Goodnight, See You Tomorrow: Chapter 9

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"This is the author, Tsugumi Itou-sensei, and his friend, Kouya-kun. Tsugumin is an amazing novelist, and I’ve been a huge fan of his for a long time. So, with that said, everyone—"

Komine-sensei swept his gaze over the group. The boys at the table immediately stiffened.

"Bring your A-game and liven things up!"

At Komine-sensei’s sudden shift to a deep, commanding voice, the boys let out a collective "Ohhh!" and raised their glasses. After clinking them together, the tension dissipated, and the table burst into a lively and chaotic cacophony of chatter and laughter. 

"So, Itou-sensei, you're a novelist? I'll be heading to the bookstore tomorrow!" one of the young men exclaimed.

"How did you and Komine-sensei, the manga artist, meet?" another chimed in.

Surrounded by the eager questions of the younger men, Tsugumi shrank back, overwhelmed and barely able to respond.

This was Shinjuku Ni-chome, at a gay bar Komine-sensei frequented. Earlier, they’d held a meeting with their editors, Nakanishi and Kudou, to discuss work. Afterward, the gathering had naturally transitioned into dinner.

Tsugumi had hesitated, as he’d already planned to have dinner with Sakutaro. But when Komine-sensei suggested bringing Sakutaro along, Tsugumi agreed. With anyone else, he might have declined, but Komine-sensei was different. What began as a professional connection had grown into a genuine friendship, thanks to casual post-meeting chats.

“You’re on my side, aren’t you, Itou-san?”

Komine-sensei had asked the question bluntly, referring, of course, to their shared sexual orientation.

“You can tell by looking at me, can’t you? I’m the same. So let’s talk openly.”

With an affectionate tilt of his head, Komine-sensei had extended a camaraderie that felt like connecting to a Wi-Fi network. He was the first fellow writer Tsugumi had met who shared both his orientation and his generation, someone who could discuss the craft seriously. The only downside? Being called "Tsugumin" was a bit much.

"Sakutaro-san, sorry this is running so late. Do you think you’ll be okay for work tomorrow?"

Tsugumi leaned toward the man seated beside him and spoke in a low voice. After their enjoyable dinner had ended, Komine-sensei, now tipsy and lively from wine, had dragged them to another bar.

"I’ll be fine. Komine-sensei is fun to be around."

Their whispered conversation didn’t go unnoticed.

"Ah! The two of you are getting cozy over there. No sneaky flirting!" Komine-sensei declared, his sharp eyes catching them.

"We’re not flirting!" Tsugumi protested.

"But you and Kouya-kun have such chemistry. Could it be… you two are an item?"

"We’re not!" Tsugumi blurted, shaking his head furiously. Komine-sensei, however, pouted dramatically.

"Ugh, Tsugumin, you’re so lucky. As an author, you’re adored by your editor, and as a man, you’ve got a young, handsome guy by your side. Meanwhile, I’m not loved by anyone!"

"Komine-sensei, you’re adored by millions of readers around the world," Nakanishi quickly interjected with the practiced poise of an editor.

"I don’t want love from the masses. I want someone to love just me!" Komine-sensei sulked as the boys at the table scrambled to console him.

"Oh, speaking of love—or the lack thereof," one of the boys cut in, steering the conversation in a new direction.

"The other day, after our shift, I ended up at this bar and sat next to a guy who’d just broken up with his partner of ten years. The reason for the breakup was insane."

"What happened?" another chimed in, urging him to elaborate.

"Apparently, he suddenly decided he wanted kids. And, yeah, he was gay."

The statement landed like a jolt. Tsugumi froze, his hand halting mid-lift with his glass. He glanced at Sakutaro, whose expression had also hardened, as though he recognized the story.

"Huh? What the hell is that?" Komine-sensei said, intrigued. "A guy like that doesn’t deserve to call himself gay."

The conversation churned on, but Tsugumi’s mind drifted, his heart heavy with the weight of Sakutaro’s silence.

"Ah, but wasn’t that the same reason Tsugumin and his ex broke up?" Komine-sensei said, his voice light but biting. "I mean, sure, I can understand wanting your own kids to some extent, but if you’re gay, isn’t that one of those things you have to come to terms with and let go of? Adoption aside, if you can’t make peace with that, you shouldn’t call yourself gay. It just causes trouble for everyone around you."

Everyone, including Tsugumi, nodded in solemn agreement.

"But here’s the kicker," the young man continued, leaning in for dramatic effect. "This guy broke up with his boyfriend of ten years because he wanted kids, right? Then, after he got engaged to a woman, he found out he couldn’t even have children."

