MUNDANE HURT: Chapter 22

Previous TOC

"Want to go out?"

Nagano made the suggestion during their shared day off as they sat down to eat a late breakfast—or maybe an early lunch—around 11 a.m.

The night before, knowing they didn’t have to work the next day, they’d stayed up until dawn. Nishizaki didn’t mind; he’d wanted it, enjoyed it. But now, a dull heaviness lingered around his lower back. Even so, it wasn’t as though he couldn’t go out.

What struck him most was that Nagano—usually uninterested and reluctant to leave the apartment—had initiated an outing. That in itself was rare and precious.

“Sure, but where are we going? Shopping?” Nishizaki asked.

Nagano, nibbling on his toast, paused mid-bite as though considering something. “It’s a secret,” he finally said.

The elementary-school-style response was enough to irritate Nishizaki. “What does that even mean? If you don’t tell me, I’m not going,” he threatened.

“That would be a problem,” Nagano replied, his expression suddenly serious. It was baffling, but the sincerity made Nishizaki relent. “Fine, whatever,” he said, earning a visible sigh of relief from Nagano.

They left the apartment just past noon. Nagano wore a T-shirt and a pair of shorts that ended above his knees—a look so casual it bordered on careless. He’s always been hopeless with fashion, Nishizaki thought. Nagano’s attire suggested they weren’t going far—maybe just a stroll around the neighborhood.

The weather outside was stiflingly hot. Even in September, the sun blazed like midsummer. Not wanting to tan, Nishizaki had chosen a long-sleeved shirt and jeans that reached his ankles. To avoid looking too stuffy, he’d rolled the cuffs of both slightly and paired them with sandals.

At some point, Nagano led them into the subway station. Nishizaki assumed they were headed to a nearby home improvement store, but when Nagano bought two tickets for 240 yen each, he realized it was a bit farther than expected.

240 yen… where could we be going? As he followed Nagano through the ticket gate and down the stairs to the platform, his knee suddenly buckled.

“Whoa!” His body pitched forward, but thankfully, there were only two steps left. He managed an awkward landing on the platform, avoiding disaster. If it had happened higher up, that could’ve been bad.

“What are you doing?” Nagano asked, walking back toward him.

“My knee gave out,” Nishizaki explained, brushing himself off.

Without a word, Nagano reached out, grabbing Nishizaki’s right hand with his left. Then, he started walking slowly alongside him. The occasional glance from passersby flitted toward their clasped hands.

“This is kind of embarrassing…” Nishizaki muttered. Nagano must have heard him but gave no response. It seemed he had no intention of letting go.

Even as they waited on the platform for the train, Nagano kept their hands joined. Eventually, Nishizaki gave up, resigning himself to the situation. They boarded the train, which was relatively empty in the mid-day lull, and found seats together. With the sparse crowd and no one paying attention to them, Nishizaki finally relaxed. I guess it’s fine.

It had been about eight months since Nagano and Nishizaki had formalized their relationship through adoption, creating the equivalent of a marriage between two men. Not even a year had passed, so it still felt like the newlywed stage.

Nagano had always been a resolute man. Once he decided on something, he didn’t budge. When he’d made up his mind about marrying another man, he hadn’t seen it as anything to be ashamed of. That same confidence now allowed him to hold Nishizaki’s hand openly in public, facing any potential judgment head-on. If someone laughed or criticized, Nagano would confront them directly. He believes so firmly that what he’s doing is right, Nishizaki thought, watching Nagano’s composed demeanor.

For Nishizaki, this resoluteness was one of the things he admired most.

I’m loved. Sometimes, I feel it’s overwhelming—too much—but I was the one who wanted someone like him in the first place.

As the train swayed gently, Nagano’s head lolled onto Nishizaki’s shoulder. The rhythm must feel soothing. His relaxed, unguarded face was almost comically endearing. Nishizaki let him sleep, watching the peaceful expression. Where are we even getting off? he wondered idly.

A middle-aged man boarding from one of the stations cast a disapproving glance at their joined hands. Irritated, Nishizaki closed his eyes and, before he realized it, had dozed off as well.

When they finally woke, they’d overshot their stop by four stations. Scrambling to exit, they rushed to the platform, crossed to the opposite side, and caught a train heading back. Nagano brushed off the mistake with a nonsensical excuse: “The air conditioning on the train was just so comfortable.”

Their destination turned out to be a small, local station that even express trains bypassed. Nishizaki had never been there before. As they walked, curiosity gnawed at him. What could possibly be here?

After ten minutes, they entered a quiet residential neighborhood lined with older houses. Nagano stopped in front of one—a two-story house surrounded by a concrete wall, with overgrown weeds filling the visible yard. Only the second floor was visible from outside. The house appeared abandoned.

