MUNDANE HURT: Chapter 4

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It was Nagano who suggested they have lunch on the rooftop. Despite the sunny weather, the windows in the classroom rattled slightly from the wind.

“It’s windy outside. It’s definitely going to be cold,” Nishizaki protested, making no effort to hide his displeasure, but Nagano insisted, “It’ll be fine,” without offering any real reason. The rooftop had plenty of hidden corners, well out of view—he just wanted an excuse to kiss, Nishizaki figured. Still, Nagano kept pressing, “Come on, let’s go, let’s go!” until Nishizaki finally caved with a reluctant “Fine.”

But, even though he’d invited him, as soon as fourth period ended, Nagano was summoned to the teacher’s office by Asakuni-sensei. Nishizaki saw no point in waiting around, hungry, just out of politeness. He went up to the rooftop and started eating his lunch alone, figuring Nagano would join him soon. But he finished his food, and there was still no sign of Nagano. Bored and starting to feel the chill, he pulled a cigarette and lighter from the inner pocket of his jacket, annoyed.

Nagano didn’t like Nishizaki’s smoking. The first time he’d caught him with a cigarette, he’d said something like, “It’s bad for your health. I’d hate to see you get sick, so could you quit?” It was a sweet thought, and Nishizaki managed to go three whole days without smoking. But eventually, the allure of nicotine won out, and he found himself back to his regular pace—a pack a day. Nicotine cravings had outweighed the fleeting satisfaction of making Nagano happy.

Even though he made sure not to smoke around Nagano, somehow, like a bloodhound, Nagano would know. “Did you smoke?” he’d ask. Nishizaki would play it cool, “Nope, it’s probably just leftover from last time,” but Nagano would just narrow his eyes, clearly not buying it.

The smoke drifted away in the breeze, and he opened a mobile game on his phone. He couldn’t get into it, though; he was already bored of the game, and just waiting around made him feel like he was rotting. Not that things would get any more exciting once Nagano arrived.

The reason was simple: Nagano just wasn’t an interesting guy. He didn’t watch TV, so he didn’t know any celebrities or popular music. He didn’t read manga, didn’t game, and didn’t go online much either. Their only shared topics came from the narrow confines of the classroom. They’d talk for maybe ten minutes, then run out of things to say.

A lot of the time, they’d just sit there, not talking. Nagano seemed perfectly content with that, but for Nishizaki, the initial thrill had already started to wear off. He’d been excited at first, in a rebellious kind of way, just because it was a guy. But now, it felt like the feeling had vanished altogether.

He knew this feeling well. It was like with clothes. He’d spot something cool in a magazine, hunt it down at a store, and when it wasn’t in stock, he’d eagerly wait for a restock. Finally, he’d get his hands on it, thrilled at first, only to find it wasn’t as great as he thought it would be. If it had been easy to get, he’d probably have forgotten about it as soon as he’d bought it. But because he’d had to wait and search, he’d ended up idealizing it.

Nagano was the same way. He’d looked so cool during the sports festival, and Nishizaki, bored and looking for a bit of fun, had set his sights on him as a game. When Nagano didn’t immediately respond, Nishizaki’s determination had only strengthened. And when Nagano finally fell for it, much faster than Nishizaki had expected, the truth became clear: he wasn’t nearly as interesting as Nishizaki had imagined.

They’d only been officially dating for ten days, but that confession from Nagano was, in Nishizaki’s mind, already the peak of the relationship. After that, everything had just gone downhill. The thrill of the chase had been more enjoyable than the relationship itself, which had already grown stale.

At first, Nagano’s reserved, honor-student persona had felt mysterious. But as they started dating, Nishizaki could see the real Nagano—awkward, unfashionable, and clumsy. And on top of that, there was an air of poverty clinging to him that was hard to ignore.

On the second day of dating, Nishizaki had given Nagano a CD with about fifteen songs on it, hoping they could share the music he liked and maybe even find some new conversation topics. But on that same day, he’d spotted Nagano handing the CD to Kitao, lending it out.

On the way home from school, Nishizaki furiously confronted Nagano. He raged, asking why he’d lent the CD to Kitao without even listening to it himself. The usually composed honor student looked close to tears as he confessed that he didn’t own anything to play CDs on. He’d given it to Kitao to listen to, planning to ask him what he thought. Nishizaki was dumbstruck by the absurdity. What was this, the last relic of the Showa era?

Standing by the windy riverside, Nagano’s face had gone as pale as the river’s surface. 

“...Why not just buy one?” 