"You mean—he was sterile?" someone asked, bluntly.

"Exactly," the storyteller confirmed.

The group fell silent for a beat before erupting into laughter. Words like "serves him right" and "no sympathy" flew around the table. Tsugumi, however, couldn’t lift his head. Stories like this were a dime a dozen in the world, and there was no guarantee it was his ex they were talking about. Still, a maelstrom of emotions churned within him, leaving him unable to face anyone.

"But apparently," the young man pressed on, "he deeply regretted it. Said he shouldn’t have broken up with his boyfriend. It wasn’t like they ended things because they hated each other. He wishes he could take it all back."

"What a load of crap!" Komine-sensei snapped, his tone suddenly harsh. "That kind of selfish guy should just drop dead!"

One of the boys leaned in to whisper to Tsugumi with a laugh, "Komine-sensei’s sweetness flies out the window when he’s drunk."

"Do you think you can just toss around someone’s heart like that?" Komine-sensei continued, slamming his hand on the table. "That poor guy who got dumped better not forgive him. Make him grovel and stomp on his head. Don’t you think so, Tsugumin?"

Suddenly called upon, Tsugumi looked up, startled. "Ah, yeah, maybe," he replied vaguely, nodding.

As the conversation continued, the bar door opened, and the staff called out their customary, "Welcome!" One of the young men stood to greet the newcomer.

"Oh, hey, Itou-san! Thanks for coming the other day. And you’re back already!"

A deep thud resonated in Tsugumi’s chest, his heart pounding as if struck.

"Well, you gave me your card," came a familiar voice.

Shinjin Itou.

"That’s so great! Thanks. Here, have a seat," the young man said, leading him toward their table. Tsugumi kept his head down, desperately trying not to be noticed, but—

"…Tsugumi?"

His name, spoken so casually, shot a sharp pain through his stomach. Slowly, reluctantly, he looked up.

"Ah, I thought it was you," Shinjin said, smiling. "What a coincidence. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a place like this. What brings you here?"

"Tsugumin, is he a friend of yours?" Komine-sensei asked, drawing the attention of the table. Left with no choice, Tsugumi nodded stiffly.

"Well, since you’re here, why not join us? Drinks are always more fun with more people," Komine-sensei offered, his mood buoyant from the wine and champagne. He cheerfully made space for another chair, gesturing for Shinjin to sit.

"Sure, I’d love to join," Shinjin said politely, sliding into the spot with an easy smile.

"Long time no see, Nakanishi-san," Shinjin greeted Tsugumi’s editor, bowing slightly. Nakanishi, who had worked with Tsugumi since his debut, had met Shinjin numerous times at dinners and gatherings in the past.

"Yeah, it’s been a while. You look well," Nakanishi replied, his tone awkward and his words carefully measured. Given the recent conversation, it was obvious he had pieced together that Shinjin was the subject of the story.

Sakutaro, seated nearby, maintained a composed but clearly strained smile.

"You know Nakanishi-san too? So, Itou-san," Komine-sensei interjected, leaning forward, "does that mean you’re in publishing? But you don’t seem like an editor. You’ve got that crisp, polished look—like someone from a major publishing house’s sales department. Am I right?"

Shinjin chuckled at Komine-sensei’s curiosity. "You’re half right," he said with a practiced charm.

"I'm in sales, but not in the publishing industry," Shinjin replied, smoothly pulling a business card case from his jacket pocket and offering a card with practiced elegance.

"Oh, I've heard of this company! Is it famous?" Komine-sensei asked, his tone light and curious.

Shinjin smiled faintly, his polished demeanor suggesting the quiet confidence of someone accustomed to his elite status. Komine-sensei, having debuted as a manga artist while still in high school and never worked in a traditional job, was often endearingly out of touch with certain worldly matters.

"Are you an old friend of Tsugumin’s, Itou-san?" Komine-sensei asked, turning his sharp gaze on Shinjin.

"Yes, something like that," Shinjin replied with a polite but vague smile.

Komine-sensei tilted his head, intrigued. "Wait a second. Tsugumin’s pen name is ‘Itou,’ and your name is also Itou. Hmm?"

His head tilted further as his eyes sparkled with sudden realization. The instincts of a romance mangaka—sharp as a hawk spotting prey—kicked in. He looked between Shinjin and Tsugumi with increasing excitement.

"I get it! Itou-san, you’re Tsugumin’s ex, aren’t you? I’m right, aren’t I?"

"Well..." Shinjin admitted with a slight nod, prompting Komine-sensei to clap his hands in triumph. His victorious grin quickly faded into a suspicious frown, though. His brow furrowed as he pieced something together.