Nagano pushed open an unlocked iron gate and stepped inside. “H-hey! Are you sure this is okay?” Nishizaki called out, hurrying after him.

“It’s fine,” Nagano replied casually, heading toward the front door. To Nishizaki’s shock, he pulled out a key and unlocked it. The interior was empty but clean, with no sign of dust or neglect.

Nagano removed his shoes, stepped inside, and put on a pair of slippers. Nishizaki followed, still bewildered. They passed the kitchen and entered a sunlit living room.

“What do you think of this house?” Nagano asked abruptly.

“What do I think?” Nishizaki repeated. “It’s… just a house.”

Nagano nodded toward the room. “We could renovate the first floor into a café. There’s enough space upstairs for the two of us to live.”

“Wait, hold on!” Nishizaki grabbed Nagano’s arm. “I’m not following any of this. Are you saying you… bought this house?”

“No,” Nagano replied matter-of-factly. “I was given it.”

What? Nishizaki stared in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

Ignoring him, Nagano opened a window in the living room to let in some air, sitting on the sill as he spoke. “My mom’s remarried, remember? Her husband is wealthy.”

Nishizaki recalled visiting Nagano’s mother’s home—a spacious, well-maintained condo. Her comfortable lifestyle as a housewife had hinted at her husband’s financial stability.

“They’re both remarried, so there are stepchildren on both sides. My parents are getting older, and I wanted to avoid inheritance disputes down the line. So, I signed a document waiving any right to inherit from my stepfather.”

“Wait, was that their idea?” Nishizaki asked.

“No, it was mine,” Nagano said, shaking his head. “I suggested it because it seemed simpler. I’ve never planned to rely on an inheritance; I can live fine on my income. My mom agreed, but it seems my stepfather felt guilty about it.”

Nagano glanced around the room as he continued. “Recently, a distant relative of his passed away, and he inherited this house. He gave it to me, saying the family had no intention of using it and that it would cause fewer problems this way. I tried to refuse, but he insisted, saying the house wasn’t originally meant to come to him anyway and that it was the collective decision of their family.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the empty space. It’s not much, but it has potential.

“The building itself isn’t worth much, but the land alone is worth millions of yen. That’s why I thought… maybe we could do something with it.”

"The inheritance process is finished, so this house is officially mine now," Nagano declared. "I don’t know much about running a café, so I want you to handle that part."

The idea of suddenly having a house, and on top of that, being able to run a café, was surreal. The vague dream Nishizaki once had of opening a café had abruptly become a tangible reality, leaving him feeling disoriented.

"You’ve worked at Sasaki’s café for years. You know about coffee beans, and you’ve got the basics of running a place down," Nagano continued.

"Well… yeah, but still…"

"Are you worried about something?"

Nagano’s question prompted Nishizaki to approach the man sitting by the window.

"Running a café is tough," Nishizaki admitted. "It might not do well. What if we only get one customer a day?"

"Since it’s in our home, we won’t need to pay rent. That should keep us out of the red," Nagano replied with his usual pragmatism.

"Well… I guess that’s true," Nishizaki said hesitantly.

"Want to check out the second floor?" Nagano offered.

"No," Nishizaki muttered but followed him upstairs anyway. The second floor consisted of three six-tatami rooms connected by a hallway—a fairly spacious layout.

"If we’re converting the first floor into a café, we’ll need to move the plumbing upstairs. But that should be manageable," Nagano explained, already discussing specifics. Listening to him, the reality began to sink in. We’re really going to live here.

"I don’t need my own room. Instead, I’d like a big bed," Nishizaki remarked suddenly.

Nagano rejected the idea immediately. "A smaller bed is fine."

"It’s cramped."

“Small is better.” Nagano’s expression didn’t waver, even as he added, “We sleep curled up together anyway. There’s no need for something bigger.”

Nagano’s obstinance was almost exasperating. "It might be fine for you, but during sex, my hands, head, or something always ends up hitting the wall or the bed frame. It hurts, you know," Nishizaki protested. Though Nagano seemed to acknowledge the point, his expression suggested he didn’t like it. "I’ll think about it," he conceded grudgingly.

"And the bathtub," Nishizaki added. "I want one big enough that I don’t have to fold myself up like a ninja to fit."

"I could go for a bigger bath too," Nagano agreed.

As the afternoon heat intensified, Nagano opened all the windows upstairs. Stale air escaped, and a pleasant breeze swept through the space. Looking out, Nishizaki noticed the house’s good location—plenty of space between the neighboring homes, a large yard, close to the station, and even a nearby river for walks. It’s a good house in a good spot.

