"Goodbye," you waved your hand: Chapter 3 - part 2

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The rain had been falling even before they left for the business trip. Hatoya, his boss, had optimistically remarked, "The ground solidifies after the rain," but there was hardly any chance for the ground to firm up as the rain kept pouring endlessly, leaving Takayuki Himi and Hatoya stranded on their return train. The train, which had stopped outside of a station about twenty minutes ago, was now filled with the murmurs of restless passengers. A voice over the speakers had announced a landslide about a hundred meters ahead, promising further updates that never came.

“A landslide isn’t something you can clear up in just an hour or two. They should just turn the train back to the nearest station. We’ve got less than forty minutes until the last bullet train departs,” Hatoya muttered, glancing at his wristwatch and clicking his tongue in frustration. Takayuki, on the other hand, had been accompanying Hatoya to a dyeing factory in a coastal town. Hatoya had insisted on this factory for dyeing the new jeans they were planning to launch, despite the factory’s conservative reluctance to take on the project, citing its lack of precedent. This trip had been about proving their passion for the project.

Though Takayuki was a new hire and wasn’t much help in negotiations, he came along to assist Hatoya with the PowerPoint presentation and hand out materials. In the end, the factory was swayed by their effort, finally agreeing to take on the job. It was a great success, but because it was still at the planning stage, the company would only cover the travel expenses for a same-day round trip. Now, with the landslide delaying their train, their chances of making it back in time were dwindling.

“Hey, Himi. You listening?” Hatoya’s voice snapped Takayuki out of his daze as he watched the rain beating against the window. He turned back hastily.

“Oh, sorry.”

Hatoya had told him that winning over the dyeing factory was the key to this project, so Takayuki had been on edge, determined not to mess up. But as soon as the factory agreed, the tension left his body all at once.

“The train’s still not moving, and it doesn’t look like we’ll make the bullet train. Let’s get as far as we can tonight, then find a business hotel to stay at.”

“Yes, it’s a good thing tomorrow is Saturday,” Takayuki replied.

Hatoya sighed deeply. “You’re not kidding.” After about ten more minutes, the train finally reversed back to the previous station. From there, they took a free bus to S City, where the bullet train terminal was, but the last train had already departed.

Across the street from the station, there were a few business hotels, and Hatoya booked a room at the closest one. It was an old-fashioned place with a rococo-style logo, a relic of a different era, but that meant it was cheap. It was already past ten, and Takayuki thought they’d simply head to bed, but Hatoya had other plans. “It’s a day off tomorrow, anyway. Let’s go for drinks.”

Takayuki would have preferred to rest, but he accepted that keeping his boss company was part of the job. Hatoya, ever sociable, casually asked a taxi driver to take them to the best izakaya in the area.

They ended up at a back-alley establishment that looked dubious but served unexpectedly delicious food. Hatoya launched into a long-winded tale of how hard it had been to convince their department head about the factory project. He was a talkative man by nature, but with alcohol, he became even more talkative. The conversation wound through various detours, eventually landing on the subject of his girlfriend, until Hatoya, exasperated, buried his face into the table, groaning, “She keeps pushing me about marriage, it’s too much!”

Takayuki had been out drinking with him a few times before, but he’d never seen his boss this far gone. Perhaps, with the project going well, Hatoya had finally let his guard down.

Takayuki had discovered after he started drinking that he was a bottomless pit—no matter how much he drank, he never seemed to get tipsy. As a result, he often ended up taking care of others at these gatherings.

The rain had let up slightly, but a persistent drizzle remained as Takayuki half-dragged, half-pushed his inebriated boss into a taxi. It wasn’t easy to hold someone up and manage an umbrella, so he ended up soaked from head to toe as he helped Hatoya along. True to the season’s reputation, the rain kept falling without pause. After telling the driver the name of their hotel, Takayuki leaned back into the seat, letting out a long breath. The wipers swished back and forth, sweeping away the rain, creating an illusion as if they were deep underwater for a moment.

Taking out his smartphone, he checked his messages. He knew there was one from his father, Keisuke Himi, but he had left it unread for a while.

"How's work? Are you hanging in there? If you have some time, come visit us at home."

Every Friday, the same message would arrive from his father, with almost no variation. If this was just a formal duty from parent to child, he wished his father would give it up already. It irritated him.

Since he moved into a dormitory for high school when he was fifteen, he hadn’t returned home even once. He had seen his father only a handful of times since then. He still hadn’t forgiven him for what happened seven years ago.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The day after his middle school graduation ceremony, it was slightly overcast and chilly. Takayuki wore his duffle coat as he pedaled his bicycle. He parked in front of Kunihiro's apartment, a place he had visited countless times, and clattered up the iron stairs with rhythmic steps. The front door was slightly ajar. Knowing Hiroki’s carelessness, Takayuki assumed he hadn’t bothered to lock it properly, or even close it all the way, and without a second thought, he pushed the door wide open without knocking.

“Kunihiro-san, are you here?”