"But wait. Tsugumin’s pen name is ‘Itou.’ And Itou-san here is the ex. And Tsugumin broke up with his ex of ten years. And Tsugumin debuted around, let’s see..."

Komine-sensei counted on his fingers, his face suddenly darkening with realization. His voice dropped.

"You’re the guy who doesn’t deserve to call himself gay!"

Shinjin blinked, startled. "Excuse me? What?"

"Don’t play dumb with me!" Komine-sensei shot back, his tone sharp. "Being in a gay relationship and then suddenly deciding you want kids? That’s like holding a knife to your partner’s throat!"

"Komine-sensei, please stop," Tsugumi interjected hastily. But Komine-sensei was on a roll.

"You might as well say, ‘Go be reborn as a woman and try again.’ It’s like telling someone to drop dead! Do you even realize how devastating it is to hear that from someone you’ve been with for ten years? And now you want to get back together? With what nerve?"

"That’s enough, Sensei," Kudou intervened, covering Komine-sensei’s mouth with his hand and physically pulling him back. Komine-sensei flailed, clearly unsatisfied, but Kudou held him in place and bowed apologetically to Shinjin.

"I’m really sorry. We didn’t know the situation before inviting you."

Shinjin exhaled and stood, smoothing his jacket. "No, I should apologize for ruining the mood. I’ll take my leave now."

He walked toward the exit without looking back. Tsugumi, who had been staring at the table the entire time, wasn’t sure if Shinjin had glanced at him or not. The tense atmosphere left everyone silent until Sakutaro, who had been quiet the whole time, abruptly stood and followed Shinjin out.

"Sakutaro-san?" Tsugumi called after him, but he didn’t respond, his strides quick and purposeful.

Komine-sensei broke the silence. "He’s gone to punch him, hasn’t he?"

"Of course not!" Tsugumi protested, though worry twisted in his chest. Sakutaro wasn’t the type to resort to violence, but the possibility gnawed at him. He stood, excusing himself, and hurried outside.

Climbing the stairs to the street, Tsugumi scanned the area. He froze when he heard Sakutaro’s voice from a nearby alley.

"Do you still love Tsugumi-san?"

Peering into the narrow space, Tsugumi saw the two men facing each other. Sakutaro’s back was to him, his expression hidden.

"Are you and Tsugumi...?" Shinjin asked.

"We're friends," Sakutaro answered clearly. "Close friends. That's why I need to ask—do you still love Tsugumi-san?"

A brief silence followed.

"To be honest, I regret breaking up," Shinjin murmured. "After we split, a lot happened on my end too. I know it might sound convenient for me, but if Tsugumi forgives me, I want to try again."

"Try again?"

The scrape of a shoe against the pavement was followed by Sakutaro stepping closer.

"Do you have any idea how much pain Tsugumi went through because of you?"

"I do," Shinjin said quietly.

"No, you don't," Sakutaro shot back, his voice rising. "You don't understand at all. If you did, you wouldn't be saying something as simple as wanting to get back together. You have no clue what Tsugumi went through after you left."

"......"

"Breaking up might have been inevitable. People have their own feelings, and I get that. But to put someone through that kind of pain, and then come back saying you want another chance just because it suits you—don't you think that's unbelievably selfish?"

Sakutaro’s words cut off sharply, his clenched fists trembling.

He's gone to punch him, Komine-sensei’s words echoed in Tsugumi's mind, and the next moment, Sakutaro slammed Shinjin against the wall of a nearby building.

"If you want to try again with Tsugumi-san, promise me this—never let him go again," Sakutaro demanded.

"What are you—"

"Promise me! Swear that you’ll never, ever leave him again. If you can’t, then I won’t let you near him."

There was a pause, thick with tension.

"Do you... love Tsugumi?" Shinjin asked hesitantly.

"I’m Tsugumi-san’s friend," Sakutaro replied, his voice firm.

"But—"

"I’m his friend," Sakutaro repeated, with finality.

Tsugumi couldn’t bear to watch any longer. Quietly, he stepped away from the scene, his heart pounding in his chest.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

When he returned to the bar, everyone asked how it went. He simply answered, "I couldn't find him," and made an excuse about drinking too much to leave early. Komine-sensei, who saw him off at the door, apologized for meddling. He shook his head, replying, “It’s fine.”

“I’m terrible when I’ve been drinking. Really, I’m sorry.”

“No, thank you for getting angry on my behalf.”

Both of them, a bit tipsy, hugged like overly sensitive middle school girls before parting ways.