"What do you see?" Nagano asked, leaning over his shoulder.

"Just thinking it’s a nice place," Nishizaki replied.

"Do you like it?"

Admitting it outright felt like losing somehow, so he answered vaguely, "It’s okay."

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Nagano retorted, placing his left hand over Nishizaki’s on the windowsill. Their matching rings gleamed in the light. While Nishizaki didn’t care much for such gestures, Nagano clearly did. The warmth of Nagano’s hand sent a spark through him, a sensation he knew all too well.

Nagano leaned in, pressing his lips to the sweat trailing down Nishizaki’s neck. We’re still visible from outside, Nishizaki thought, stepping back into the room. Nagano followed, pulling him into an embrace between the house’s outdated green plaster walls.

"You’re so damn warm," Nishizaki muttered. Despite Nagano’s complete lack of concern for public displays of affection, his intensity in private could be overwhelming. Knowing this, Nishizaki still kissed him. He really loves kissing.

While kissing, they gradually sank to the floor. Nishizaki thought they might go further, but perhaps hesitated since this wasn’t a place where they could clean up after. Nagano seemed reluctant, only trailing his fingers along Nishizaki’s sides and thighs without making a move forward.

“You always say I’m ‘too much’ whenever I speak my mind,” Nagano muttered suddenly.

“Well, you’re kind of odd, aren’t you? Don’t you realize it?”

“I’m not entirely sure… But I’ve reflected on it a little. Right now, I’m going to say something that might be a bit over the top.”

Nagano’s words came with an exaggerated preface, his expression dead serious.

“This is our sanctuary of love.”

“Sanctuary… sanctuary of love...” Nishizaki repeated the phrase in his head a few times before bursting into laughter.

“Pfft! Wh-what even is a ‘sanctuary of love’?!”

He couldn’t stop laughing. His stomach hurt as he doubled over, clutching it tightly. Nagano, on the other hand, remained resolute. “It’s exactly that. A sanctuary of love.”

That only made Nishizaki laugh harder. He collapsed onto the dusty floor, still laughing so much it made his stomach ache.

When he finally looked up, still catching his breath, Nagano was watching him intently.

“Did I laugh too much?” Nishizaki asked.

Nagano tilted his head slightly. “It irritates me to be laughed at, but I like seeing you laugh.”

When Nishizaki’s face flushed red, Nagano added, brushing a fingertip along his cheek, “I also like the way you look when you’re embarrassed.”

“Let’s always stay close, and live together like this,” Nagano said, cupping Nishizaki’s cheek with his palm. “Here, together.”

Nagano meant every word. He always spoke the truth. Nishizaki could tell there was no hesitation, no pretense in his voice.

Back when Nishizaki had plenty of money, people had surrounded him. But as soon as the wealth dried up, they scattered like spiders, leaving no one behind. Now I know—one is enough. If I have even one person I can trust, I can be happy.

Nishizaki placed his hand over Nagano’s, feeling the warmth and the steady presence of a man who, no matter what, would never let him go. “Yeah,” he said, nodding.

[Three Days Before the Move]

"I have something I want to talk about," Sakamoto said, just as the loud hum of a hairdryer roared through the room.

"What? Did you say something?" his wife, Harumi, asked, glancing back as she dried their daughter Harune’s hair.

"Is it urgent?"

"Not really, just wanted to talk about something."

"Then I’ll finish drying her hair first," Harumi replied.

Hot air from the dryer made Harune’s long hair ripple and wave. Within five minutes, it was dry, and Harumi carefully combed through it. Her daughter’s hair shone, forming a glossy halo like something out of a TV commercial. Harumi hugged her tightly, saying, "Yesterday and today, our little girl is just the cutest!"

To Sakamoto, even his wife looked adorable in that moment.

"Sorry, what did you want to talk about?" Harumi asked at last. Harune sat sideways on her lap, playing with her freshly dried hair.

"This Saturday, Nagano’s moving."

"Oh, right, he bought a house, didn’t he?"

"He didn’t buy it. His father-in-law gave it to him."

Harumi let out a loud, surprised gasp, startling their daughter, who looked up at her mother curiously.

"That’s amazing, but... a house is such a big thing to be given. It’s kind of scary," Harumi said.

"Nagano’s mom remarried a wealthy man. Nagano didn’t want any disputes over inheritance later, so he signed away his claim to his father-in-law’s estate. That’s when he was given the house," Sakamoto explained.

"That’s... quite a story," Harumi said, stroking her daughter’s head.