No response. Takayuki knew from checking the work schedule that Kunihiro had the day off, so he couldn’t be at work. Maybe he’s out, Takayuki thought, tilting his head as he stepped inside. But something felt off. The entranceway was unusually empty—not only were there no shoes, but the small shoe cabinet that had always been there by the wall was gone too. Did he throw it away?

Puzzled, he stepped into the hallway and peeked into the kitchen. “Huh?” he murmured softly. It was completely empty. The gray refrigerator, the toaster oven that sat on top of it, even the scorched kettle—all gone. He rushed into the room at the back, but it too was barren. Without curtains, sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting harsh lines across the tatami floor, where only patches of a different shade hinted at where furniture used to be. He panicked, thinking he must have entered the wrong room, and spun around to leave when a voice called out from the entrance.

“Is someone there?”

Through the gap in the door, he saw an elderly man peering inside—it was the apartment’s landlord.

“S-sorry!” Takayuki hurried out of the room.

“Oh, it’s you, Takayuki. I wondered who it might be,” the landlord said as he locked the door behind them. Takayuki knew him well, having spent much of his childhood hanging around Kunihiro’s place.

Takayuki double-checked the room number, thinking he might have made a mistake, but it was correct.

“Um, this is Kunihiro-san’s place, right?” he asked.

The landlord frowned in confusion. “You didn’t know, Takayuki? Kunihiro-san moved out yesterday.”

“He moved? Where to?”

“No idea, he didn’t say.”

Still trying to make sense of it, Takayuki returned to his own apartment. If Kunihiro had told him, he would have helped him move. Moving away secretly like this—it left a bad taste in his mouth. Whatever reasons Kunihiro might have had, it seemed he didn’t think they were worth sharing with a kid like Takayuki.

Entering the living room in a foul mood, he found his father there, despite it being midday.

“Night shift today?” he asked.

His father nodded slightly. He worked at a hotel and had night shifts a few times a month. As Takayuki headed toward his room, he asked almost absentmindedly, his back turned to his father.

“Did you know Kunihiro-san moved? Dad, do you know where he went?”

His father's head barely moved before he slowly turned around.

“Yes, I knew.”

“Then, tell me where he moved to.”

His father put down the newspaper he had been reading and said, “Takayuki, come sit here.”

A bad feeling crept up on him. His father’s quiet tone was always a prelude to a lecture. He wanted to ignore him, but his desire to know where Kunihiro had gone won out, and he reluctantly sat down on the sofa across from his father.

“Kunihiro left the hotel yesterday as well. I heard it from the manager this morning.”

“What?” Takayuki blurted out, unable to keep his surprise in check.

“I don’t know where he moved to. He didn’t tell anyone. His phone doesn’t connect either.”

Kunihiro had worked the front desk at the same business hotel as his father. Now, he had left both the job and his apartment. The realization struck Takayuki like a cold wave—if he didn’t know where Kunihiro had gone and couldn’t contact him, then they might never meet again. His fingertips went cold.

“No way. Why? Why would he do that?”

“The manager said he was going back to his hometown,” his father replied.

“Where is Kunihiro-san’s hometown?”

“I... don’t know,” his father said.

Takayuki tried to dig through his memories. Kunihiro had mentioned once that it was near the sea. He had talked about swimming there during the summer and getting sunburned so badly that his skin peeled. But that was all—he had never mentioned a specific place. Takayuki’s body began to tremble. He couldn’t see him. He couldn’t see Kunihiro whenever he wanted to. He couldn’t hold him, couldn’t kiss him, and the thought of it made him shudder.

This makes no sense. He clenched his hands tightly in his lap, struggling to understand why Kunihiro would disappear without a word. It was then that he noticed his father’s strange expression. He was watching Takayuki with an oddly pained look, as if he had anticipated this all along, filled with a sense of resigned pity.

“Dad, did you say something to Kunihiro-san?” Takayuki’s voice trembled. His father remained silent, and that silence confirmed it.

“You did say something to him, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t.”

“Liar!” Takayuki shouted, grabbing his father by the collar with both hands, shaking him roughly. “You told Kunihiro-san to leave, didn’t you? That’s why he’s gone!”

Back in his second year of middle school, Takayuki had slept with Kunihiro for the first time. By the latter half of his third year, his father had started to get uneasy about Takayuki staying over at Kunihiro’s apartment. He must have realized what was happening between them. But he never directly asked, “Are you sleeping with Kunihiro?”—he couldn’t. After all, his own lover was a man, and they were always sleeping together.

“Calm down,” his father said, grabbing Takayuki by the shoulders and forcing him to sit down next to him.

“About a week ago, I spoke with Kunihiro-kun,” his father continued.

Takayuki bit down hard, glaring at him.

“I asked him what he planned to do with you in the future.”

Takayuki’s mind flared with a burning heat.

“What the hell! You’re with Seiichi, but you think I can’t be with a guy?”

“I never said that.”

“But you made Kunihiro-san out to be the bad guy! You told him to stay away from me, to go somewhere, didn’t you?!”

“I didn’t say that!” His father’s voice was loud enough to startle even himself.

“All I asked was what he intended to do. And... Kunihiro-kun didn’t answer.”