Later, he picked a regular bar—not in Ni-chome—and stepped inside. The drinks weren’t strong, but he had already passed his limit back at dinner. Tonight, though, he wanted to get even drunker. There was something he needed the courage to ask Sakutaro.

By the time he returned to his apartment, he was staggering. Everything felt dull, like he was wrapped in a thick layer of water. He went around to the back of the building and knocked on the service door. No answer, but light spilled out through the window. Persistently knocking, he finally heard the door open quietly from the inside.

“…Sakutaro-san.”

Tsugumi pushed his way in, leaning against Sakutaro.

“Tsugumi-san, are you drunk?”

“Pretty much.”

“I’m sorry for leaving partway through. Did it ruin the mood for everyone?”

“I don’t know,” he replied carelessly. It didn’t matter. Resting his forehead on Sakutaro’s shoulder, he leaned into him, seeking comfort.

“Can you walk to your room? Should I help you?”

Sakutaro’s hand patted his back gently, trying to soothe him. Tsugumi wriggled, resisting the touch like a child refusing to be consoled.

“…Why?”

“Hm?”

"Why did you say that to Shinjin?" Tsugumi murmured, slurring slightly as he leaned his forehead against Sakutaro's shoulder. The soft but deliberate accusation seemed to fill the quiet space of the entryway.

Sakutaro paused, his hand, which had been patting Tsugumi’s back in a comforting rhythm, coming to a stop. “You saw that?” he asked gently.

Instead of answering, Tsugumi pressed his forehead harder against Sakutaro’s shoulder, his words spilling out in frustration. “Who said I wanted to get back with him? Why would you say something like that?”

His voice cracked slightly as he repeatedly knocked his head against Sakutaro’s shoulder. With each impact, his intoxication seemed to intensify, his thoughts becoming a tangled knot of feelings too dense to untangle in this state.

"My feelings... they’re not like that,” Tsugumi muttered, his voice heavy with both drunkenness and emotion. His thoughts flickered to earlier in the evening, to the moment when Komine-sensei had lashed out at Shinjin, voicing frustrations Tsugumi hadn’t dared to express himself. The truth Komine-sensei shouted had left Tsugumi with a strange mix of satisfaction and guilt.

Shinjin was overbearing at times, but he wasn’t malicious. Forgiving everything wasn’t possible, but they had shared so much over the years. Knowing about his current struggles, Tsugumi couldn’t help but wonder if there was something he could do. Still, rekindling a romantic relationship wasn’t the answer.

The clarity of his own thoughts surprised him. There had been a time when he couldn’t have thought this rationally. Back then, no matter how much he pretended otherwise, the idea of being alone had terrified him. If Shinjin had asked to try again, he might have said yes without hesitation. But now, it was different.

Living alone was still scary, but more than anything, he wanted to protect Sakutaro.

"You don’t need me, Sakutaro-san?” The question slipped out before Tsugumi could stop it, his voice muffled against Sakutaro’s shoulder. It wasn’t just the alcohol that emboldened him—it was the weight of everything left unspoken between them.

“I did it for your sake,” Sakutaro began, his voice strained, “I asked him to promise me. He said he’d never make the same mistake again, that he’d take care of you this time…”

"Shinjin doesn’t matter," Tsugumi interrupted, lifting his head sharply to meet Sakutaro’s gaze. “I’m asking about your feelings.”

Somewhere in the fog of his mind, a quieter, steadier voice told Tsugumi to stop. Don’t push this any further. If you keep going, you’ll lose the fragile friendship you have left. Don’t ruin it. But the intoxicated, desperate part of him pushed on.

“…For me…” Sakutaro’s voice faltered, as if the words were caught in his throat. “I can’t... for me, Tugumi-san is… too much.”

It felt as though the floor had dropped out from under him. Tsugumi’s breath caught, and he lifted his face to look directly at Sakutaro. At this close distance, he could see the pained expression twisting Sakutaro’s features. The words ‘too much’ echoed in Tsugumi’s mind, reverberating like a cruel refrain.

Too much. The words seemed to crush something fragile inside him.

"Because I love you, it feels too much," Sakutaro corrected himself.

"I don’t know what’s going to happen to me," he continued, his voice thick with frustration. "Whether things will stay the same or get worse, I live every day consumed by anxiety. Someone like me... I can’t protect you, Tsugumi."

"I don’t want you to protect me," Tsugumi shot back.

"I know that," Sakutaro said, his voice tightening. "But that only makes it worse. I hate myself for not being able to protect someone I love. For only ever taking kindness and giving nothing in return." His face twisted in anguish. "I keep taking and taking, and I can’t hold onto anything more."