"Nagano could probably have bought a house himself, though," Harumi added thoughtfully. "He’s a lawyer, after all."

"Apparently, he tried to refuse at first," Sakamoto said. "But then he reconsidered, thinking it might ease his father-in-law’s worries if he accepted. So in the end, he took it."

Harumi sighed, running her hand through her daughter’s hair. "There’s a lot to unpack there."

"So, I’m thinking of getting Nagano a housewarming gift. Any ideas?" Sakamoto asked.

"A gift, huh..." Harumi murmured, hugging her daughter as she thought. "Nagano’s single, right?"

"Well..." Sakamoto began.

"What is it?" Harumi prompted, raising an eyebrow.

"I was thinking of combining it with a wedding gift."

Harumi’s eyes widened. "Nagano’s getting married? To who?"

"Someone you know."

"Really?"

"Tatsuya Nishizaki."

Harumi gasped so loudly that her daughter complained, "Mom, you’re so loud!"

"Sorry, sorry," Harumi said, patting her daughter’s head. "So... that’s how it is..." she murmured, still processing.

"That’s how it is," Sakamoto confirmed.

"Wow, I’m surprised. You four are always hanging out. Did you notice anything about them?"

"Not at all," Sakamoto admitted. "Nishizaki practically moved into Nagano’s apartment, but I thought it was just a roommate situation. Kitao seemed to suspect something, though. He said, ‘I figured,’ when they mentioned it. I just thought they got along well because they lived together."

"I see," Harumi said, exhaling. "It must’ve taken courage for Nagano to confess to an old friend. Things are more open these days, but it’s still not easy. People have all kinds of opinions."

"I agree," Sakamoto replied.

"But," Harumi added, meeting Sakamoto’s eyes, "Nagano probably felt he could tell you because he knew you’d accept it."

"Maybe. Then again, Nagano’s strong. Nishizaki too, but especially Nagano."

"Strong?"

"If anyone tried to discriminate against him for being gay, he’d probably take it to court and sue them for everything they’ve got," Sakamoto said, smirking.

Harumi chuckled. "Double or nothing, huh?"

"Still, it’s kind of a shame. Both Nagano and Nishizaki are really good-looking. You’d think they wouldn’t pair up as two men. Feels like they should share some of that appeal with the ladies," Harumi remarked wistfully.

In the end, they decided on a gift card for Nagano and Nishizaki’s housewarming and wedding present, following Harumi’s suggestion. A gift card, after all, would let them buy whatever they liked. Sakamoto had initially thought about getting a wall clock but hesitated when Harumi asked, “Do you think you could find a wall clock that matches Nishizaki’s incredible sense of style?”

She had a point. Nishizaki had always been stylish—good-looking since their student days and always impeccably dressed. While Sakamoto could see that Nishizaki had great style, he couldn’t pinpoint what made it so. That, he supposed, was what people referred to as “having taste.”

Rather than struggling to develop his own sense of style and risking a mismatch, Sakamoto decided it was easier to leave it to Nishizaki. A gift card would let him pick something that truly suited his taste.

Harumi had said, "Nagano probably shared this with you because he trusted you to accept it." Sakamoto realized that he, too, had shared the news with his wife because he trusted her. Having someone you can trust… marrying someone you can share these things with—it really is a blessing. He thought about how Nagano and Nishizaki, despite their gender differences, probably shared the same fundamental bond that he and Harumi did.

[Two Days Before the Move]

On his way home from a drinking party, Kitao shared a taxi with Tomonaga, a subordinate five years his junior, since they were heading in the same direction. Tomonaga’s stop was closer, meaning Kitao would have another 15 minutes of the ride alone after dropping him off.

"You live pretty close to the office. That’s nice," Kitao commented.

"Do I? I guess," Tomonaga replied with a wry smile, though the reaction puzzled Kitao.

What’s there to be uncomfortable about? Kitao thought. As he got older, he naturally found himself surrounded by younger colleagues. Some of the new hires were more than a decade younger, and the generational gap often felt vast. It started as a small sense of disconnect, but over time, it grew until he found himself struggling to keep up. When it came to smartphones, for instance, he was utterly clueless. He owned one, sure, but only used the bare minimum of its features, which he considered more than enough. I’m speeding down the highway to becoming a full-blown old man.

In the past, he used to attend concerts and outdoor festivals, but when his favorite band broke up, he stopped going entirely. Now, when he thought about his hobbies, What do I even do on my days off?

"Excuse me," Tomonaga said, breaking Kitao’s train of thought as he glanced at his smartphone. It looked like a game, but since they weren’t at work, Kitao didn’t say anything. Still, a small part of him felt irritated. I’m not saying we have to talk just because I’m your boss, but at least show some consideration.

