"Goodbye," you waved your hand: Chapter 3 - part 1

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There are times when hearing simple words like "Welcome back" or "I'm home" makes me inexplicably angry. When my heart feels pitch-black, and for no reason at all, I just want to break something, I wonder—what do other people do when they feel that way? Am I the only one who thinks or feels like this? I’ve never told anyone about it, and even if I did, I don’t think anyone would understand. Everyone only talks about games, manga, and girls.

So, I keep quiet. I stay silent and think. I think about why my heart turns black. And I keep thinking about it, endlessly.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

From when Takayuki Himi was in elementary school to now as a middle schooler, Kunihiro's room always had the feeling of "someone else's house." Takayuki slowly looked around the room, tilting his head. Of course, it made sense—it wasn’t his home—but of all the houses he had ever visited, this one made him feel the most unwelcome, like it was actively pushing him away. Maybe it was because it was so clean, so devoid of the smell of life. Whether standing or sitting, he felt restless, shifting his school bag from one hand to the other until he finally settled into a corner of the room. Taking a deep breath, he pressed his back hard against the wall. The feeling of being squeezed from both sides somehow made him feel safe.

“Why are you sitting in the corner like that? It’s cold over there. Come sit by the heater.”

Kunihiro shrugged, glancing over at him. Takayuki didn’t reply. He just hugged his knees tighter. Right now, he felt like a rock by the roadside—no matter what anyone said to him, he wouldn’t hear it.

“Say something. You’ve got no charm, you know that?”

Takayuki raised his head to look at the adult standing over him, a man at least two and a half times his age. The man stood with his hands on his hips, his mouth closing into a straight line before his cheek tugged upward in an awkward smile.

“Don’t glare at me like that. It’s scary. You’ve got a cute enough face like Keisuke’s, but you always look so grumpy.”

People often said that to him, even though he wasn’t trying to glare. His first friend in middle school had admitted later that they hesitated to approach him because “you always looked like you were in a bad mood.” After that, the fear of being misunderstood made it hard for Takayuki to look people in the eye.

When he averted his gaze, he saw a blue sky—a photo on the wall, pinned up by a single tack. The sky in the picture was a pale, washed-out blue with fluffy white clouds, and it had been hanging there for as long as he could remember, like a forgotten relic. But just beyond the nearby window, it was night—dark, with only the occasional small flash of light. Probably from passing cars.

“You did tell your dad you were coming to my place, right? I don’t want to hear another call like last time, where Keisuke said he’d filed a missing persons report.”

Takayuki wished he could destroy his useless mouth. That way, he wouldn’t have to say anything.

“Geez... what a pain,” Kunihiro muttered, ruffling his short hair as he grabbed his phone. He pressed a few buttons and glanced sideways at Takayuki before making the call.

“Ah, Keisuke? Oh, it’s Seiichi. Well, you’ll do. Listen, Takayuki’s here at my place again. Yeah, I don’t mind at all, but he’s in a pretty bad mood, as usual. Happens every time he comes here. But anyway, he says he doesn’t want to go home, so just let Keisuke know he’s staying with me tonight. Alright, later.”

Kunihiro ended the call, and Takayuki felt a small wave of relief. His place for the night was secured. Suddenly, his vision went dark, and he flailed in surprise, trying to push away whatever was enveloping him. It turned out to be Kunihiro’s black coat, which smelled faintly of cigarettes. Kunihiro laughed as Takayuki peeked out.

“Let’s go grab something to eat. You must be hungry.”

Right on cue, Takayuki’s stomach growled. He was hungry. The coat was too big, making him feel like he was floating. As he diligently buttoned it up, Kunihiro’s large hand tousled his hair.

“Keisuke’s probably making some great food for you back at home, so why do you keep coming to my place instead?” Kunihiro’s hand was rough but warm.

For some reason, Takayuki felt an overwhelming urge to cry. But he didn’t. Crying wouldn’t make any sense right now. So, he held it in.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Men and women have sex. A guy’s thing gets hard, and he puts it into a special place on a woman. A friend had whispered this explanation once. Takayuki had no idea what the woman’s “special place” actually was. Sometimes there were scenes on TV that looked like people were having sex, but they never showed what was happening below the waist. It was still a mystery. He had never seen two men having sex on TV. That was because if they did, people would say it was weird.

