That Person: Chapter 14

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High School Reunion

The high school reunion took place during Golden Week, six years after Satoshi Yoshimoto had started working. The invitation had arrived in February, forwarded from his parents’ house. He had glanced at the postcard briefly, checked the "Not Attending" box, and left it on a pile of books. A week later, while having dinner, his partner, Takashi Mikasa, casually asked, "Hey, did you get an invitation for the reunion?"

"Oh, yeah, I think I did," Yoshimoto replied while eating Mikasa's bland curry. They had been living together for six years, but Mikasa's cooking had shown no signs of improvement. At first, Yoshimoto used to complain, but over time, his taste buds had simply adapted. Bland was still bland, but at least it was edible. Their weekly cooking rotation had Yoshimoto mostly preparing meals, while Mikasa split his duties between cooking and buying takeout.

"Ten years since graduation—it’s crazy how time flies. I wonder if Kadowaki will come," Mikasa mused, sounding excited. Yoshimoto, sipping overly strong green tea, felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Well, he’s in Kobe."

"Maybe I’ll give him a call. It’s Golden Week, so he might come back here."

"I’m not going," Yoshimoto stated firmly. He wanted to nip this in the bud. Mikasa’s reaction—an incredulous "What?!"—made it clear he hadn’t even considered the possibility of Yoshimoto skipping the event. A stray grain of rice on Mikasa’s cheek made the scene even more ridiculous.

"Why not? It’s not every day you get to see everyone from class again."

"I don’t care. I’m not going. If you want to go, go by yourself."

Despite Yoshimoto’s adamant refusal, Mikasa begged him to come every chance he got, whining "Come on, let’s go!" at every opportunity. Even snapping at him didn’t help; Mikasa was unrelentingly persistent. Like a snake that wouldn’t let go, Mikasa wore Yoshimoto down by the fifth day. Reluctantly, Yoshimoto crossed out his "Not Attending" mark on the postcard, checked the "Attending" box, and mailed it off.

Before agreeing to attend, Yoshimoto made Mikasa promise two things:

1. “Don’t tell anyone you’re my boyfriend.”
2. “Don’t give anyone our address, no matter who asks.”

Mikasa readily agreed with a carefree "Sure," but Yoshimoto remained anxious. Mikasa had no sense of shame or caution about their relationship as two men, and Yoshimoto wasn’t sure how well he’d stick to his promises.

On the day of the reunion, Yoshimoto and Mikasa met up with Kadowaki in the hotel lobby. Kadowaki, like Yoshimoto, had graduated from the same university. After a brief stint as a salaryman, he had pursued a graduate degree at a university in Kobe. This year, he had completed his doctorate and become an assistant professor. They spoke on the phone occasionally, but it had been two years since they last met in person.

The three entered the venue just before six and were surprised to see how many people had shown up. Kadowaki, dressed in a light gray suit with a deep green tie, exuded a calm, scholarly air—completely opposite to the childlike exuberance of Mikasa, who wore a polo shirt and jeans. Yoshimoto had agonized over what to wear and finally settled on neatly tailored cotton trousers, a fitted checkered shirt, and a jacket—a balance between formal and casual.

"Everyone's aged, huh," Mikasa said cheerfully, glancing around the room with restless enthusiasm.

"Come to think of it, it’s been a while since we’ve all seen each other," Mikasa added.

Kadowaki smiled and replied, "Yeah, it has." Yoshimoto, watching the exchange, thought once again about why, eight years ago, he had fallen for someone like Mikasa instead of someone as intelligent and composed as Kadowaki.

"You’re teaching students now, right, Kadowaki?" Mikasa asked.

Kadowaki tilted his head slightly. "It’s more like assisting the professor with instruction rather than teaching outright."

"I see. Teaching people is tough, isn’t it? I sometimes have to train subordinates at work, and it’s hard to do it well," Mikasa said, nodding knowingly.