Bored, Kitao turned to look out the window. Something about the area felt familiar. As he stared, the memory clicked into place.

"Ah," he blurted out.

"Huh? What’s up?" Tomonaga asked, looking up from his phone.

"There’s a store… Looks like they’ve opened it," Kitao said.

"A store?"

"A high school friend of mine is opening a café nearby. I’m helping them move in a couple of days."

"A café?" Tomonaga asked, raising his eyebrows slightly. "That sounds nice. I actually enjoy visiting cafés on my days off."

"You do?" Kitao asked, unable to hide his surprise.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Tomonaga shot back.

Kitao hesitated. He doesn’t seem the type, but instead of saying that, he settled for, "It’s just not something you hear often—guys going to cafés alone."

“It’s pretty normal,” Tomonaga replied, turning his attention back to his smartphone. After a moment, he said, “I visit places like this often,” and showed Kitao a series of photos on his screen.

When Tomonaga tapped the screen, a string of café interiors appeared—stylish and immaculate. What’s the appeal of this? Just a log of places he’s been? Kitao wondered, scrolling through the photos until one caught his eye. It was a café he recognized.

“That’s a trendy place,” Tomonaga said. “And the staff there? Super good-looking.”

“One of my friends used to work there,” Kitao replied.

“Seriously?” Tomonaga asked, surprised.

“Yeah. What, is it weird for one of my friends to work at a stylish café?” Kitao teased. “At first, these kinds of places feel overly pretentious and intimidating, but you get used to them.”

“I guess I can see that,” Tomonaga said with a slow nod.

“That friend of mine left, though. Now he’s starting his own café.”

As Tomonaga flipped to the next photo, he saw a familiar face—Nishizaki. The friend he had just been talking about.

“That guy. That’s my friend,” Kitao said, pointing.

“No way,” Tomonaga exclaimed, leaning back as if the information had physically shocked him. “You know Nishizaki-san? Seriously?”

“The world’s small,” Kitao said with a smirk.

“You’re joking, right?” Tomonaga asked incredulously.

“What would be the point of lying about that? We were high school classmates. We still grab meals together sometimes.”

Tomonaga looked between the photo of Nishizaki and Kitao, letting out a small sigh. “...Nishizaki-san’s kind of my idol, you know. He’s cool, talks so well—”

He stopped mid-sentence, suddenly inhaling sharply. His eyes darted nervously from side to side before he hesitantly looked at Kitao. What’s with that look? Like he’s just spotted some rare creature.

“Wait… Is Nishizaki-san’s boyfriend you?” Tomonaga asked timidly.

Kitao let out a soundless laugh through his nose. “Hah?”

“A girl at the café told me. Nishizaki-san is gay, and his boyfriend’s some office worker. Apparently, he’s always sitting at a corner table drinking coffee… and really good-looking—” Tomonaga stopped himself, shaking his head. “Yeah, no. Never mind. Sorry!” He bowed apologetically.

This kid really thought about that for a second before erasing me from consideration as a ‘good-looking boyfriend,’ huh? Kitao thought wryly.

“Nishizaki’s boyfriend isn’t me, and he’s not an office worker. He’s a lawyer,” Kitao clarified.

Tomonaga gasped. “A lawyer? I see… It makes sense. Someone as perfect as Nishizaki-san would have an equally amazing partner,” he said with a resigned sigh.

When they reached Tomonaga’s stop, he got out, but not before asking for the name of Nishizaki’s café. When Kitao admitted he didn’t know, Tomonaga gave him a skeptical look. “Are you sure you’re actually friends?” he asked.

Nishizaki’s been through a lot, Kitao thought as the taxi continued on. He’s had his share of trouble, no doubt. But that’s all in the past now. The frustrations, the whirlwind of emotions—it’s all faded with time.

The usual crew, including Sakamoto, was set to help with Nishizaki and Nagano’s move in two days. Those two sure know how to put people to work, Kitao mused. Not that I mind—I’ve got nothing better to do anyway.

They’d gone from prickly arguments, like hedgehogs bristling against each other, to deciding to build a life together: cohabiting, marrying, getting a house, and starting a café. It was all so grounded, so forward-looking. Kitao couldn’t help but feel a little impressed.

Maybe it’s time for me to settle down too, Kitao thought. But he let out a long sigh, refusing to admit, even to himself, that the thought was spurred by their example.

[The Day Before the Move]

The one-room apartment was lined with stacks of cardboard boxes against the walls. The once-familiar bookshelf was nearly empty, stripped of all but a few items. Over the past month, Nagano had carefully sorted through his belongings, deciding what to keep and what to discard. About half had been thrown out, and the rest were now packed into the boxes.