But his dad and Seiichi had sex. Yet, if they didn’t come out and say “we’re having sex,” no one would know. When some old man dressed in drag or a flamboyant guy with a lisp appeared on TV, people would point and laugh. They’d say, “That’s a bit gross,” or “He’s a pervert,” mocking them. But no one ever pointed at his dad and said, “Takayuki’s dad is a pervert. He’s gross.”

“Get dressed already! Everyone’s heading out!” A sudden smack on the back snapped him out of his daze. Though it was daytime, he had felt like he was in a dream. He turned to see Asou-kun shifting impatiently, glancing up at the clock.

“Only five minutes left! And you know Pochi’s gonna yell, ‘Run!’ if we’re late.”

The gym teacher had a small bald spot right in the middle of his head. Ever since someone joked, “Looks like something fell off,” he’d been nicknamed Pochi. He was always in a worn-out tracksuit, looking tired and sloppy. Takayuki didn’t feel like going to PE. Just the thought of it made him feel sick.

“I’m not feeling well. I’m going to the nurse’s office,” he said.

Asou-kun frowned. “Seriously? Last time you said your stomach hurt out of nowhere and skipped class too. Why does this keep happening?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t feel good.”

Leaving his gym clothes and Asou-kun behind, Takayuki walked out of the classroom. The nurse’s office, his favorite place, was empty. No nurse, no students—just warm sunlight streaming in and the inviting bed. He kicked off his slippers and crawled under the sheets. The warmth was comforting, and he felt good. Yesterday, he had stayed over at Kunihiro’s house. He hadn’t slept well in someone else’s bed.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

...In the stifling heat just before waking, Takayuki suddenly remembered last year. It was the first summer after he’d entered middle school. That day, the weather had been perfect, and the daylight seemed to stretch on forever. He came home from school, the sun set, he grew hungry, and even when midnight rolled around, neither his father nor Seiichi had returned. There had been no contact from them. When he called the hotel where his father worked, they told him that he had left, just like always. But still, neither of them came home.

The first thought that crossed his mind was that they had abandoned him. He sat on the living room sofa, where he could see the entrance, waiting desperately for the door to open. He couldn’t bring himself to say out loud that he was lonely, because if he did, he knew he’d start crying. As dawn approached, he started to nod off, only to be startled awake by the doorbell. He jumped up and rushed to the door. Standing there was Kunihiro.

"Are you okay? You weren’t lonely, were you?"

It wasn’t his father or Seiichi, but Kunihiro’s large hand that reached out to ruffle his hair.

“Seiichi got into an accident while he was on a business trip in Fukuoka. Your dad went with him, and he said he’ll be in the hospital for a while. He tried calling the house phone, but it must’ve been off the hook or something, so he asked me to check on you. I wish I could’ve come sooner, but I only got the call a little while ago.”

Kunihiro sighed and shrugged apologetically. 

“Apparently, the injury isn’t too serious, but your dad gets all frantic when it comes to Seiichi.”

Again, Takayuki thought, it was just like before. He remembered a similar incident when Seiichi had caught a cold. His father had taken time off from the hotel to take care of him. But when Takayuki had gotten sick afterward, his father didn’t take a break from work. His father had been kind and concerned, but still, the difference between him and Seiichi was stark.

"By the way, have you eaten breakfast?" Kunihiro asked. When Takayuki shook his head, he said, “Let’s go grab something outside,” and Takayuki couldn’t refuse. It was clear Kunihiro wanted to eat, and Takayuki didn’t feel like arguing. Reluctantly, he changed into his middle school uniform, grabbed his bag, and followed Kunihiro out of the house. They went to a burger joint, where Kunihiro ordered a breakfast set. Takayuki barely touched his food—the smell of the hamburger made him nauseous—while across from him, Kunihiro wolfed down his meal like a dog.

As Takayuki stared at the layers of lettuce, tomato, and burger patty in Kunihiro’s sandwich, he found himself wondering where he ranked in his father’s life. His father’s favorite person was Seiichi, and the person he cared for the most was also Seiichi. Did that make Takayuki second? Somehow, it didn’t even feel like he was second. His father was kind to everyone, even stray cats on the street. To his father, anything that wasn’t first seemed to all blur together.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Kunihiro leaned over the table, peering at Takayuki’s face.

“Middle schoolers should be eating more than that, don’t you think?”

The grating sound of his voice rubbed Takayuki the wrong way. Whether he ate or didn’t, it was his choice—it didn’t matter to Kunihiro. His hunger wouldn’t change because Takayuki wasn’t eating.