Yoshimoto thought to himself, Your kind of training and Kadowaki’s kind of instruction are worlds apart, but he kept the thought to himself.

"It’s true that teaching can be difficult," Kadowaki continued, "but I enjoy working with the students. Oh, that reminds me—our professor is publishing a book next month. It’s an introduction to mathematics. It’s not as rigid as a technical textbook; it’s written in an engaging way, almost like a story. I’ll send you a copy if you’re interested."

"Your professor? You mean your boss?" Mikasa asked. The phrasing seemed to amuse Kadowaki, who chuckled.

"Yeah, you could call him my boss."

Yoshimoto recalled the time Kadowaki had come out to him, confessing that the professor was not only his mentor but also his boyfriend. A serious man by nature, Kadowaki had chosen to come out early, a decision that led to estrangement from his parents. During Kadowaki’s first year in Kobe, Yoshimoto had been puzzled when he said he wouldn’t return home for New Year’s. When pressed for an explanation, Kadowaki had confessed his situation matter-of-factly. Despite the obvious struggles and heartbreak he must have faced, Kadowaki had never let it show.

"Yoshimoto, you’ve lost weight, haven’t you?" Kadowaki asked suddenly. Startled, Yoshimoto instinctively replied, "Not really."

Mikasa, however, butted in. "I thought so too! He has lost weight. When he’s dealing with a big project at work, he gets stressed, stops eating, and shrinks like a deflated balloon."

This was one of the things about Mikasa that drove Yoshimoto crazy: his tendency to ramble about unnecessary details. After years together, Mikasa still didn’t truly understand him—or perhaps Yoshimoto had given up on being understood. Annoyed, Yoshimoto decided to shut Mikasa out, responding only to Kadowaki and refusing to engage further. Mikasa seemed to sense the shift in mood and eventually quieted down. When a classmate called out to him, he seized the opportunity to slip away.

Kadowaki, too, was approached by other classmates. Not wanting to impose, Yoshimoto decided to wander around the venue. He recognized many faces but struggled to remember names, a reminder of the ten years that had passed. Overwhelmed by the heat and energy of the room, Yoshimoto eventually retreated to a chair by the wall, feeling lightheaded. He had lost track of both Mikasa and Kadowaki.

A man approached from the front. At first, Yoshimoto didn’t recognize him. But when the man called out, "Yoshimoto," in a familiar intonation, the memory came rushing back. It was Yuguchi, a classmate from their first year of high school. Yoshimoto was so overcome by nostalgia that he couldn’t find the words to reply. Yuguchi clapped him on the shoulder with a large, firm hand.

"Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten my name."

"Like I could forget," Yoshimoto managed to reply.

Yuguchi had been someone Yoshimoto had a crush on back in high school. He couldn’t say he loved him out loud, but he had desperately wanted to be near him, to be liked by him. Knowing Yuguchi was a baseball enthusiast, Yoshimoto would diligently check the results of his favorite team’s games just to have something to talk about the next day. But despite all that, they had drifted apart after going to different universities, separated by an unbridgeable distance.

"Where are you living now?" Yuguchi asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"I'm still here," Yoshimoto replied, his voice trembling slightly with joy.

"I got a job in Okayama but transferred back here last year. Now I’m in sales at a company called Awajima Industries," Yuguchi explained.

"You, in sales? You were never much of a talker," Yoshimoto teased.

"I grew up," Yuguchi replied with a lighthearted chuckle. He had indeed matured into a confident adult, so different from the shy, awkward teenager Yoshimoto had fallen for.

"Do you still watch baseball?" Yoshimoto asked, trying to sound casual.

"Sometimes," Yoshimoto answered. These days, he only watched baseball occasionally, and mostly because Mikasa enjoyed it.

"I'm on my company’s baseball team now. We have games on Sunday mornings down by the riverbank at Ichii. If you’re free, come and watch," Yuguchi offered.

Yoshimoto's mind flashed to the memory of Yuguchi in his high school baseball uniform. The nostalgia was overwhelming, and his chest tightened with emotion. He pressed his fingers hard against his eyes to keep from tearing up.