Nagano shook his head with downcast eyes. “I can’t afford it.” 

“You must get some allowance,” Nishizaki pressed. 

“I haven’t received any since I started high school.” 

“So, what, you can’t even grab a snack after school?” 

“It’s against school policy to go into shops on the way home.” 

Nishizaki was stunned by this sudden reappearance of the rules from the student handbook. 

“Who actually follows that rule?” 

“I do.” 

Right in front of him. Unbelievable. Nishizaki kicked a small rock in frustration, muttering, “You’re such an idiot,” pretending not to notice how Nagano’s mouth trembled slightly. They walked in silence until they reached the intersection where their paths split, neither saying another word.

Nishizaki forgot about the conversation that same day, and since Nagano acted as usual the next day, he figured the matter was over. But apparently, it wasn’t. Two days after the argument by the river, Nishizaki arrived at school just in time, taking his seat when Nagano appeared at his desk without a word of greeting and announced, “I got a CD player from a friend. It’s old, but it works.” He was smiling ear-to-ear. 

“I listened to that CD too. I really liked one of the songs on it.” 

He looked like a dog eager for praise, practically wagging his invisible tail. Nishizaki was taken aback—he’d had to rely on charity to get the CD player, and yet here he was, proudly sharing it.

“...Oh, that’s nice, then.” 

At Nishizaki’s brief acknowledgment, Nagano’s smile broadened even further. How lame. Totally lame. From that point on, Nagano’s uncool traits began to stand out more and more.

After school, they’d sometimes go shopping or to the arcade together. Nagano would tag along but never bought anything, never played any games. At first, Nishizaki thought he just wasn’t interested, but after the riverside incident, he understood that Nagano simply didn’t have any money. 

Not having money is a shame, and dating became limited to the park. They were in high school, not middle school—what was interesting about hanging around a park? And for refreshment, they’d drink free water from the fountain. For the first time in his life, Nishizaki tried drinking fountain water, but it tasted disgusting and left him feeling sick after one sip. Watching Nagano gulp it down with relish made Nishizaki want to gag. This was hopeless; they were on completely different levels.

As Nagano’s quirks piled up, Nishizaki’s enthusiasm plummeted, yet, strangely, Nagano seemed to be getting more invested as the days went by. In class, Nagano would drop his eraser repeatedly, glancing back at Nishizaki each time. If they ate lunch together, Nagano would barely take his eyes off him. His unwavering, almost blinding affection was just… uncomfortable.

The door to the rooftop finally opened, and the clingy guy himself appeared. Nishizaki stubbed his cigarette out on the concrete railing and discreetly flicked the butt down through the gaps in the fence. As soon as Nagano spotted him, he came rushing over like a puppy finding its owner. 

“Sorry I’m late.” 

“I already ate.” 

“Oh, good. I’d have felt bad if you’d been starving.” 

Nagano naturally sat close enough that their shoulders touched. 

“Hey, you’re too close. It’s weird,” Nishizaki complained. 

“It’s fine. People will just think we’re staying close for warmth.” 

Nagano unpacked his lunch, a lineup of brownish simmered side dishes that always looked anything but appetizing. In Nishizaki’s mind, he called it “pig food,” which Nagano dug into eagerly.

“Asakuni-sensei mentioned a private university with a scholarship that I might be able to get a recommendation for,” Nagano said suddenly. “It’s S University. They only offer one spot, but he said if I keep my grades up, I’d have a good chance.” 

He was talking about the university spot Nishizaki had already secured through connections. Asakuni probably didn’t know the recommendation was already spoken for. That’s a no-go, Nishizaki thought, but he couldn’t say anything. He sent Nagano a silent good luck, figuring he’d probably get in through regular admission. He was smart enough to make it on his own.

"Have you decided where you're going for college?" 

There was no way Nishizaki could tell him about S University, so he replied with a question instead, “Why do you ask?” Nagano’s cheeks flushed slightly. 

“I just thought… if we could go somewhere together, or at least be close by, that’d be nice.” 

Then he added, “But only if it’s possible. I mean, if you have other plans, I’d understand.” 

Nagano’s hand gripped Nishizaki’s wrist tightly, radiating heat from where they touched. 

“Hey, if you don’t eat soon, lunch will be over,” Nishizaki said. Nagano let go, then dug into his bento with an intensity, while Nishizaki, already full and bored, started feeling sleepy. Resting his head on Nagano’s shoulder, he closed his eyes and drifted off. 