“Just… shut up.”

Kunihiro’s expression darkened, and only then did Takayuki realize his mistake. He had forgotten to choose his words carefully. Kunihiro fell silent. The heavy feeling that had been building inside Takayuki intensified, and the world in front of him turned gray. It would have been better if Kunihiro had yelled at him, scolded him. It was too late to regret his words now. It took him a moment to realize that Kunihiro had only spoken up because he noticed Takayuki wasn’t eating and had been worried.

“Fine. Let’s go,” Kunihiro said, standing up abruptly. He said little else, and Takayuki trailed behind him as they left the restaurant. The summer heat and the awkwardness between them made Takayuki feel dizzy. He found himself wondering who Kunihiro’s number one was.

…The heat that day and the heat now were the same. His body felt sticky with sweat, and it made him uncomfortable. As he shifted in bed, trying to find some relief, the mattress creaked softly. He heard footsteps approach, and the curtain around the bed was pulled back. The school nurse, glasses perched on her nose, smiled down at him.

"How are you feeling?" the nurse asked.

"I was feeling sick, but it’s better now."

The nurse nodded slightly. "That’s good. It’s already past three—do you think you can go back to your sixth-period class?"

The thought of moving made him feel nauseous again.

"It’s gym. Can I stay here a little longer?"

"I suppose," she sighed.

"You’re Himi-kun from Class 2-C, right? You’ve been feeling unwell quite often. Has anyone ever said you have a weak constitution?"

"No," Takayuki replied.

He had genuinely felt sick, but there was something in the nurse’s tone that suggested she thought he was faking it. Like she didn’t fully believe him. Maybe she thought he was a bad kid. The room suddenly felt stifling. Everything was bothering him. He was filled with frustration and a growing heaviness in his chest, something dark that was slowly expanding. Was it just him? Didn’t others feel this way too?

Once again, he found himself thinking, I don’t want to go home today…

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The front door was cold, and the concrete beneath his feet even colder. The wind that blew against his face felt like ice. Rubbing his gloved hands together, Takayuki breathed into them, only to watch the warmth instantly freeze into a white mist. It was already pitch black outside, and yet, Kunihiro still hadn’t returned. Curling up like a hibernating bear, Takayuki waited. He was hungry and cold, but he didn’t want to go home. When would Kunihiro finally come back? Would it be another hour? Two hours? Maybe he had the night shift and wouldn’t return until morning.

Even though he had no watch and couldn’t tell the time, it didn’t bother him. Strangely, he thought it wouldn’t matter if morning never came. That way, tomorrow wouldn’t exist either.

Footsteps echoed on the stairs. A head appeared, and soon after, Kunihiro’s face came into view. Normally, Kunihiro walked quickly, like he was always in a rush, but today his steps were slow, unsteady. As he reached the top of the stairs, Kunihiro wobbled to the right, crashing into the iron railing and slumping down. Takayuki, startled, rushed over, but by the time he got there, Kunihiro was already standing again, shaking himself off irritably. His face twisted into a scowl as he stared down at Takayuki.

“What the hell, kid? Didn’t you promise you’d go home today?” Kunihiro shouted, his voice loud and his hand slapping Takayuki’s shoulder hard enough to hurt.

“I don’t want to go home,” Takayuki muttered. Kunihiro’s eyes were red, the telltale sign of a drunk. He let out a long breath that stank of alcohol, scratching his head as he walked toward his apartment door. Unlocking it, he stepped inside, then turned back.

“You coming or what?”

Following the drunk man into the room, Takayuki sat down in his usual corner. Kunihiro was moving around the room, almost as if he were dancing, though in reality, he was in the middle of undressing. To Takayuki, it looked more like a clumsy dance. Wearing only his underwear, Kunihiro suddenly collapsed onto the bed and went still. Alarmed, Takayuki grabbed Kunihiro’s jeans from the floor and fished out his phone.

"Call my dad and tell him I’m staying over tonight," Takayuki said.

Kunihiro mumbled incoherently, "Mm, yeah… uh-huh..."

Before Kunihiro could lose consciousness entirely, Takayuki took the liberty of dialing his father’s number himself. As soon as he heard the line connect, he held the phone up to Kunihiro’s ear.

“Who is this? Who the hell are you?” Kunihiro grumbled, even though he was the one who had called.