The sheer number of boxes left little room to walk, forcing Tatsuya Nishizaki to perch on the bed. Thinking about leaving this room tomorrow brought an unexpected pang of sadness.

“Tatsuya,” Nagano called from the kitchen, dressed in his summer sleepwear of a T-shirt and shorts.

“Where’s the toothpaste?”

“Sorry, let me look for it,” Nishizaki replied, standing up instinctively before stopping mid-motion. “Wait, oh no… I might’ve packed it.”

“I figured as much,” Nagano murmured.

Even though he admitted it might be in one of the many boxes, Nishizaki had no idea which one. It wasn’t food, so maybe he’d thrown it in with the dishes? That seemed like his sort of logic.

“Don’t worry about it,” Nagano said, clearly trying to downplay the issue.

“You’re going to brush your teeth without toothpaste?”

“I’ll use salt.”

At first, Nishizaki thought he was joking, but there was no retraction. Peering into the kitchen, he found Nagano sprinkling table salt onto his toothbrush.

Yesterday, Nagano’s mother, Kumiko, had sent over a massive shipment of tomatoes from Nagoya. They were delicious but overwhelmingly plentiful, even after sharing some with Sakamoto and Kitao. Both Nagano and Nishizaki weren’t skilled cooks, so they’d resorted to slicing up several tomatoes and eating them plain. The salt, fortunately, had escaped being packed away thanks to their impromptu tomato feast.

“Doesn’t your mouth hurt?” Nishizaki asked.

“It’s fiiii—gooohh, sort of,” Nagano said through a mouthful of toothbrush, his words muffled and wobbly.

Nagano was usually so serious, his speech precise and deliberate. Hearing him talk like this was oddly charming, softening his usually rigid demeanor.

“Do you feel like it’s actually working, brushing with salt?”

“It’s fiiii—neee,” Nagano replied, his tone still distorted.

“That’s hard to believe.”

“Oh, by the way, Sakamoto’s wife makes homemade ketchup from scratch. Ever had anything like that?”

"Noo—oo."

“Which do you like better, mayonnaise or ketchup?” he asked abruptly.

Nagano paused mid-brush and pulled the toothbrush out of his mouth. “Why are you trying to have a conversation while I’m brushing my teeth?”

“Because you’re cute when you talk all muffled like that,” Nishizaki teased.

Nagano’s brow furrowed in irritation. He rinsed his mouth out with a curt swish. “Stop treating me like a toy.”

“You’re not the type to let anyone treat you like a toy.”

Nagano’s expression turned serious. “I go easy on you, though,” he said flatly.

“Really? You seem pretty strict to me.”

“I’ve realized lately—I give in too easily when you lean on me.”

As if to test this, Nishizaki leaned against Nagano’s back, earning a deeper scowl but no command to move away. Emboldened, he sniffed lightly at Nagano’s neck. He smelled of cheap shampoo and something distinctly Nagano. Comforting.

“This is our last night in this room,” Nishizaki murmured.

“Yeah,” Nagano replied quietly.

“I’ve lived here since I was a student. It feels like it’s a part of me.”

“I like this place too. It’s ridiculously small, though.”

“It holds a lot of memories. This is where we first slept together,” Nagano said matter-of-factly.

“Guh!” Nishizaki let out an involuntary sound. Was this payback for the toothpaste comment? But Nagano’s face remained as neutral as ever.

“Why would you bring that up? It’s embarrassing!”

“We did it yesterday too, didn’t we?”

“That’s not the same thing!”

“Isn’t it the same thing in the end?”

Can someone please teach this man some tact? Nishizaki groaned internally.

"When it comes to the act itself, it’s less about the action and more about the overwhelming tension—it feels like my heart might stop."

Nagano’s words revealed that he understood exactly what his partner was trying to confirm. Grabbing the hand placed on his left chest, Nagano pulled him closer, face-to-face. The hug was intense, almost stifling. It was hot—uncomfortably so—but there was no desire to pull away. Still, it was so hot that I thought the sweat might start pooling where our bodies pressed together.

Reaching out, he placed a hand on Nagano’s chest. Beneath his palm, he felt the steady rhythm of Nagano’s heartbeat: thump, thump.

“Not nervous anymore?” Nishizaki asked.

“It’s just hot.”

“That’s because you’re clinging to me.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Nagano nuzzled his nose against Nishizaki’s neck, a gesture reminiscent of a cat seeking affection. The movement carried a hint of desire, palpable and unmistakable.

“Do you want to?” Nishizaki asked.

“Just once,” Nagano replied.