“That’s the same thing! It’s because you said something like that that Kunihiro-san left! He probably thought you were blaming him, and that’s why he disappeared. That’s so cruel!”

Takayuki broke down, collapsing in tears right there.

“Give him back, give him back, give him back... give me back my Kunihiro-san!”

The only place where he felt safe, where he could run to, where he was loved—was gone. From that day, Takayuki locked himself in his room, harboring an intense, unwavering resentment toward his father who had taken his lover away. Kunihiro had always been a bit careless, but he had a serious side. He must have felt accused by Keisuke and couldn't endure it, so he left. Maybe his father had said something even harsher. Maybe he had accused Kunihiro of preying on a child.

Three days after locking himself in, Takayuki emptied his savings and ran away from home. He took the train to the nearest coastal town, where he slept in a corner of a park and wandered aimlessly. Eventually, his money ran out, and he grew hungry. He thought, if he would never see Kunihiro again, he might as well die out of spite—until he was found and taken into custody. It was the third night since he had run away.

His father and Seiichi were the ones who came to pick him up from the police station. His father looked utterly exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes, as if he might collapse at any moment. Seeing him like that, Takayuki felt a fleeting sense of guilt, but he didn’t apologize. His father merely said, “I was worried,” without scolding him. During the car ride home, his father murmured, “I tried looking for Kunihiro-kun, but I couldn’t find him.”

When the short spring break ended, Takayuki began his life in the high school dorms as planned. He never went back home during summer or New Year’s. Once he saved up enough from his part-time jobs, he would travel to the coastal town further away, wandering around in search of Kunihiro. But every time, he ended up in tears, overwhelmed by despair.

When he entered university, he gradually stopped going to the coastal town. He realized that the search only deepened his sense of hopelessness. The love he thought would only come once in a lifetime had been cruelly torn from him when he was fifteen. Even as Kunihiro’s memory began to fade, the remnants of it continued to sting, burning the scars left on his heart, relentlessly, without end.

Takayuki supported his sleeping boss as they got out of the taxi. He laid the drunken man on a bench in the hotel entrance before heading to the front desk. Since this old-fashioned hotel required guests to leave their keys, he needed to retrieve them. The front desk area was dimly lit and empty, with a small sign on the counter that read, "Please ring the bell if you need assistance," accompanied by a silver bell. When he pressed it, he could faintly hear the buzz of a doorbell from somewhere in the back.

Before long, a man in his forties appeared, walking out with a slight slouch.

“I’d like the key, please. Room 506, Hatoya.”

The employee, stifling a small yawn, retrieved a key with a long keychain from the shelf behind him and placed it on the counter.

“Wait, are you... Himi-san?”

Takayuki’s name being called out so suddenly caught him off guard. He turned toward the man, wondering what this was about, and was shocked to find a faintly familiar face. The man stared intently at Takayuki, then broke into a warm smile.

“I thought you looked a lot like someone I knew... My apologies. Here’s your key,” the man said as he offered the key. Takayuki hesitated, not taking it, and the man gave him a puzzled look.

“Hatoya-san?”

“...Kunihiro-san,” Takayuki murmured.

The man’s eyes widened, and he gaped in surprise. After a few rapid blinks, he asked hesitantly, “Are you... Takayuki?”

“Yes.”

Immediately, Kunihiro’s face broke into a wide smile. “Hey, I didn’t recognize you at all—you’ve changed so much! But, yeah, you really do look like Himi-san’s kid. The resemblance is uncanny.”

Kunihiro himself had changed. He seemed shorter than Takayuki remembered, and the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes had deepened.

“At first, I thought you were Himi-san, and it gave me a scare. But then I realized that he must be over fifty by now—no way he’d look this young,” Kunihiro continued, talking on while Takayuki remained stunned.

“How’s Himi-san doing? Still getting along with Seiichi?” Kunihiro asked casually.

“Oh, uh, probably...” Takayuki replied uncertainly.

Kunihiro leaned on the counter, resting both elbows as he studied Takayuki closely. “The last time we met, you were fifteen, right? So, it’s been... six, no, seven years now. Time flies, doesn’t it? So, what brings you here today? Work?”

“I’m here on a business trip, but a landslide stopped the train. Because of that, I missed the last bullet train...” Takayuki explained.

“Oh, that. Yeah, a bunch of guests missed their train today because of that. Tough break for you, but it’s a bit of luck for the hotel—business has been slow, and sometimes we can’t fill up rooms even on weekends.”

A loud thud suddenly came from behind them. Takayuki turned to see that Hatoya, who he had left lying on the sofa, had rolled off and onto the floor. He rushed over to him. Hatoya lay sprawled out, snoring deeply, and didn’t wake even when Takayuki called his name.

“Wow, he’s really out cold. Is he with you?” Kunihiro had come up behind him from the front desk. When Takayuki nodded, Kunihiro leaned in close, whispering near his ear.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

Takayuki’s face flushed with anger, and he shouted, “He’s not!” Kunihiro stepped back, raising his hands slightly, his elbows still bent, with a surprised expression.

“Hey, no need to get mad. I was just wondering. No need to look so scary,” he said.