"Oh, right," Yuguchi murmured, pulling a smartphone out of his suit pocket. "Give me your number."

They exchanged numbers. In Yuguchi's large, sturdy hands, the smartphone looked like a child’s toy. How many times had Yoshimoto wished to feel those glove-like hands on his own?

"You know," Yuguchi began, his tone a little sheepish, his smile deepening the faint laugh lines around his eyes. "I came to this reunion because I wanted to see you. I’ve always wondered where you were and what you were doing."

At that moment, Yoshimoto felt his heart constrict sweetly, as if caught in a vice of yearning. But before he could savor the moment, his name was called. The high he’d been riding came crashing down. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. For the first time in his life, Yoshimoto felt a genuine urge to strangle someone.

"What is it?" Yoshimoto asked coldly, suppressing his feelings with every ounce of his self-control.

"Kadowaki says he’s heading out," Mikasa informed him.

Excusing himself from Yuguchi, Yoshimoto hurried to follow Mikasa. Kadowaki was standing by the door, and when he saw Yoshimoto approach, he gave a faint smile.

"I’ve decided to head back to Kobe tonight," Kadowaki explained.

Yoshimoto glanced at his watch. It was barely past 7 PM. "Weren’t you planning to stay at this hotel tonight?"

Kadowaki glanced down, his expression apologetic. "I was, but my professor isn’t feeling well. He was already coming down with something before I left, and I’m worried about him. He’s the type to overwork himself without realizing it."

Though disappointed, Yoshimoto masked his feelings and murmured, "I see. That can’t be helped." Deep down, however, he thought, It’s just a cold—he’ll survive.

"I’ll try to take a longer break next time and spend more time here. We can catch up properly then," Kadowaki said. He handed Yoshimoto a hotel keycard. "The room’s already paid for, so you and Mikasa can use it if you need. It’s a twin—I had booked it in case my professor came along. If you don’t use it, just drop the key off at the front desk on your way out."

As Kadowaki leaned in, he added quietly, "Try not to fight with Mikasa too much, alright?" With that, Kadowaki left, leaving Yoshimoto standing there with the keycard in hand, feeling the faint sting of unspoken words.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

It was the first time they had ever stayed at a hotel together. They occasionally went out for meals or movies, but they’d never traveled together, and Yoshimoto had avoided love hotels entirely out of fear of accidentally running into someone he knew.

Initially, Yoshimoto had intended to return the key to the front desk, but Mikasa protested. "We’re already here; let’s just stay," he insisted. Yoshimoto, knowing Mikasa would sulk and complain endlessly back at their apartment if they left, reluctantly agreed to stay.

The twin room was plain and unremarkable, but Mikasa curiously inspected it, his gaze flitting around the space. Meanwhile, Yoshimoto, still feeling irritable, made up his mind: no matter what, nothing was happening tonight. He decided he would take an early bath and go straight to bed. As he took off his jacket, he felt Mikasa’s gaze on him. Turning to face him, Yoshimoto snapped, "What?" only to see Mikasa blushing for some inexplicable reason.

"Uh… can I join you?" Mikasa stammered.

The moment the words left Mikasa’s mouth, Yoshimoto turned beet red.

"Wh-what kind of joke is that?!" Yoshimoto barked, clenching his fists and shaking.

Sensing danger, Mikasa quickly backpedaled, speaking in a rushed tone. "No, no, I just thought the hotel bathroom might be bigger or something—"

"This isn’t a love hotel! It’s not that big, you idiot!" Yoshimoto yelled, using his volume to mask his embarrassment. Storming into the bathroom, he slammed the door. Even inside, Mikasa’s words echoed in his mind, leaving him both flustered and annoyed. It wasn’t that he hated the idea of bathing together, but tonight he wanted some space to reminisce quietly about his old crush.