They had to move tomorrow, so avoiding unnecessary strain made sense. Yet, there was still that undeniable want. The fact that Nagano specified “just once” showed he understood the situation perfectly.

“Alright, fine,” Nishizaki said, granting permission.

Nagano hugged him tightly, whispering, “I love you.” The sudden declaration caught Nishizaki off guard, making his heart skip. After a brief pause, he responded softly, “Yeah, I know.”

Nagano stayed true to his word: once was enough. Yet even after they were finished, he clung to Nishizaki, as if reluctant to part. It was always like this after sex—Nagano never wanted to let go.

Sex felt good, but Nishizaki cherished the quiet moments afterward even more—the warmth of being tangled together, sharing silence and space. With anyone else, the spell would break once the desire was sated, and he’d instinctively pull away. But with Nagano, the closeness that followed was better than the act itself. Even the faintest touch made him want to linger, as though the connection they shared in those moments was something he never wanted to let go of.

Sometimes, Nagano’s clinginess kept Nishizaki from falling asleep. Worse, Nagano would nod off first, leaving Nishizaki to handle the cleanup. It was frustrating, but even then, Nishizaki couldn’t help but smile, comparing him to a child who’d fallen asleep after playing too hard. It made Nishizaki realize just how deeply he’d fallen for him.

The bed was narrow, so they had no choice but to sleep on their sides. Feeling Nagano’s warmth pressed against his back, Nishizaki stared at the cardboard boxes piled against the wall. This is really the last night we’ll spend here, he thought. Tomorrow, they’d move to their new home.

The new bedroom on the second floor would have just one bed, but it was large and spacious. It would undoubtedly be more comfortable, yet the thought of losing the closeness this cramped bed had forced on them left him feeling wistful. Even the sight of the walls here—cramped and worn—felt strangely precious now.

Before he realized it, a tear slipped down his cheek. A few years ago, he had come to this place broken in both body and spirit, unable to imagine any kind of future. But with Nagano by his side, bit by bit, light had started to seep back into his life.

Now, he had someone he loved, someone he had even married. He had people he could rely on if things went wrong. He had a house, a job he enjoyed, and a sense of purpose. It was a life he could never have envisioned back in his school days. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t bad. It was even fun. And yet, the tears wouldn’t stop.

This tiny, crappy apartment had somehow become a place he was nostalgic enough to cry over as he left it.

As he lay there, Nagano’s hand, resting casually on his stomach, began to move. It slid down, brushing against his pubic hair, and then touched him gently. Seriously? Lost in sentimental thoughts, Nishizaki snapped back to reality, the mood shattered by Nagano’s poorly timed mischief. The man truly cannot read a room.

"My body isn't your toy," Nishizaki muttered.

"Did you finish earlier?" Nagano asked, his warm hand wrapping gently but firmly around a sensitive spot. The slight pressure made Nishizaki’s hips tremble involuntarily.

"...Yeah, I did."

"I was too caught up to check. It’s unfair if I’m the only one who finishes," Nagano replied.

This guy seriously has no sense of how to choose his words.

"Want me to teach you how to say it in a way that hits the mark? In moments like this, instead of saying ‘unfair,’ you should just say, ‘I want to touch you.’"

"I want to touch you," Nagano said immediately, making Nishizaki chuckle.

"Too late. You’re already touching me."

"I want to touch Tatsuya Nishizaki’s penis."

"What the hell? Now you’re going for verbal teasing? Bold move. But if you get too specific, it just ruins the mood."

"It’s hard," Nagano admitted, even as his hand stayed exactly where it was. The gentle yet persistent pressure continued, coaxing a response as pleasure began to stir and grow under Nagano’s touch.

"Earlier..." Nagano whispered softly in Nishizaki’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

"I saw you come," Nagano added suddenly.

"What?" Nishizaki felt his body tense.

"But I still wanted to touch you, so I lied," Nagano confessed, his words laced with mischief.

A sharp jolt ran through Nishizaki’s body. Damn it. That’s... adorable. The mixture of excitement and affection sent heat pooling in his lower body, building quickly toward release.

"I’m... about to..." he managed to gasp.

Nagano’s palm enclosed him completely, and with one final surge, Nishizaki let go, spilling himself into Nagano’s hand. It wasn’t much—being the second round—but it left him breathless nonetheless.

Nishizaki turned to face Nagano. When they went to sleep, they always left the entryway light on, so the room was never completely dark. The faint glow from the light allowed him to make out the surroundings, and once his eyes adjusted, he could even see Nagano’s expression.