Ignoring Kunihiro, Takayuki took hold of Hatoya’s arm. But trying to move a limp, drunken adult proved to be difficult.

“I’ll give you a hand,” Kunihiro offered. He moved to Hatoya’s other side, supporting him by the shoulders and back. Together, they managed to lift the unresponsive man, each supporting him from either side. As they hauled the drunkard along and rode the elevator in silence, neither of them said a word.

Kunihiro helped Takayuki lay Hatoya down on one of the twin beds in the room.

“Whew, he’s heavy,” Kunihiro muttered, giving his stretched back a light tap.

“Well, I’ll be off. Take care,” he said with a casual wave of his right hand before quickly leaving the room. Takayuki stood still, watching his retreating figure until he was out of sight.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

When he was fifteen, the only place he could meet the man he had parted from was in his dreams. The reunion always took place in a seaside town where he had once gone searching for him. They would confirm their feelings for each other and then run away together. In some unknown town, they would live a vaguely happy life. He always wished the dream would end there, but it never did. It would continue, and they would be discovered by his father, torn apart again. He would be left to cry, overwhelmed by the sadness. Each time he had these dreams, so close to reality, his chest felt as though it would burst. And the one thing all of these dreams had in common was the certainty that Kunihiro felt the same. He, too, must have been suffering, torn apart and full of sorrow.

Seven years had passed since they were separated, and though the intense emotions that had once consumed him had softened, his longing for Kunihiro had not changed. He had accepted that they would likely never meet again, but still, he wished to see him one more time if he could. He had often imagined their chance reunion—on a train, perhaps, or in a shop they both happened to enter. In his mind, if they met, time would instantly rewind to when he was fifteen, and the part of his heart that had been left empty by Kunihiro’s absence would finally be filled. He would be whole again, and happy.

Takayuki sat on the chair by the window, having removed only his suit jacket. Through the glass, the light from the streetlamps blurred softly. Yes, a reunion had to come with a wave of emotion. They would share their joy through their gaze, without needing words, crying together over the lost years, and celebrating the miracle of their reunion. It should have been like that. When Kunihiro realized it was him, he should have been more shocked, more moved. He should have felt it. It wasn’t right for him to simply smile and say, "How nostalgic."

Since he had parted from Kunihiro, he had not dated anyone else. He knew no one but him. He couldn’t bring himself to love anyone, nor had he ever wanted to be intimate with anyone else. Every bit of his heart that was capable of love had been dedicated to the man who had been driven away by his father. That had been his way of remaining true to him.

And yet, Kunihiro had asked him if Hatoya was "his boyfriend." Despite all the years he had faithfully devoted his heart to him, even in his absence, Kunihiro had assumed he must have been with another man during their time apart. It would have been one thing if he had been jealous or angry, but his question had been laced with casual curiosity, as if it didn’t really matter to him.

His stomach churned, and he covered his mouth. He wasn’t actually going to be sick, but the nausea kept coming in waves. Before long, a dull pain began to throb at his temples. It wasn’t the alcohol; it was stress. He had felt the same way back when he was preparing for his university entrance exams. As soon as the tests were over, all the unpleasant physical symptoms had disappeared.

Takayuki pressed his fingers to his temple and let out a long, slow breath.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The dimly lit hallway felt cold and unwelcoming, with the front desk empty and silent. It was already past 1 a.m. Takayuki placed his hand on the bell at the front desk. No one came. Just as he hesitated about pressing it again, the door creaked open, and Kunihiro emerged from the back, still looking as sleepy as ever.

“Oh, it’s you again. What is it this time?”

“…My head hurts. Do you have any painkillers?”

Kunihiro approached with a concerned expression.

“I’ve got over-the-counter meds, but will that be enough? You don’t need to go to a hospital or anything?”

“It’s not that serious. I just can’t sleep because of the pain…”

Kunihiro sighed, muttering, “Wait here for a sec,” before disappearing into the back again. He returned holding a box of painkillers and pulled out a pill.

“Will this do?”

Takayuki stared at the tablet in his hand. Slowly, he lifted his eyes and met Kunihiro’s gaze from across the counter.

“You really are starting to look like Himi-san.”

It was the second time since their reunion that Kunihiro had said this.

“…Do you resent my father?”

Kunihiro chuckled.

“No way. I owe Himi-san a lot. He helped me out and put up with more than he should have. I just feel guilty about it all.”

He shrugged, eyes cast down. The wistful expression on his face reminded Takayuki of the man he had known seven years ago. Takayuki reached across the counter and tightly clasped Kunihiro’s right hand with both of his own.

“Takayuki?”

Kunihiro tilted his head slightly as Takayuki looked up.

“…I’ve missed you.”

His voice trembled.

“I’ve missed you so much, Kunihiro-san. I’ve wanted to see you again for so long.”

“I’m happy to see you too, but…”

Takayuki tightened his grip, feeling Kunihiro’s body subtly recoil.