“Oh, Keisuke? Why am I on the phone again?” Kunihiro mumbled, clearly confused. Frustrated, Takayuki shook him, trying to snap him out of it. Kunihiro waved him off lazily.

“The background noise is annoying... too much chatter... Oh, the kid’s here. Yeah, I told him to go home, but he came anyway. Doesn’t bother me. He’s no trouble... Yeah... Uh-huh…” As Kunihiro spoke, the phone slipped from his hand, falling to the floor as his arm dangled over the side of the bed. Takayuki retrieved it, turned it off, and placed it carefully on the small shelf by the bed, afraid he might step on it. When he looked back at Kunihiro, he was startled to find his eyes open, staring right at him. Without warning, Kunihiro’s hand reached out, grabbing Takayuki’s arm and pulling him onto the bed.

Takayuki had stayed over at Kunihiro’s place countless times before, but this was the first time they were in the same bed. Kunihiro wrapped his arms tightly around him, holding him close. It had been a long time since Takayuki had been held like this—so tightly. The last time had been years ago, after his mother died, when his father came to take him back from his grandparents. His father had hugged him just as fiercely back then. Now, here he was, enveloped in Kunihiro’s warmth, the closeness of another person pressing in on him. The scent of Kunihiro, the pressure of his embrace, made it hard to breathe.

Takayuki exhaled softly and returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around Kunihiro’s broad back. He wondered if Kunihiro understood how he felt.

Then, without warning, Kunihiro’s hand slid down and touched Takayuki’s genitals through his clothes. Takayuki froze in shock. The hand moved quickly inside his pants, and he felt fingers roughly grabbing him. The sensation was overwhelming—unpleasant, painful.

“Kunihiro-san, stop. I don’t like this,” Takayuki whispered, his voice trembling.

But Kunihiro didn’t listen. No matter how much Takayuki tried to push him away, Kunihiro’s fingers clung to him, refusing to let go. He struggled as his pants were pulled down, exposing him. Panic surged through him as Kunihiro’s warm, clammy hands roamed over his skin. This touch—this feeling—was wrong. The word “sex” flashed in his mind. Is this what that is? Sex was something that men and women did. Men didn’t do it with other men, or at least not often. But Dad did it. Dad did it with Seiichi.

Takayuki pushed Kunihiro away with all his strength. For a moment, he created some distance, but Kunihiro quickly closed the gap again, faster and more forceful this time. It was a losing battle. Kunihiro, irritated, clicked his tongue and roughly flipped Takayuki onto his stomach. He pinned Takayuki down with his weight, making it impossible to move. Kunihiro’s heavy breathing filled the room, hot and harsh, as he settled between Takayuki’s legs, keeping them apart. Something warm and slick pressed against Takayuki’s butt—something that made his heart race with fear.

“No! Stop! I don’t want this!” Takayuki shouted as the hard, slick thing pushed against him. He felt himself being forced open, and the sensation sent chills down his spine. He knew what it was like to open up from the inside, but being forced open from the outside was something entirely different.

Suddenly, his body jolted, and a sharp, unbearable pain shot up his spine.

“Aaahhh!” Takayuki screamed. The pain was overwhelming, his fingers trembling with the intensity of it. It worsened with every movement Kunihiro made. In his ear, Kunihiro’s harsh, animal-like breathing sounded, so much like a dog. Kunihiro gripped his genitals roughly, pulling so hard it felt like they might tear off. Everything hurt. All Takayuki could do was cry. He sobbed loudly, unsure why this was happening to him. Someone had once said that men having sex with each other was disgusting. Maybe he agreed—maybe this was disgusting. He had seen men having sex before. His father and Seiichi. They did it anywhere, assuming Takayuki wouldn’t notice, assuming he was asleep. He had covered his ears against their lewd sounds so many times.

As Takayuki cried and writhed in pain, the pressure inside him suddenly eased. Kunihiro pulled out, but the aching pain lingered, causing the tears to keep flowing. When Kunihiro turned him onto his back and climbed on top of him again, Takayuki’s body continued to tremble uncontrollably.

“No… stop…”

It took him a moment to realize that the wetness on his lips was a kiss. It wasn’t the kind of chaste kiss he’d imagined, just lips touching. This one was messy, with a slick tongue sliding against his own, raw and invasive. The moment his lips were free, Takayuki bit down on Kunihiro’s shoulder. Kunihiro grimaced and pushed Takayuki’s head roughly, then came at him with another sloppy kiss.