…He woke to the sensation of fingers brushing his cheek. The touch glided to his upper lip, tracing its shape. When Nishizaki darted his tongue out and licked the fingertip, the hand jerked back in surprise.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“You woke me up.”

Nagano shot to his feet and grabbed Nishizaki by the arm, his grip firm. “Where are you taking me now?” Nishizaki muttered, allowing himself to be pulled along. They ended up in a secluded spot on the rooftop, where Nagano, breathing heavily like an excited horse, leaned in and kissed him. Nagano’s tongue prodded at his lips, impatient, almost desperate. Nishizaki sighed inwardly and parted his lips, letting him in.

The guy wasn’t bad at kissing anymore. He’d started out terrible, but after some guidance, he’d improved. These days, he even knew how to hit the right spots. And honestly, if he couldn’t at least get good at this, what’s the point of dating him? Nishizaki thought, barely suppressing a smirk.

As their kiss dragged on, intense and a little too clingy, Nagano’s hand wandered up to Nishizaki’s chest, touching him through his shirt. Nishizaki didn’t bother stopping him—it wasn’t like he cared that much—but lately, Nagano’s touches had started hinting at something more. It was obvious he wanted to go further.

Back when they first started dating, Nishizaki had thought, Maybe hooking up with a guy could be interesting. Now? Not so much. Just last week, during one of their make-out sessions, Nagano’s hard-on had brushed against Nishizaki’s thigh, and the moment had been so shocking it was practically a revelation: Yeah, nope. I’m not doing this.

If Nagano insisted, maybe Nishizaki could settle for a mutual handjob. But even that seems like it’d lead to trouble. Nagano didn’t seem like the type who could keep things casual. If they crossed that line, Nishizaki was pretty sure the guy would cling to him until the end of time.

When the kiss finally broke, Nagano didn’t pull away completely. Instead, he latched onto Nishizaki’s neck, sucking at his skin as if trying to leave a permanent mark. I really need to wrap this up soon. Nishizaki thought. There was no way he’d keep up this farce much longer.

His plan was already in motion. Tomorrow was the closing ceremony before winter break, and he’d be flying to the States with his brother and mom. It was just a week-long trip, but he’d told Nagano he wouldn’t be back until the start of the new semester. Once there’s some distance, this thing should fizzle out on its own.

“By the way, are you keeping up with your studying?” Nishizaki asked, changing the subject.

Nagano lifted his head, his expression sheepish. These days, when Nishizaki asked him to hang out after school, Nagano always ditched his library plans without hesitation. The studious guy he used to be was nowhere to be found, and Nishizaki could only assume his study time had taken a serious hit.

“I’d hate for your grades to drop because of me,” Nishizaki said lightly. “Not to mention, Kitao would probably have something to say about it.”

Nagano’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Kitao has nothing to do with this.”

“Well, he did warn me,” Nishizaki replied with a shrug. “Told me not to lead you into any bad behavior.”

Smirking, Nishizaki reached out and pulled Nagano close, planting a firm kiss on his neck. When he leaned back, a conspicuous hickey bloomed on Nagano’s pale skin.

“This counts as a bad behavior, right?” Nishizaki teased, letting out a wicked chuckle.

Nagano didn’t reply. Instead, he suddenly scooped Nishizaki up, lifting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing. Nagano began to sway gently, rocking him back and forth like a child.

With his feet dangling in midair, Nishizaki couldn’t help but laugh. What is this? Weirdly fun, though.

"Do it again," Nishizaki asked, a little playful, as he held out his arms. 

"Sure," Nagano replied, and this time he lifted him higher, swaying him back and forth with even more force. 

“Whoa, too much! That's way too intense!” Nishizaki laughed but felt a flash of nervousness. Nagano just laughed out loud in return. It was strange—he knew he should end things soon, but every now and then, things felt unexpectedly good between them. 

“Don’t worry about Kitao,” Nagano said as he gently set Nishizaki back down and then pulled him into a tight embrace. 

“Come over tonight,” he whispered close to Nishizaki’s ear, and his heart skipped a beat. Was he… actually inviting him over? 

“Tomorrow’s the closing ceremony, and after that, we won’t see each other for a while. I want you to come by and have dinner with us. I told my mom there might be a friend coming over tonight.”

Realizing Nagano’s mom would be home, Nishizaki felt a slight relief—no pressure for things to get intense. But at the same time, his mood took a nosedive. Inviting him over while his mom was around—did he not understand anything about how romance worked? There was just zero sense of intrigue here. 