“H-Hey…”

He pulled Kunihiro’s right hand to his forehead. He had always loved him, deeply, achingly. The feelings he had thought were fading surged back to life, bright and vivid. He had loved this man so much, wishing he would whisk him away, even steal him away from his father. Tears began to fall. He didn’t know what they meant—whether they were tears of joy or of regret.

“…Takayuki.”

Just like in the old days, Kunihiro ruffled his hair. No one else touched him that way, only Kunihiro. The realization that this really was Kunihiro brought a flood of emotions, and the tears wouldn’t stop. Consumed by everything he felt, Takayuki didn’t notice the automatic door behind him open or the presence of someone approaching. Kunihiro’s hand was suddenly pulled away, a bit roughly. Takayuki looked up in surprise. Kunihiro was smiling a polite, distant smile and saying, “Welcome back.”

“The key,” barked a middle-aged man in a suit, standing next to Takayuki. Kunihiro handed him the room key and bowed with a “Please enjoy your stay.” Once the man disappeared behind the elevator doors, Kunihiro let out a quiet sigh.

“Let’s talk somewhere else.”

He gestured for Takayuki to follow him behind the counter. They entered a cramped office, about five tatami mats in size. Unlike the tidy, compact atmosphere of the front desk, the office was cluttered with stacks of papers on the desk, a large schedule board covered with scrawled notes, and various items like irons and humidifiers crammed against the opposite wall. Takayuki was offered a chair, and he sat down. Kunihiro, without waiting for an answer, asked, “Coffee okay?” before leaving the office and returning with two paper cups.

“Here.”

The coffee he handed Takayuki was sweet, filled with sugar and milk. Though he usually drank his coffee black, Takayuki said nothing and took a sip. Kunihiro sat down next to him, absently staring at the schedule board while sipping from his own cup.

“So, do you have a girlfriend or anything?”

Annoyed by the intrusive question, Takayuki curtly replied, “No.”

“Maybe not now, but you must’ve had someone before, right? You’re tall, you look refined and handsome, just like Himi-san.”

“I said no.”

Kunihiro averted his gaze, looking somewhat troubled, and placed his cup on the desk. He lit a cigarette, taking a few drags. The familiar scent brought back a wave of nostalgia for the time Takayuki had spent in Kunihiro’s apartment.

“I was seeing someone until recently,” Kunihiro said.

The sudden confession felt like a blow to Takayuki’s chest. He clenched his fists tightly.

“We were together for about two years. It was a long relationship, but in the end, it didn’t work out. The guy before that—”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Takayuki interrupted sharply.

But Kunihiro, unbothered by the protest, continued talking anyway.

"In the seven years since we split up, I’ve been with about four guys. That’s how it is, so you should stop fixating on me and find someone good for yourself," Kunihiro said casually.

Takayuki couldn't comprehend it—the man who had remained celibate out of love versus the man who had gone from one partner to the next. Back when they were together, they had spent nearly every day side by side, sharing countless intimate moments. They had been torn apart, supposedly while still in love. So how could Kunihiro have gone on to date other men, as if he had forgotten all about him?

“What did my father say to you?” Takayuki asked.

Kunihiro, still holding a cigarette between his fingers, raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“My father must have said something to you. He scolded you for being with me, didn’t he? That’s why you suddenly disappeared, right?”

Kunihiro raised both hands in protest. “Whoa, slow down. Sure, I talked to Himi-san about us, but he never blamed me, not once.”

Takayuki’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re telling me my father didn’t say anything?”

He had asked before—asked his father—but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. Kunihiro stubbed out his cigarette and took a sip of coffee.

“Himi-san just asked me, ‘What do you plan to do with my son?’ I couldn’t give him an answer.”

“…That’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Then why did you leave without saying a word to me?”

Kunihiro lit another cigarette, glancing briefly at Takayuki. “I just got tired of it all.”

The blood drained from Takayuki’s face at those simple words.

“Himi-san knew about us and chose to look the other way. But I couldn’t shake the guilt of being involved with a middle school kid, so I figured it was a good time to end things.”

“What... what do you mean?” Takayuki grabbed Kunihiro by the collar.

“What the hell do you mean by that?” he demanded, shaking him violently.

Kunihiro sighed. “Look, I really am sorry about how it ended.”

“Sorry? Why are you apologizing? I don’t get it, I don’t understand!” Takayuki shouted, his hands still gripping Kunihiro’s shirt, trembling with emotion.

“Stop it, Takayuki! Let go!” Kunihiro yelled, causing Takayuki to freeze. In that moment of hesitation, Kunihiro pulled back, freeing himself from Takayuki’s grasp.

“Calm down, idiot.” Kunihiro took a deep breath, pressing his hand to his chest. He grabbed Takayuki’s shoulders and forcibly sat him down in a chair.

“Damn…,” Kunihiro muttered, looking down at him with a mixture of annoyance and pity.

“You’re not a kid anymore. You’ll be fine without me.”

A strange sound caught in Takayuki’s throat as his emotions surged.

“Stop being so stubborn. If you find someone you like, then date them—whether it’s a guy or a girl. Cry to them, lean on them for comfort. With a face like yours, you won’t have trouble finding someone.”