When Yoshimoto emerged from the bathroom, Mikasa promptly took his turn. Yoshimoto quickly dried his hair, switched off the lights, and slipped into bed. About fifteen minutes later, Mikasa came out of the bathroom, exclaiming, "Whoa, it’s pitch dark!" His voice was followed by the loud slap of his slippers against the floor as he approached the bed.

"Satoshi!" Mikasa called softly.

Pretending to be asleep, Yoshimoto stayed silent, hoping Mikasa would give up. But his hope was in vain—he felt the tug of his bedsheet as Mikasa tried to join him.

"Go to the other bed," Yoshimoto said curtly, still facing away. Mikasa sighed, muttering, "I knew you were awake."

"I want to sleep alone tonight," Yoshimoto insisted.

"I don’t want to sleep alone," Mikasa replied.

Without a word, Yoshimoto threw off the covers and leapt into the adjacent bed, pulling the sheets over himself. Mikasa called his name again, his voice tinged with hurt, but Yoshimoto ignored him. Suddenly, he felt a weight press down on the sheets. Mikasa had climbed on top of him.

Furious, Yoshimoto thrashed beneath the covers. "Not tonight! If you try anything, I swear I’ll pack my things and move out tomorrow!" he yelled.

The weight lifted immediately. But then, as if trying to placate him, Mikasa gently began stroking Yoshimoto’s back through the sheets.

"Okay, I won’t do anything," Mikasa pleaded. "Just sleep next to me."

"No," Yoshimoto snapped.

"I swear, no funny business. Please?"

"Absolutely not."

"Please, Satoshi," Mikasa begged. "Pretty please?"

Mikasa’s relentless pleading drove Yoshimoto to cover his ears. Mikasa could be maddeningly persistent—he would pretend to yield, only to stubbornly stick to his demands. Time and again, Yoshimoto would cave, but tonight he was determined to hold firm.

Sensing Yoshimoto’s unusual resistance, Mikasa shifted tactics. "If you say yes, I’ll take care of cooking for a whole month," he offered.

Yoshimoto hesitated, his resolve wavering. But he shook his head. Don’t spoil him, he scolded himself, doubling down on his determination.

"Also, I'll do the laundry and clean the bathroom," Mikasa offered.

Yoshimoto loved taking baths but hated cleaning the bathroom. Still, he cleaned regularly because he disliked the sight of dirt. Mikasa, on the other hand, didn’t care much about cleanliness and never took the initiative to clean.

"P-please," Mikasa coaxed, slowly pulling back the sheet covering Yoshimoto's head. He leaned in and kissed Yoshimoto's slightly damp hair. Mistaking Yoshimoto’s lack of resistance for agreement, Mikasa slid under the sheet and pressed himself against Yoshimoto, who was lying on his side facing the window. True to his promise, Mikasa didn’t attempt anything more; his arm rested lightly on Yoshimoto’s stomach. Yoshimoto sighed at the familiar warmth of Mikasa’s body and closed his eyes.

Even though Yoshimoto wanted to think about Yuguchi, the idea of reminiscing about another man while Mikasa was snuggled up against him felt like a betrayal. Mikasa’s nose brushed against the nape of Yoshimoto’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine as warm breath tickled his skin.

"You smell different than usual," Mikasa murmured.

"It’s the hotel’s body soap. Of course, it’s different—" Yoshimoto’s reply was interrupted by Mikasa’s tongue flicking across his neck. He jerked instinctively, his body betraying him with its reaction. Mikasa surely noticed but, mindful of his promise, refrained from going further.

"The reunion was fun, wasn’t it?" Mikasa asked.

"Yeah," Yoshimoto admitted honestly. After Kadowaki left, he had spent more time talking to Yuguchi. There was a new-looking ring on Yuguchi’s left ring finger, and when Yoshimoto pointed it out, Yuguchi scratched his head sheepishly and admitted, "I got married last December." To Yoshimoto’s surprise, he felt nothing but genuine happiness and was able to sincerely congratulate him.