Still, he was undeniably curious. This guy was so broke he couldn’t even afford a uniform or pocket money, so Nishizaki couldn’t help but wonder what his house looked like, or even his room. It was curiosity, more than anything, like wanting to catch a glimpse of something strange. 

“Alright, I’ll go,” he said finally. 

Nagano’s face brightened instantly, and with a beaming smile, he patted Nishizaki’s head gently, saying, “Come on over.”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Against the backdrop of a dark orange dusk, the two-story apartment building loomed like a haunted house, its worn-down exterior standing forlornly. The walls, once painted pink, were now rusted red along the bottom half, and tufts of grass grew stubbornly on the roof. Nishizaki knew it wasn’t a luxury building, but he was still speechless at the sheer shabbiness of the place.

“We’re on the second floor,” Nagano said.

Nishizaki fought the urge to turn on his heel and leave, but he forced himself to follow the guy who lived in what looked like a haunted house. The iron staircase creaked and rattled with each step, the peeling red-brown paint showing the rust underneath, only heightening his unease. Upstairs, four doors lined the corridor, each accompanied by a washing machine placed outside.

“Uh... why are the washing machines outside?” Nishizaki asked.

“There’s no drainage for them inside.”

Even with the explanation, Nishizaki’s mind swarmed with question marks. Could washing machines even be kept outside like that?

“This is us,” Nagano said, stopping at a door with a peeling, decayed bottom that looked like it would fly off with a single kick. Not exactly secure. Nishizaki’s instincts screamed that this place was a bad idea, but he couldn’t think of an excuse to leave and followed him inside. A thin middle-aged woman appeared, smiling as though seeing Nishizaki was the highlight of her day.

Her face was gaunt and lined, with smudges of makeup clinging to her skin. She wore a white T-shirt with a local co-op logo, and the faint outline of her bra was visible through it. Her purple sweatpants were worn white at the knees, as unfashionable as the school gym uniform. Nishizaki wanted to avert his eyes.

“Hello. Thank you for looking out for Masayuki. Please, make yourself at home.”

Inside, the room wasn’t as awful as the exterior. It was old and dingy, but reasonably clean.

“You must be hungry. Go ahead and sit down,” she said, guiding him to a hard, flattened cushion on the floor. She set a plate of curry in front of him, the aroma unmistakably that of a cheap, packaged curry—not appetizing at all. But he couldn’t refuse, so he picked up the spoon, saying a forced “Thank you,” and took a bite. The curry tasted every bit as bland as he’d feared, nearly making him gag. It had no thickness, and the flavor was watery. There were a few chunks of potato, carrot, and chicken, but even the rice had a faint musty smell. He swallowed it whole, trying not to taste it.

The side salad offered no relief. It consisted of soggy lettuce and cucumbers with too much sour dressing drowning out any flavor the vegetables might have had.

Nagano ate the curry without a second thought, as did his mother. Nishizaki wondered why he’d ever let himself be curious enough to come here after seeing Nagano’s lunches every day.

“There’s plenty, so don’t hold back,” she said cheerfully.

There was no way he could stomach more than half of it. After dinner, Nagano led him to his room, but the tasteless curry and salad had left Nishizaki oddly drained. The tiny three-and-a-half tatami room held a desk in one corner and a folded futon in the other, leaving hardly any space to sit. With no other option, they sat side by side on the futon. The only barrier between them and the hallway was a single sliding door—definitely not a place for anything remotely intimate.

After about an hour, Nagano’s mother left for her night shift, and Nishizaki took the opportunity to say, “I’d better get going.” Nagano looked a bit disappointed, urging him to stay longer, but Nishizaki was desperate to escape. “Don’t want to keep you from studying,” he lied.

Despite Nishizaki’s insistence that he knew the way, Nagano insisted on walking him to the station. If he hadn’t, Nishizaki would have taken a taxi home—but nothing seemed to go as planned.

Even long after dinner, the taste of that forced-down curry still lingered unpleasantly in Nishizaki’s mouth, making him feel queasy. He wanted to brush his teeth as soon as possible, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together anxiously. They were just about a hundred meters from the station when Nagano suddenly suggested, “Let’s go through the park.” Nishizaki suspected it was just an excuse to kiss, which he found annoying, but Nagano’s grip on his hand was firm, so he didn’t argue.

Just as he predicted, Nagano led him to a dim corner of the park and went in for a kiss. The faint smell of that curry was still on his breath, making Nishizaki feel nauseated. This was just too much; he couldn’t do this. He realized only now that Nagano’s high school uniform had somehow managed to mask his unfortunate aura.

“I’m heading home,” he muttered, desperate for the ordeal to be over.