“Why are you saying this to me?” Takayuki pressed a hand to his chest, the ache inside intensifying.

“I’ve always only loved you. You were the only one for me…”

“It’s been seven years, Takayuki. Seven years. I never made you any promises, did I? I never said I’d wait for you. How could you think you could wait that long? Didn’t it ever cross your mind that I’d move on?”

Kunihiro’s calm, matter-of-fact words cut deep into Takayuki’s trembling heart.

“But… my father…”

“I told you, Himi-san only asked me what I planned to do. That’s it.”

A terrible sense of dread began to well up inside Takayuki. Something he had locked away deep within him was now threatening to be dragged out into the open. He couldn’t allow himself to think about it—he had to shut his mind off. If he let it out, it would be disastrous, something he could never take back.

“Stop holding onto me. You keep saying you loved me all this time, but that’s not entirely true.”

Kunihiro let out a small, bitter laugh.

“You were just lonely. You clung to me because you were lonely, and I made the mistake of giving in. I shouldn’t have crossed that line, but I did, and I didn’t know when to stop. But when Himi-san asked me, I figured it was time. You were about to enter high school—I thought you’d be fine by then.”

“What the hell do you mean, ‘fine’?!” Takayuki yelled.

“Fifteen isn’t a child anymore. Some people start working at that age.”

“…What are you saying?” Takayuki’s voice trembled.

Kunihiro frowned, scratching the back of his head.

“I’m saying that by the time you were old enough, you could find someone else to deal with your loneliness. I didn’t think I needed to be the one anymore.”

Takayuki’s lips quivered uncontrollably. The memories that had once sustained him were suddenly turning into something faded and dirty, losing all their warmth.

“...That’s so unfair.”

“Yeah, maybe it is,” Kunihiro replied casually. “In the end, I just didn’t want to take care of a kid or deal with the responsibility, so I ran away.”

Ash from his cigarette fell onto the table. With a click of his tongue, Kunihiro stubbed out the short cigarette in the ashtray on the table.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t live up to your expectations. But this is just the kind of man I am,” he said, without a trace of guilt.

A surge of heat rushed to Takayuki’s head. Without thinking, he grabbed the half-empty paper cup of coffee and threw it at Kunihiro.

“Whoa! Hot!”

A large brown stain spread across the white shirt at Kunihiro’s chest.

“You’ve got to be kidding me! I’m at work!” Kunihiro snapped, but his words barely registered with Takayuki. He started grabbing anything within reach on the desk and hurling it at Kunihiro. The man’s expression shifted.

“Hey! Stop it! Don’t trash my workplace!”

Kunihiro lunged at him, and in the scuffle, they lost their balance and tumbled to the floor, tangled together. A dull thud echoed through the room as Kunihiro smacked his head on the corner of the desk.

“Ugh, that hurt...” Kunihiro groaned, clutching his head. After a moment, he tried to get up, his back still turned to Takayuki. But Takayuki grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back, causing Kunihiro to turn and resist.

“What are you doing? Let go!” Kunihiro struggled, but Takayuki pinned him down, pressing his wrists to the floor. Kunihiro squirmed beneath him, but he was easy to overpower. His body felt small, his wrists thin. Once, when they were younger, Kunihiro’s body had been large, warm, dependable. It had made Takayuki feel safe. But now, Kunihiro had become someone small—so small that Takayuki could pin him down effortlessly.

“Get off me!” Kunihiro shouted, his voice high-pitched and shaky. Despite the force in his words, his lips trembled. Takayuki found himself wondering why Kunihiro was so scared, then realized—he was the one with the strength now.

“I said get off! Or what, you wanna have sex or something?”

Takayuki felt his own cheek twitch involuntarily.

“Don’t know if you wanna top or bottom, but if you’re gonna do it, just get it over with.”

In a flash of anger, Takayuki slapped Kunihiro across the face. The loud crack echoed in the room, and Kunihiro’s eyes went wide. His left cheek quickly turned red, and then, suddenly, his whole body began to tremble.

“D-Don’t hit me. I said you could do it, didn’t I?” Kunihiro stammered, his voice breaking.

Takayuki loosened his grip on Kunihiro’s wrists, and instead, his hands moved to Kunihiro’s slender neck. His fingers wrapped around it like a snake coiling. It would be so easy to squeeze.

Kunihiro’s lips parted slightly, revealing clenched teeth.

“...You’re gonna kill me, huh?”

Takayuki couldn’t respond. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore. His chest felt tight, suffocating with loneliness and sadness.

“Killing me won’t change anything,” Kunihiro muttered.

Takayuki had wanted to see him—he had longed to see Kunihiro again. But these weren’t the words he had hoped to hear. His heart overflowed with emotions he couldn’t explain, a heat inside him that made tears spill from his eyes. The tears fell, dripping down onto Kunihiro’s face.

“You’re so cruel,” Takayuki sobbed, his breath hitching painfully.

“Cruel, cruel, cruel,” he repeated, bringing his face close to Kunihiro’s and pressing his lips to his. Kunihiro’s lips were wet but cold. As Takayuki lay on top of him, crying like a child, he felt just how small Kunihiro was beneath him.