“Be a good boy. Don’t struggle,” Kunihiro whispered in his ear. “I love you.”

Takayuki’s eyes went wide. He tried to see Kunihiro’s face, but they were too close for him to make out his expression. And then, the pain returned—sharp and searing in his butt. His whole body shook with each thrust. His head spun, and his consciousness began to fade, everything disappearing into a swirling white void.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

He had been sleeping alone since just before starting elementary school, so it felt strange to be in bed with someone else. Kunihiro was still asleep. When he pressed his body close to Kunihiro's unmoving body lying face down, he was surprised at how warm it felt. As he rubbed his nose against Kunihiro, he caught the faint scent of the cigarettes that Kunihiro smoked.

Even if he stayed still, a dull ache throbbed in his lower back. He couldn't help but wonder why his father always did something that hurt so much. Maybe enduring pain was what love was all about. You endure the pain, and in exchange, you get love. You receive that warm, comforting love.

Kunihiro let out a small groan and turned over in his sleep. He looked uncomfortable, shrugging his shoulders and scratching his head as he opened his eyes slightly. Takayuki stared at his odd expression.

"Why are you here?" Kunihiro asked as he slowly sat up.

"Why are you... naked...?" Kunihiro trailed off. The bedsheet slipped to the floor, exposing their lower bodies. The sheet was stained with blood and semen. Kunihiro stared at it in silence, his face growing paler by the second. Soon, he began to tremble violently.

"I—I’m dead. Keisuke-san is going to kill me," Kunihiro said, his voice on the verge of tears.

"I can never face him again."

And then, Kunihiro actually started crying. Takayuki didn't understand why he was crying, and he felt a surge of anger at the fact that Kunihiro seemed more worried about his father than about him.

"Do we have to tell my dad that we had sex?"

Kunihiro looked up at him, startled.

"It’s about me, not my dad. He’s got nothing to do with this," Takayuki said.

Kunihiro stared at him with a confused expression.

"Yesterday, you said you loved me," Takayuki said quietly.

That was the answer to everything. It was the beginning of it all. Because Kunihiro said, "I love you," Takayuki could understand what happened between them.

"You said you loved me."

Takayuki had always wanted to be someone’s number one. Kunihiro had given him that, and that was all he had thought about. His own feelings had faded into the background because all he wanted was to feel needed by someone.

...Even if that someone could be anyone.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

For the past year, he’d been asking himself over and over how things had ended up like this. He knew that his inability to make any progress was solely due to his own indecision. He could have stopped at any time if he’d really wanted to. But when Takayuki asked to stay the night, he knew he'd let him in, and he wasn’t sure he could trust himself to keep things from going further. He couldn't deny that part of him wanted it to happen. There was no point in pretending otherwise anymore.

On his way home from work, he hunched his shoulders against the cold November wind. When he looked up, he saw the light was on in his apartment. Takayuki was there. Only that kid had a spare key to the place.

The moment he opened the door, a wave of brightness welcomed him, but the room was filled with an odd silence and a chill. Peeking into the living room, he found Takayuki still in his school uniform, curled up under the bed, fast asleep. After turning on the heater, he sat down next to the sleeping boy and lit a cigarette. Today had been rough—he’d had trouble with a customer and spent the whole day feeling irritated. He’d thought about going out for drinks instead of coming home, but the possibility that Takayuki might show up had stopped him.

Gently, he brushed his fingers through the kid’s hair, and Takayuki’s eyelids, which had been firmly shut, slowly fluttered open.

“Welcome home,” Takayuki said softly.

Instead of replying, he kissed him. Takayuki closed his eyes and parted his lips. He kissed him with a hunger that almost ignited something between them but then pulled back just before it did. He caressed Takayuki’s enraptured expression with his fingertips. Over the past year, the boy had grown a lot. He was taller, yes, but more than that, his expressions had changed. Sometimes he’d catch a glimpse of a surprisingly mature side of him, and it left Kunihiro feeling uneasy.

“If you’re staying over, call your dad yourself,” he said, handing Takayuki his phone.

Takayuki's gaze pleaded for him to make the call himself, but Kunihiro turned away, lighting a second cigarette. Takayuki reluctantly dialed the number and spoke in a sluggish, disinterested tone, ending the call with a dismissive “See you.”

“He said it’s fine,” Takayuki reported.