Yoshimoto had been reluctant to attend the reunion, fearing that seeing Yuguchi again might reignite old feelings. Back then, he had been truly, deeply in love. But ten years had been long enough to soften those memories. He still admired Yuguchi, but the intensity of his feelings had changed.

"By the way," Mikasa started, "did you have a crush on anyone back in high school?"

Yoshimoto considered admitting it; it was all in the past and irrelevant now. But he knew Mikasa would pester him with "Who?" if he said yes. Since he already knew about Mikasa’s feelings for Yuguchi, confessing that they had shared the same crush felt awkward. Yoshimoto hesitated, and Mikasa immediately picked up on it.

"You did," Mikasa said, smugly intuitive for once. "If you didn’t, you would’ve said no right away. Were they at the reunion?"

"I don’t know," Yoshimoto muttered.

"Don’t know? Come on, you must’ve looked around for them."

Yoshimoto seethed silently. Mikasa’s persistence annoyed him, and the comment about searching for an old crush struck a nerve. He squirmed to shake off Mikasa’s embrace, but Mikasa only clung tighter.

"Don’t get mad. I saw a few people I used to like, but you were the best," Mikasa said.

Yoshimoto stopped struggling.

"You were the most attractive, the most handsome. I wanted to show you off to everyone and say, ‘This is my boyfriend.’"

Even though Yoshimoto was angry, the sweetness of Mikasa’s words seeped into him.

"If you’d done that, we’d have broken up on the spot," Yoshimoto retorted weakly, his bitterness fading.

"Hey," Mikasa said softly, leaning over him. "Who was your crush?"

"It’s none of your business," Yoshimoto snapped.

"Was it me?" Mikasa teased.

"Not a chance!" Yoshimoto shot back.

Mikasa fell silent, his face clouding with disappointment. Yoshimoto felt guilty and awkward. He internally justified himself, thinking he had only spoken the truth.

Then, Mikasa’s fingers brushed against Yoshimoto’s hair, the gentle touch soothing him. It was Mikasa’s way of signaling that he wasn’t truly upset, and Yoshimoto felt relieved.

"Why didn’t you like me back in high school?" Mikasa murmured, almost to himself.

"I wish you had liked me back then, not just after we became adults," he added, his fingers absentmindedly playing with Yoshimoto's hair, ruffling it slightly. "If we’d been together since high school, we could’ve had so many more fun memories. It feels like such a waste."

He lowered his gaze slightly, his voice quieter now.

"Back in high school, you were always yelling at me, scolding me. That’s what I end up remembering, even though I don’t want to."

Yoshimoto froze. He had been cold to Mikasa back then, treated him poorly, even mocked him. And yet, here they were. No matter how many years they had lived together, no matter how deeply Mikasa had fallen for him, or how many times Yoshimoto had half-jokingly brought up the possibility of breaking up, Mikasa never wavered in his affection. This man, who now revealed the scars of old wounds, tugged at something inside Yoshimoto. Without thinking, Yoshimoto leaned in and kissed him. His fingers slid through Mikasa’s short hair, gently pulling him closer, his lips softly enveloping Mikasa’s.

I don’t have to say anything, Yoshimoto thought to himself. Just comforting him should be enough.

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from speaking.

"I spent a lot of time talking to Yuguchi tonight," Yoshimoto began.

Mikasa tilted his head, curious but cautious. "Hmm?"

"But you… you were much cooler than Yuguchi," Yoshimoto said.

Mikasa blinked, confused, and tilted his head further. "Huh?"

Annoyed that his confession wasn’t landing as intended, Yoshimoto raised his voice. "I said, you were cooler than Yuguchi! Isn’t that clear enough?"

After repeating himself three times, Mikasa finally grasped what he meant. "Wait… you liked Yuguchi too?" he asked, blurting it out unnecessarily.

"Yeah," Yoshimoto admitted.

Mikasa’s expression shifted into one of contemplation. "Huh. Well, I mean, Yuguchi was a cool guy."