“Grow up a little… will you?” Kunihiro said softly, but the cruel words didn’t reach Takayuki.

He curled up on Kunihiro’s chest, which still smelled faintly of coffee, like a cat seeking warmth.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The next morning, though the rain had stopped, the sky remained a dull gray, heavy with the lingering aftermath of the storm. Hatoya was slow to wake, and Takayuki had to shake him awake thirty minutes before checkout. They went down to the front desk at five minutes to ten, only to find the counter crowded with people. Hatoya, suffering from a hangover, slumped onto a sofa in the lobby while Takayuki lined up to check out in his place. Among the staff processing payments, Kunihiro was nowhere to be seen. He must have gone home after his night shift.

…After what had happened, Takayuki had stayed on top of Kunihiro’s chest, crying for a while. Throughout the entire time he wept, Kunihiro didn’t offer a single word of comfort. Once he finally calmed down and stood up, Kunihiro also rose, brushing the dust from his back and waist, then letting out a deep sigh.

“Go back to your room,” Kunihiro had said coldly, dismissing him from the office.

Takayuki had returned to the room, but sleep was out of the question. He sat in the chair, staring at the rain falling through the night. Kunihiro’s words replayed in his mind, over and over. Each time he recalled what had been said to him, a sharp pain pricked his chest like needles. He didn’t want to think about the past anymore. He knew this deep down, but he had chosen to pretend otherwise. He had a sense that acknowledging the truth would only make him feel more wretched and miserable.

“Here is your receipt,” a female employee said with a smile as she handed it to him.

“And is Himi-san with you?”

“I’m Himi,” Takayuki replied.

“One more thing. Kunihiro left this for you.”

She handed him an envelope with the hotel’s logo printed on it. His hand trembled as he took it. The back was securely sealed. Fear gripped him—he was too scared to see what was written inside. He handed the receipt to Hatoya and shoved the letter deep into his bag.

Even on the return trip on the bullet train, the letter weighed heavily on his mind. But no matter how much it gnawed at him, he couldn’t find the courage to pull it out and break the seal.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The following Sunday, the sky was clear and bright, as if the previous week’s storm had been a lie. In the afternoon, Takayuki met his father at a café on the main street. They rarely communicated—just the occasional reply to a message. When his father called, Takayuki would barely speak. He hadn’t invited him to his university graduation, and he had declined an offer to celebrate his new job over a meal. Although they lived close to each other, it had been years since they’d met face-to-face.

Takayuki arrived a little late, and his father was already seated by the window. He was in his fifties but didn’t look it. His face was still handsome, and his slim figure showed no signs of being middle-aged. Though his father was indifferent to his appearance, his partner, Seiichi, loved fashion, so he was always dressed in stylish clothes. Today, he wore a perfectly coordinated light monochrome outfit.

When his father noticed him, he smiled warmly.

“It’s been a while. Seiichi wanted to see you too, you know.”

He had said the same thing over the phone, but Takayuki had made it clear that he didn’t want Seiichi there.
“I wanted to talk to you, just the two of us.”

Seiichi, his father’s live-in partner, was a cheerful, friendly man. Takayuki didn’t dislike him—Seiichi had always been kind to him. If there was one thing that bothered him, though, it wasn’t Seiichi’s fault.

When he was a child, Takayuki had once asked, “Who do you love more, me or Seiichi?” His father had only smiled awkwardly, unable to answer. It was an unbearably honest reaction. His father’s number one was always Seiichi, no matter the situation, and Takayuki was always second.

A waitress came to take their orders. Takayuki asked for coffee, and his father ordered iced tea.

“I saw Kunihiro the other day,” Takayuki said, trying to sound casual. His father’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Where?”

“In S City. He was working at a business hotel I stayed at during a business trip.”

His father murmured, “I see.”

“Was he doing well?”

“He’s aged… looks like an old man now.”

His father narrowed his eyes with a slight smile.

“He’s about ten years younger than me, so he must be around forty now. Hearing how old he is makes me feel old too. But I’m glad you got to see him. You’ve been looking for him all this time, right?”

Thinking back to the way things had gone in that office, Takayuki couldn’t possibly say it had been a good reunion.
“Is that why you reached out to me? Because you saw Kunihiro?” his father asked.

Takayuki shrugged. “Not really.” His father didn’t press the subject further. Instead, he began asking little things about Takayuki’s company and his work. During a lull in the conversation, Takayuki gathered the courage to ask a question that had been on his mind.

“What kind of person was Kunihiro?”

His father set down his half-finished glass on the coaster and tilted his head slightly, as if puzzled by the question.
“Shouldn’t you know better than me?”

Takayuki clammed up, irritated by the response. Whenever his father answered like that, it left him speechless.

“Well, Kunihiro was… let’s see. He was a bit needy and lonely, I guess,” his father finally said.

Takayuki dumped sugar into his half-empty coffee, stirring it violently with a spoon. When he took a sip, it tasted like the coffee he had spilled all over Kunihiro in the office.

“Do you think he ever loved me?” he asked.