“Did he really say that?” Kunihiro asked.

Takayuki lowered his head in silence, and before long, the phone rang again. With a grimace, Takayuki turned his back, and Kunihiro answered the call with a quiet sigh.

“Kunihiro-kun, Takayuki’s at your place again, isn’t he? I’m sorry,” came the apologetic voice of Takayuki’s father, Keisuke Himi. It was always like this.

“It’s no problem for me,” Kunihiro replied.

“I’ll come pick him up,” Keisuke said, which was unusual. Normally, he’d just say, “Thanks, I’ll leave it to you,” knowing that even if he brought Takayuki home, the boy would likely run off to Kunihiro’s place again. But if he was coming over, that meant they wouldn’t be able to do anything tonight, and that was something Kunihiro didn’t want.

“He’s in a bad mood today, so he can stay here for the night,” Kunihiro offered.

“But…”

“I have an early shift tomorrow. I’ll drop him off at home on my way to work.”

Keisuke hesitated for a moment, unusually reluctant. Kunihiro stayed silent, watching to see what he’d say, not wanting Takayuki to leave.

“…Alright, then. Sorry to bother you, and thank you,” Keisuke finally conceded, his tone softening before he ended the call.

As if he’d been waiting for that moment, Takayuki asked, “What did dad say?”

“He said you can stay the night,” Kunihiro replied.

Takayuki let out a relieved sigh, then pursed his lips. “Dad doesn’t like me staying over at your place,” he muttered.

Kunihiro wondered if it was because his father didn’t want to be a burden. That thought seemed strange now, considering everything that had already happened. He tilted his head slightly as he noticed Takayuki was still in his school uniform.

“Are you studying properly?” Kunihiro asked.

Takayuki looked at him as if he’d been struck by lightning.

“You’ve got exams this year. Keisuke-san’s probably worried you’re slacking off when you’re over here,” Kunihiro said.

“No, that’s not it,” Takayuki responded, shaking his head slightly. “Dad’s figured out that I like you.”

The unexpected reply sent a cold shiver through Kunihiro’s chest.

“H-how…?”

“He saw the hickey you gave me and asked what it was. I brushed it off with some excuse,” Takayuki said calmly.

The idea that Keisuke might know made Kunihiro tremble, but Takayuki seemed utterly unfazed. He looked up at Kunihiro’s face with a puzzled expression, as if wondering why he was so affected.

"I don't mind if my dad finds out. If he disapproves, I'll just leave home and live here."

To calm himself, Kunihiro took a drag from his cigarette. Keisuke was, to put it bluntly, the one person he could proudly call a "friend," and losing that was something he absolutely couldn't bear. Lovers come and go in a flash, but friendship lasts much longer. Kunihiro was becoming more convinced of that because of Keisuke. And then there was Keisuke’s son—precious, irreplaceable. Making a move on him had been the first mistake, and not correcting it was the second. Their relationship had continued for a year now, far beyond any point where excuses could be made.

Kunihiro continued to smoke in silence when Takayuki sat down in front of him. Timing it just right, Takayuki leaned in as Kunihiro stubbed out the shortened cigarette in the ashtray. Their lips met. A deep kiss that swallowed all of Kunihiro's hesitation. The boy kept repeating, "It's okay," but Kunihiro knew all too well that it was anything but okay.

Wanting to forget the uncertainty in his heart, Kunihiro pulled the slender body close. He tugged the shirt out of the boy's pants, baring his chest, and gently took in the immature red nipples. He massaged the boy's hips firmly, and just as he was about to pull down the pants, Takayuki suddenly stopped him, sounding flustered, "Wait a second." What followed was a silly whisper in Kunihiro's ear: "I'm hungry."

"Can't it wait till later?"

Takayuki's face turned red as he looked down.

"...I don't like getting up from bed after."

As obedient as he was, this was the one thing Takayuki wouldn't compromise on. He loved nothing more than snuggling up to someone and sleeping right after sex, and he hated any situation that required getting out of bed. Kunihiro let go of Takayuki, sighed lightly, and got to his feet.

"Fried rice is good enough for you?"

Takayuki answered with a nod, then diligently buttoned his shirt back up. Watching this with a mix of amusement and exasperation, Kunihiro began chopping onions and poured some mixed vegetables into the frying pan. He heard a clatter next to him and glanced over to see Takayuki taking plates out of the cupboard.

