bed. Sleep didn’t come easily. He thought he heard footsteps in the hallway, but when he pressed his ear against the door, there was nothing. When he quietly opened the door, he found the hallway dark.

He walked slowly down the dark corridor and stopped in front of Fujishima’s room. He stood there for a while but eventually returned to his own room without saying anything. He just wanted to know if Fujishima had been waiting for him to come back. But he didn’t know how to start that conversation.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

On Saturday night, just past ten, Tohru visited Fujishima’s room. Even though he opened the door without knocking, the man sitting in the chair didn’t seem surprised. He slowly turned around... as if he had expected it.

The curtains swayed as a cool breeze blew in through the wide-open window. Fujishima stood up, closed the window, drew the curtains, and turned on the air conditioning.

Tohru had intended to talk, but he couldn’t find the words. He didn’t know where to begin. Ever since that night at Kusuda’s apartment, he had felt the need to talk. But he couldn’t find a way to start the conversation.

Feeling awkward just standing there, he plopped down onto the bed. Without a sound, Fujishima approached and knelt in front of him. When Fujishima reached for his zipper, Tohru started to say, “Today…” but stopped himself. Doing this was far easier than talking.

As Fujishima buried his face in Tohru’s crotch, Tohru thought about how the "six years" version of himself might have seen this man—without the memories of being sexually assaulted and betrayed, what would he have thought of Fujishima?

Lying on his back, Tohru felt the pleasure, nothing more than a tremor of sensation transmitted from his own body. Even during sex, what was forgotten remained forgotten, and what wasn’t remembered didn’t return. The only thing present was the physical pleasure.

When Tohru sat up, Fujishima leaned forward slightly, as if it had become difficult to move. His movements slowed. Tohru lifted the back of Fujishima’s pajama top, exposing his back. Fujishima’s body trembled. His back was shockingly thin, almost frail. His ribs jutted out like those of a starving cat. His back was mottled with yellow and purple bruises.

Feeling a pang of guilt, Tohru closed his eyes and lay back down, but Fujishima didn’t stop moving. Sensing that Tohru had finished, Fujishima pulled out and cleaned up the condom. Tohru caught a glimpse of Fujishima’s groin and noticed he wasn’t erect, but the front of his pajamas was wet—Fujishima had climaxed before Tohru.

Fujishima got off the bed and staggered toward the closet, stripping off his soiled clothes. He seemed to be planning to change. Tohru knew it was time for him to leave the room, but tonight, for some reason, he didn’t want to be alone.

“Face me this time,” Tohru said.

Fujishima turned, tilting his head in confusion. “Huh?”

“I’m tired of doing it from behind. Get me hard, and then face me.”

“But...”

The hesitation felt like rejection, and Tohru’s irritation flared. “Stop whining and get over here!”

Trembling, Fujishima slowly approached the bed, completely naked. He climbed onto the bed, touching Tohru tentatively. It took time for Tohru to get aroused again. During that time, Fujishima used his hands and mouth to stimulate him. After about thirty minutes, Tohru was finally hard enough, and Fujishima straddled him, facing forward. When he fully lowered himself, a small gasp escaped his lips. He knelt on the bed, moving his hips up and down, side to side. Tohru noticed that Fujishima’s desire was becoming evident as well.

Fujishima’s front, like his back, was covered in bruises of various colors. His pale skin made them stand out even more. But what caught Tohru’s eye were Fujishima’s pale-colored nipples, a gentle shade amidst the painful purples, blues, and yellows.

Their eyes met. Fujishima’s looked tired. Suddenly, Fujishima’s movements stopped. He slowly leaned over Tohru. The boldness of the action made Tohru tense, expecting a kiss. But instead, Fujishima placed his elbows on either side of Tohru’s head and covered Tohru’s eyes with his hands. As he moved his hips, all Tohru could feel was the sensation of being inside Fujishima and the pressure of Fujishima’s body against his stomach.

"...What are you doing?" Tohru asked.

"I’m making sure you can’t see."

"I’m asking why you’re doing that," Tohru pressed.

After a slight pause, Fujishima muttered, "Because you said it made you lose your erection."

Tohru had indeed said that at the beginning—that seeing Fujishima’s face made him lose his arousal. He had completely forgotten about it until now. Whether Fujishima had covered his eyes to make the sex more efficient or out of consideration for Tohru, Tohru couldn’t decide. In the end, Tohru came, the second time in a row leaving him exhausted. Fujishima panted heavily on top of him. After a while, Fujishima lifted himself off, and Tohru’s wet abdomen was carefully wiped clean.

Normally, Tohru would have gone back to his own room immediately, but he didn’t this time. Instead, he crawled under the covers of Fujishima’s bed. He wasn’t sleepy at all, but he closed his eyes, pretending that he was. He wanted to see what Fujishima would do now that Tohru had taken over his bed.

He heard the rustling of clothes as Fujishima put on some fresh ones. Then, he heard footsteps approaching the bed. Tohru could sense Fujishima nearby.

"...Tohru?" Fujishima called his name softly. But Tohru didn’t respond. A moment later, Fujishima pulled the sheet up from Tohru’s shoulder to his chest, tucking him in like a mother caring for a restless child.

In the quiet room, the ticking of the clock’s second hand was loud. From outside, the faint sound of a car horn reached his ears.

"Tohru," Fujishima called again. But Tohru didn’t open his eyes. He felt that if he did, Fujishima would disappear. He felt a touch on his right hand, which was exposed from under the sheet. Gently, tentatively, Fujishima’s fingers brushed against his.

"A bit late, but happy birthday."

Two days ago, Tohru had turned twenty-nine. But instead of feeling any joy, he just felt like he was getting older without purpose. He hadn't expected Fujishima to remember his birthday, a day Tohru himself wanted to forget.

"I even bought you a present..." Fujishima whispered.

As Fujishima softly stroked his fingers, Tohru unexpectedly fell asleep, waking up past four in the morning. The room was dark, and Fujishima was gone. When he looked around, he found Fujishima sleeping on the living room sofa, wrapped in a blanket.

Looking down at the sleeping man in the dim room, Tohru felt a surge of anger. Fujishima had been by his side, but then he just left on his own. He spoke to Tohru while he was asleep but said nothing to him when he was awake...

Tohru couldn’t sort out the stormy, ambiguous emotions churning in his chest. However, he didn’t feel the urge to wake Fujishima up and kick him. Strangely, that thought didn’t even cross his mind.

Footnotes

0. Content warning: NSFW, dubcon, r*pe, violence.

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