“Why do you ask?” his father replied, genuinely curious. Takayuki couldn’t bring himself to say that Kunihiro had told him he left because he couldn’t stand the idea of babysitting him. The two fell into silence once again. After his business trip, Takayuki had thought about it a lot. The more he thought about those days, the more it felt like everything they had shared was being invalidated, leaving him with nothing but emptiness. The real reason he had asked to meet his father today was because he wanted his father to reassure him, to tell him, “Yes, Kunihiro loved you too.”

“Did you and Kunihiro…?” his father asked suddenly. It was the first time he had ever directly asked if they had been physically intimate. Takayuki nodded, and his father covered his mouth with both hands.

“In truth, I should have stopped it the moment I realized,” his father said softly.

“…That’s a personal matter,” Takayuki replied.

His father shook his head.

“No, it was too soon for you. You were too young to understand your own feelings, let alone each other’s. But I felt so guilty myself that I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t stop you. So, to be honest, when Kunihiro decided to leave, I was relieved.”

“I’m a terrible father,” he muttered. The ice in his iced tea had melted, and the cubes collapsed with a clink in the glass as his father’s hand tightened around it.

“You’re an adult now. I’m not going to interfere. You’re old enough to take responsibility for your own choices. So, whoever you decide to be with or however you choose to love, it’s your call.”

Takayuki looked down, gripping his hands tightly on his lap.

“Are you going to try and be with Kunihiro again?” his father asked.

“I… don’t know.”

His father laughed at Takayuki’s dismissive answer.

“You don’t know? About your own feelings?”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Meeting with his father hadn’t solved anything. Emotions were such vague, uncertain things, and now, even the feelings Takayuki had been so sure of were slipping away. What he had believed was his first love was now teetering, and the thought that their kisses and sex might have been mere dependence rather than love grew stronger.

The letter Kunihiro had given him remained sealed in his drawer. He wanted to read it, but at the same time, he didn’t. He feared it might be filled with accusations about his outburst in the office and a final declaration that Kunihiro never wanted to see him again.

…Enough. Takayuki tried to convince himself. What he had once believed was pure love didn’t need to be romantic anymore. If it was just a way to ease their loneliness, if it was nothing more than physical comfort, he could accept that. He didn’t like it, but he could admit it. He could acknowledge that he had used sex as a form of “consolation.” He had wanted to believe it was pure love until the day he died, to leave behind something beautiful instead of something twisted and pathetic.

But with that letter lying there, he couldn’t let go of the feelings that haunted him. When he finally tried to tear the envelope in half, he noticed something odd—it felt unusually firm. There was more than just a letter inside. He retrieved a pair of scissors and carefully opened the seal. Inside the crisp white stationery was a photograph. A picture of the sky. His whole body trembled. It was the same photo he had often stared at when he visited Kunihiro’s room back in middle school. With shaking hands, he turned it over. Written in black marker was a single word: “Sorry.”

Suddenly, it all came flooding back. It was Takayuki who had been lonely, desperately clinging to Kunihiro. He had been the one seeking comfort, starving for the affection he lacked. Like a stray puppy who had lost its mother, he had clung to Kunihiro, and Kunihiro had never pushed him away. No reason was needed for it—it was never about having a reason. What mattered was that Kunihiro had given him a place where he felt safe, where his heart could heal.

Takayuki searched for the hotel’s phone number on his smartphone. The ringing echoed in his ears. When a female employee answered, he asked to speak with Kunihiro.

“Yes, this is Kunihiro, Front Desk Manager.”

Takayuki’s hand trembled as he held the phone.

“It’s Takayuki.”

He heard Kunihiro sharply inhale on the other end.

“I want to talk to you again.”

“I’m at work right now,” Kunihiro replied curtly.

“I’ll come to you. Please, just meet with me one more time.”

“Could you give me your phone number, please?” Kunihiro asked.

“Huh?”

“Your phone number.”

Takayuki rattled off the number, and Kunihiro hung up abruptly. Moments later, his phone rang from an unknown number.

“…Hello, this is Himi.”

“I told you, I’m working right now,” Kunihiro said, his voice tinged with irritation.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s a pain when you call me at work out of the blue.”

“I’m sorry, but I want to see you. I need to talk.”

Takayuki gripped the phone tightly, pleading.

“I don’t want to.”

Kunihiro’s rejection was short and final. Before Takayuki could respond, Kunihiro muttered, “You’re too rough with me.”

“I won’t be rough. I’ll never do that again. …I’m sorry about last time.”

Silence followed on the other end.

“Even if we meet, what’s the point? Just forget about me already.”

Maybe he was being a nuisance. The thought of backing down crossed Takayuki’s mind. But he still couldn’t settle things within himself.

“…Why was it a photo of the sky? Why did you give me that?”

“The photo? Oh, that. It doesn’t mean anything. I just remembered how you used to always look at it.”

It meant something. It absolutely did. The fact that Kunihiro had remembered it was meaningful.

“I want to see you. I want to meet and talk. This time, I want to really, properly love you.”

Kunihiro was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, it was a muttered, “I don’t know about that.”

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