"Want me to beat the eggs if you're going to use them?"

"Yeah."

With practiced movements, Takayuki cracked the eggs into a bowl and whisked them. He was probably just as helpful around the house with his dad. Aside from sleeping with a man, he was a basically well-behaved kid. Even if the fried rice turned out terrible, he wouldn’t complain. He’d stay at the table until Kunihiro finished eating, and when Kunihiro put his chopsticks down, Takayuki would quietly murmur, "Thank you for the meal," and then gather the dirty dishes to take them to the sink. After washing up, he’d head to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Kunihiro couldn't help but chuckle at this whole "good kid" routine. He was probably like this at school and at home too. When everything was done, Takayuki sat cross-legged in front of Kunihiro with a slightly troubled look on his face. So, Kunihiro decided to tease him.

"What, done with all your chores?"

Perhaps not getting the joke, Takayuki answered with a completely serious face, "Yeah."

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The boy had a scent of youth—something fresh, something raw. What was it again? Ah, yes, someone had said it on TV: young people have a "green" smell. He could see how that was true. And yet, children don’t notice it in each other. They’re all wrapped up in that same greenness, unable to detect the scent on themselves. Kunihiro held onto that body of his, which radiated a sharp citrus-like smell rather than just greenness, hugging him tightly, almost to the point of breaking.

"Kunihiro..."

Takayuki's voice was soft and clingy. His thin arms looped around Kunihiro's neck, pressing his hips close. Kunihiro let out a deep sigh, still buried deep inside Takayuki. He licked his small, bead-like nipple and teased his not-yet-mature penis. As a result, that part tightened intensely, subjecting Kunihiro to a kind of agonizing torment he had inflicted upon himself. Soon, he could no longer endure, reaching his climax alone. Takayuki’s soft lips sought a kiss, and in an unspoken apology for finishing first, Kunihiro gently grasped Takayuki’s penis, which had not yet reached release. After Takayuki spilled onto Kunihiro's stomach, he took a deep breath and let out a small laugh.

He didn't particularly like how clingy Takayuki got afterward, but Takayuki always wanted to stay close, like he preferred this closeness even more than the act itself. The way he resisted letting go felt so stubborn, almost desperate. Even now, as Kunihiro tried to get up to grab a cigarette, Takayuki reached out and tugged his arm, his eyes accusing, as if to ask, "Where do you think you’re going?"

"Let me at least get my cigarette," Kunihiro said.

At that, Takayuki reluctantly let go, his expression one of quiet resignation. Kunihiro fetched his cigarette, lighter, and ashtray, bringing them back to bed. As soon as he lit up, Takayuki—who usually clung to him—stared at the familiar trail of white smoke, his eyes fixed on it.

"You want a puff?"

Normally, Takayuki hated the smell of smoke, always making a face whenever Kunihiro lit up. Knowing that, Kunihiro asked the question on purpose, a teasing edge to his voice. He expected Takayuki to shake his head, but to his surprise, Takayuki nodded seriously, his expression serious. Caught off guard, Kunihiro couldn't exactly say no now that he had offered. So, he pressed the cigarette to Takayuki’s lips.  Takayuki took it between his lips and inhaled the smoke. After a small cough, he exhaled with an oddly mature gesture. He actually looked quite natural doing it, but almost immediately, he handed the cigarette back.

"Yeah, it's pretty bad."

"It's a taste that kids wouldn't understand," replied Kunihiro, drawing in a breath of smoke. The first time he smoked was back in high school, but he didn't retain a single fragment of memory from that moment. That was only natural—he hadn't felt even a shred of guilt about it, and no matter how often people told him not to smoke, the smoke-filled teacher's lounge never seemed to hold any credibility.

"There's a guy in my class who smokes," he said.

The boy perched on his chest, looking displeased as Kunihiro blew smoke toward his face, puckering his lips in distaste. Kunihiro chuckled and stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray.

"Is he a delinquent?"

Takayuki tilted his head, puzzled.

"Not really. He's pretty ordinary. I was surprised, though, since he's the kind of guy who doesn't stand out much in class, but he was smoking openly behind the school building." He added, "We don't really have delinquents at our school."

"Really? But you’re a delinquent, aren’t you?" Kunihiro teased.

Takayuki made a confused face.

"You're doing this kind of thing, aren’t you?" Kunihiro said, pulling him closer and tracing his tongue along the nape of Takayuki's neck, making his body squirm as if tickled.