He gazed at Nagano’s face, his lips slightly parted. You’re so cute. Everything about him—how he acted like a purring cat when he let his guard down, how he clung so affectionately once drawn in, even his unconvincing lies and how quickly he admitted to them—was endearing. Staring at him now, Nishizaki felt an overwhelming desire. I want to kiss you so badly right now.

“I want to kiss you,” Nagano said, voicing the thought himself. Without hesitation, Nishizaki leaned in and embraced him, their lips meeting. What began as a simple goodnight kiss soon shifted as Nagano took the lead, making it something much more intense. The kiss grew so heated that Nishizaki’s body began to react again, a familiar stirring making itself known.

“Your mouth tastes salty.” Nishizaki asked, slightly breathless.

“And yours is sweet,” Nagano replied.

What is this simple, unassuming happiness? Nishizaki wondered as warmth filled his chest. The love he felt for Nagano seemed endless, like it could overflow at any moment. He didn’t realize he was crying until Nagano’s fingers brushed gently at the corner of his eye.

“Are you crying?” Nagano asked.

“Yeah, I cry when I’m happy,” Nishizaki admitted.

“I get it,” Nagano said softly. Whether he truly understood or not didn’t matter; the words were enough. As if to capture those tears of joy, Nagano leaned in and kissed them away, his lips soft and gentle against Nishizaki’s skin.

[Moving Day]

Nagano woke to the loud banging of fists on the front door. Startled, he bolted upright. Next to him, Nishizaki, still completely naked, let out a soft groan of protest.

“I was told to come at 8:30…” Kitao’s voice called from the other side of the door. Panicking, Nagano grabbed his smartphone from the bedside table. 8:32… we overslept.

“I thought it was 9:00,” came Sakamoto’s voice.

Nagano froze. We asked them to help us, and we’re the ones oversleeping? He climbed over Nishizaki and got out of bed—only to realize he was just as naked. Frantically, he searched for his underwear but couldn’t find it. With no other choice, he threw on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts without undergarments and rushed to the door.

“I checked the group chat. It’s definitely 8:30. Should I call them?” Sakamoto’s voice continued outside.

Nagano yanked open the door.

“There you are! Morning!” Kitao greeted him cheerfully.

Both Kitao and Sakamoto were dressed for the job, in T-shirts, jeans or joggers, with towels around their necks and gloves in hand—the perfect moving crew.

“…Sorry, I overslept,” Nagano admitted sheepishly.

Sakamoto chuckled. “I had a feeling that might happen.”

“The boxes are packed,” Nagano added quickly.

“Well then, let’s get started!” Kitao moved to step inside the apartment, but Nagano grabbed his arm to stop him.

“W-wait…”

“What? The boxes are ready, right? Let’s get them out, and for the furniture—”

Kitao paused and said, “Oh, right. We should take the stuff that isn’t in good shape to the recycling shop, remember?”

“Yeah... that’s the plan, but… just wait here. Five minutes! Please!” Nagano pleaded.

Kitao frowned in irritation but relented. Nagano hurried back into the room. Despite the commotion, Nishizaki was still asleep, sprawled out on the bed.

“Hey, wake up!” Nagano crouched by the bed, gripping Nishizaki’s pale, slender shoulder and shaking him gently. Finally, Nishizaki’s eyes fluttered open, bleary with sleep.

“It’s time. Come on,” Nagano urged.

“Too sleepy…” Nishizaki mumbled, shaking his head like a stubborn child.

“Please, I’m begging you…” Nagano groaned. Nishizaki’s face, half-buried in the sheets, turned up to look at him with drowsy eyes.

“I’ll get up if you kiss me,” Nishizaki murmured.

For a moment, Nagano was tempted to push him back into the bed right then and there, but he couldn’t afford to lose more time. He gave a light kiss on Nishizaki’s temple.

“A proper kiss,” Nishizaki demanded, pouting slightly. Nagano sighed.

“No way. Kitao and Sakamoto are already here.”

“...What?!”

The drowsiness vanished from Nishizaki’s face as his eyes flew open.

“What time is it!?”

“It’s past 8:30.”

“Crap!” Nishizaki shot upright. “Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

“That’s what I’m doing now!” Nagano snapped as Nishizaki scrambled out of bed.

“I haven’t even washed my face!” Nishizaki cried, bolting from the bedroom completely naked before Nagano could stop him.

From the direction of the kitchen, two overlapping screams erupted: “Whaaaa!” and “What the hell?!”

Nagano buried his face in his hands.

For the next year, every time Nagano saw Kitao, he was met with endless jabs about that morning. “Seriously, that day… I thought I’d die of secondhand embarrassment,” Kitao would say with a sigh, over and over again.

THE END

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