“I’d like to stay with you a bit longer,” Nagano murmured, pleading, and sat down on a bench, still holding Nishizaki’s hand. They were under a streetlight, with people occasionally passing by. It was uncomfortable being seen holding hands with another guy, and every time Nishizaki tried to pull away, Nagano just held on tighter.

“My mom said you’re a really handsome, refined guy,” Nagano said suddenly.

“Your mom is…a friendly person,” Nishizaki replied, biting his tongue on his true thoughts. The fact was, he’d rather do anything than share space with that ugly woman. Yet, someone had married her. Nagano’s father, however, hadn’t been home when they left the apartment after eight.

“Is your dad usually home late?”

Nagano fell silent, an awkward pause stretching out.

“I don’t have a father,” he finally said in a low voice.

Nishizaki wondered if his father had passed away or left. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bring that up.”

Nagano shook his head. “It’s fine.”

That explained it: a single mother with a low income, hence Nagano’s poverty. Divorce or death didn’t make a difference to Nishizaki. A slight wind had picked up, and with one hand in Nagano’s tight grip, he stuck his left hand in his coat pocket to warm it. Noticing, Nagano put Nishizaki’s right hand into his own coat pocket, fingers intertwining intimately inside. It felt uncomfortably close.

Nagano looked down at him and said quietly, “Please don’t think less of me…but my father is in prison.”

The unexpected words made Nishizaki’s mind go blank for a moment. “Prison?”

“Seven years for fraud and attempted murder. He has another four years to go.”

Nishizaki swallowed hard. “Seriously?”

“When I was in middle school, my dad’s business started struggling. He borrowed around a hundred million yen from a few acquaintances, but he had no way of paying it back. One of the people he deceived came to the office to confront him, and they fought. My dad shoved him, and he fell out of a window. The man survived but injured his back so badly he couldn’t walk again.”

Despite Nishizaki’s silence, Nagano continued.

“Word spread quickly in our small town. My uncle told my mom to think of my future, so she divorced my dad and moved us here, close to her family.”

Nagano stared down at a pebble by his foot. “The man my dad hurt…he was the father of one of my classmates. I was in the track team back then, and one day my classmate asked me, ‘Why are you running when my dad can’t even walk?’”

So…that’s why Nagano stopped running?

“In the end, my dad’s company went bankrupt. My mom has been working to pay back those debts a little at a time, as her way of apologizing, I guess. I should have just gone to work after middle school, but…I really wanted to become a lawyer. The one who represented my dad was an amazing person, and I wanted to be like him. So my mom let me go to high school despite everything.”

The weight of his story was suffocating. Nishizaki felt overwhelmed, thinking this was far more than he’d bargained for. He wasn’t looking for a relationship with this level of depth. Nagano let out a long sigh.

"I’ve never told anyone about my father before," Nagano said. "When I graduated middle school, my parents divorced, and we moved, so my classmates don’t know. Kitao…he went to a different school, but we ran into each other at a few track meets, and he probably knows since he has family back there who know about the whole thing."

"That must’ve been tough."

"I’m fine," Nagano replied, giving a small smile. "I came into high school thinking I didn’t need friends, you know? I didn’t want anyone finding out about my dad."

"And yet here you are telling me."

"I wanted to tell you," Nagano admitted. "...I wanted the person I like to know who I really am."

In the end, Nagano walked Nishizaki all the way to the station, where they parted ways. Nagano stayed in place, watching Nishizaki walk through the gates and disappear from view. When Nagano’s gaze finally left him, Nishizaki felt the tension he’d been holding suddenly drain away.

"Man, that guy is seriously bad news."

The phrases “father’s a criminal” and “serving time” echoed in his mind, chilling his spine long after. Divorced or not, they were still connected by blood. Sure, Nagano’s heavy vibe had weighed on him, but now that he was on his own again, he was downright furious. What kind of self-centered person dumps all that on someone else without a thought about how it would make them feel? Who in their right mind would be grateful for hearing something like that? Idiot. His dad was one hundred percent in the wrong, scamming people and leaving one half-dead.

Nagano had already been grating on him, and this dark family baggage made things officially intolerable. The game was over. Dealing with people like him was a mistake. But…he sighed, catching his reflection in the darkened train window. Ending things wouldn’t be easy; Nagano would probably lose it. What a pain. If only he’d just disappear on his own. That way, Nishizaki wouldn’t even have to worry about how to end it.

If Nagano were to die now, he thought, maybe then he’d finally feel some relief. He might even cry a little—out of gratitude.

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