"This isn't a bad thing," the boy muttered softly.

"There's nothing wrong with loving each other," he whispered seriously as they locked eyes.

"There's nothing wrong with being in love," he repeated, his voice resolute.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

It's not wrong to like someone. It's not wrong to love each other, either. Kunihiro gazed at the boy’s sleeping face. He pulled back the sheets, revealing the entirety of the body beneath. Pale-skinned and slender, much like Keisuke, with a body that seemed to be caught somewhere between adolescence and adulthood. That ambiguous frame trembled slightly, intensely arousing his desire. This boy might be unsociable, but his face was fairly cute, and his body was a perfect match for his. But that's all it was.

As long as he could get aroused, he could have sex with a man. But romance wasn’t supposed to be like that. It wasn't just about the overwhelming urge, then feeling relieved and calling it done; it was supposed to be something that kept your emotions trembling forever. In that sense, he had never had a proper romantic experience. The only man he ever wanted for something more than just sex was Keisuke. Even though Keisuke was kind to him, Keisuke never truly saw him— Keisuke only had eyes for the lover he lived with.

A little while ago, at his regular bar, he carelessly let slip, "I'm seeing a middle student." The guy who overheard scolded him, saying, "That's a crime, isn't it?" But then let his real feelings slip, admitting, "I'm jealous," and even asked for advice on how to make it happen. Young bodies are attractive, and on top of that, he is Keisuke’s son. The child of the only man Kunihiro ever wanted.

Kunihiro is sleeping with Takayuki because he’s the son of the man he loves. He cares for Takayuki. He’s gentle with him. Keisuke is a fairly tolerant guy, so if he were to seriously confess that he loves Takayuki, Keisuke might actually forgive their relationship. But that's exactly what scares him, because he knows that’s not the truth. If this kind of relationship were ever found out, Keisuke would never forgive him again.

Why doesn’t Takayuki realize this? Even when Takayuki says “I love you” with that serious face, he’s just using those words as a shield, clinging to the adult who indulges him. All he ever wanted was a place to escape from home and someone who would listen to him and sleep by his side. He just happened to find that in someone like Kunihiro, who offered that environment, so he got close.

Maybe, at first, all Takayuki really wanted was just someone to sleep beside. But everything went off track the day Kunihiro drunkenly made his move. Even though sex is something that can happen anytime, anywhere, with anyone, the boy turned it into something sacred. He thinks they slept together because there was love. He believes those empty words, "I love you," like a mantra. And now, because Kunihiro said, "I love you," Takayuki is earnestly trying to love him back, as if he’s obligated to.

Even when they keep having this long, drawn-out sex, there's still something untouched, almost pure, about Takayuki. He can't admit that he was seduced on a whim, so he clings to some lofty reason, getting himself deeper into a mess he doesn't understand. He can't see himself clearly, nor can he see the person in front of him. All that's left are the facts, the acts, and the circumstances.

When will Takayuki open his eyes? When will he realize that this isn’t even a real relationship? If he ever finds someone he truly loves, will he regret these moments of solace shared with another man? Will he think of his time with Kunihiro as just a “bad dream”? Before that day comes, he knows he has to end this relationship. If he were honest and told him, “This isn’t love; you’re just lonely”...

"It’s unbearable, isn’t it?"

He used to think that not knowing what the future held was fine. That was enough when he was younger. But now that he’s over thirty, he’s come to feel a loneliness he never imagined in his twenties. He’s not as popular as he used to be. There was a time when people would flock to him, but now he finds himself more and more alone. Next to the kind of loneliness that doesn’t offer any choice, even a fake “I love you” spoken by the warm body at his side doesn’t seem so bad.

But if by some chance, one of their feelings were to change, if they were to turn this into something real and move forward, that too would be exhausting. Along with it would come countless other complications.

"Kunihiro..."

The sleeping boy woke up. He rubbed his eyelids with the back of his hand, trembling slightly. Then, with a lazy gesture, he reached out both arms toward him. Knowing that it wouldn’t solve anything, Kunihiro buried his face in the chest that smelled sweet and sour.

"I don’t want to think about anything."

"...Okay," came the half-asleep reply.

"It's such a pain, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

Even with someone by your side, loneliness doesn’t disappear. And surely, the end will come one day. But for now, lying next to this warm body, that end still felt distant and not entirely real, like something hazy and far off in the future.

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