But then Mikasa suddenly grew restless. "Wait, wait… but I was cooler than Yuguchi, right?"

"That’s what I just said, isn’t it?" Yoshimoto snapped.

Mikasa’s face lit up with relief. He pulled Yoshimoto into a tight hug, his lips finding Yoshimoto’s. His kisses trailed down Yoshimoto’s neck, and his intent became clear. Yoshimoto felt his own desire stir and decided to let it happen.

The hotel-provided pajamas were quickly stripped away. Mikasa’s tongue teased Yoshimoto’s nipples, then moved lower, skillfully working Yoshimoto’s arousal with his mouth. Meanwhile, Mikasa’s thick fingers began preparing Yoshimoto’s most intimate area, drawing shivers from his body. Yoshimoto’s sensitive body responded eagerly, pulsing in Mikasa’s mouth. He climaxed once, his chest rising and falling heavily.

Before Yoshimoto could fully recover, Mikasa turned him onto his stomach and lifted his thighs, pressing his heated length against Yoshimoto’s prepared entrance. Yoshimoto tensed, drawing in a sharp breath as the pressure intensified. Mikasa pushed halfway in and then paused.

"Hey, is this okay?" Mikasa asked hesitantly, as though unsure despite already being inside.

"Are you an idiot?" Yoshimoto retorted. "Just get on with it."

Taking that as permission, Mikasa began to move, slow and deliberate at first. Each motion struck the sensitive areas inside Yoshimoto, reigniting his arousal despite having already reached release once. Yoshimoto’s body trembled as Mikasa’s hand found his tip, rubbing it with practiced skill.

"See? You’re feeling good, aren’t you?" Mikasa murmured, his voice low and thick with satisfaction.

Unable to hold back, Yoshimoto’s body trembled and his voice escaped in uncontrolled, shameless moans. He surrendered to the overwhelming sensations, both the pleasure coursing through him and the undeniable tenderness in Mikasa’s touch.

"Your back is insanely sexy," Mikasa murmured, his voice dripping with desire.

Each thrust was forceful, rhythmic, and deliberate, sending Yoshimoto's upper body shaking uncontrollably. His arousal grew sharper, an overwhelming urge to release building within him. Yet every time he teetered on the edge, Mikasa's firm hand pressed against the base of his length, denying him the satisfaction.

"Stop it! Let me— I need to… let me go!" Yoshimoto cried out, his voice cracking with desperation.

Mikasa refused, mercilessly prolonging the torment. Yoshimoto begged, his voice breaking, but Mikasa only allowed release when it suited him. Heat poured into Yoshimoto, mingling with his own as he finally unraveled in a trembling wave of pleasure. As Mikasa withdrew, Yoshimoto's body collapsed onto the bed, spent.

Before he could fully recover, Mikasa shifted him onto his back and hovered above, his muscular frame casting shadows in the dim light. He pulled Yoshimoto into a tight embrace, his lips descending for a passionate, all-consuming kiss.

"My boyfriend is the sexiest in the world. The cutest," Mikasa said, his voice filled with unfiltered adoration.

The uninspired flattery would have been laughable, but Yoshimoto's chest tightened instead.

"I love you," Mikasa continued, his voice raw. "I love you so damn much."

Such simple, overused words shouldn't have had such an effect, but they did. Yoshimoto's heart raced in response, a ridiculous rhythm that he couldn’t control. Why do I love this guy? he wondered, even as Mikasa’s touches sent electric shivers through his body.

No matter how he tried to reason it, he couldn’t explain it. Mikasa was impulsive, relentless, and at times downright irritating. Yet, when Mikasa touched him, he melted. When Mikasa kissed him, he craved more. If Mikasa turned cold, it stung. And the thought of being told to break up? It was unbearable.

Lost in Mikasa's fervent, impatient kisses, Yoshimoto realized he didn’t have an answer. Maybe it was one only God knew.

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