Tsugumi stood there, stunned.

"Then I won’t be kind anymore," he said, looking up at Sakutaro.

"I won’t be kind anymore," he repeated and reached out, wrapping his arms around Sakutaro's neck. Slowly, deliberately, he brought his face closer.

"Tsugumi-san—" Sakutaro began, only to be silenced by a kiss. Startled, he tried to push Tsugumi away, but Tsugumi clung to him with desperate strength. As they struggled, silent tears welled up in Tsugumi's eyes.

"...Sakutaro," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Please."

At that, Sakutaro's resistance faltered, his hands dropping away, and in the next moment, he was pulling Tsugumi into an embrace. His lips pressed against Tsugumi's with an urgency that felt like it might devour them both. Breath became ragged, desperate as hands slid under Tsugumi's shirt, roaming over his skin. This wasn't the gentle Sakutaro Tsugumi knew. Against the wall, they collapsed, sinking together in a heady, euphoric freefall that blurred the boundaries between pain and happiness.

"I love you, Sakutaro," Tsugumi murmured against his lips.

Sakutaro froze. The passion vanished from him like a flame suddenly extinguished. Slowly, he pulled back, his movements hesitant and full of reluctance. When Tsugumi instinctively grabbed his shirt to hold him close.

"Why?"

"I’m sorry."

"You don’t need to apologize," Tsugumi pleaded. "Just tell me why."

"I’m sorry," Sakutaro said again, his head bowed as though trying to escape the weight of his own words. His hands gripped his wrists tightly, his knuckles white with the tension.

"...Please don’t come to my room anymore," he said, his back already turned.

Tsugumi waited, hoping Sakutaro might turn around, might say something more. But he didn’t. Slowly, numbly, Tsugumi pushed himself to his feet and left the room.

The alcohol had completely worn off, replaced by a sharp clarity that pierced through the cold December air. He shivered, his body jolting at the chill, and walked toward the front yard. There, in the dim light of the night, the white sasanquas stood out softly against the darkness. As he stared blankly at the flowers, a single petal drifted to the ground.

Camellias drop whole blooms, but sasanqua scatter their petals one by one. That’s how you tell them apart.

He thought absently, I should tell Sakutaro about that next time.

But then it hit him—there wouldn’t be a "next time."

“I keep taking and taking, and I can’t hold onto anything more.”

The words echoed in his mind, and Tsugumi realized something with bitter finality. I never wanted to become a burden to Sakutaro. And now I can’t stay by his side anymore.

Leaning closer to the sasanqua, Tsugumi inhaled the sweet fragrance, closing his eyes. He could almost feel the gentle warmth of Sakutaro’s fingers, wiping the pollen off his nose, the tenderness of that touch.

I’ll leave this apartment.

The thought bloomed in his mind with the bittersweetness of the flower’s scent. It was time to hold onto this resolve, as fragile as it felt, and let go.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The day of the move was as bright and sunny as the day Tsugumi had arrived.

"I’ll miss you. Come visit us sometime. If you get tired of the new place, come back anytime."

Though Tsugumi had only lived there for a little over half a year, the warm words of everyone at the apartment filled him with gratitude.

If it were possible, he would have stayed forever. It wasn’t just because of Sakutaro’s presence—the chaotic and lively atmosphere of the apartment had been a lifeline during Tsugumi’s loneliest days.

The movers had already taken most of his belongings in their truck, leaving Tsugumi to follow by train. Unlike when he first arrived, Sakutaro didn’t offer to help with the move. How kind of him. Once Sakutaro decided to stay uninvolved, he was careful not to stir any lingering attachments by taking action.

"Take care, Tsugumi-san. Be happy," Sakutaro said, his eyes soft with a small smile.

Tsugumi had lied to him, saying he was getting back together with Shinjin. After much deliberation, it seemed like the best way to reassure Sakutaro.

"Geez, Saku-chan, you sound like a dad marrying off his daughter," Ellie teased.

"That’s pretty much how I feel," Sakutaro joked back.

Everyone laughed. The conversation dwindled, leaving nothing more to say.

"…Well, then," Tsugumi said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," Sakutaro replied simply.

And just like that, Tsugumi walked out the gate. As he made his way toward the station, he glanced back and saw everyone waving. Sakutaro was standing in the middle.

Why does my vision keep blurring? He wanted to see this final view of them all more clearly, to burn it into his memory. He started to wipe his eyes but stopped. If I wipe my eyes, they’ll know I’m crying.

Instead, he raised a small hand in return, then turned forward and walked steadily toward the station.

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