That Person: Chapter 2
After the incident at the drinking party where
Matsushita had touched his hair, Kadowaki hadn’t seen him on campus. Even
during the weekly seminars, the professor continued holding classes without
pause, but Matsushita stopped appearing as an assistant.
The absence wasn’t necessarily strange in
itself, but Kadowaki couldn’t shake the lingering thought that Matsushita might
be avoiding him.
One day, after oversleeping unusually late,
Kadowaki rushed to make it to his afternoon seminar. Barely arriving on time,
he found the seats near the blackboard already taken and settled for a spot
near the entrance.
The professor hadn’t arrived yet. A rush of
footsteps approached, and a group of latecomers entered through the back door,
one of them taking the seat beside him.
"Oh, it’s you, Kadowaki," said
Mashiba, letting out a small laugh. "Don’t you always sit up front near
the blackboard?"
"I was late today," Kadowaki replied.
Mashiba nodded in understanding, removing his
cap and placing it on an empty chair. Mashiba, two years older than Kadowaki,
had switched universities, leaving an economics program to enroll in the
science department. Known for his boisterous energy and slightly restless
demeanor, he sometimes gave off a more youthful impression than Kadowaki,
despite their age difference.
"By the way, about that drinking party the
other day," Mashiba began, "you got pretty smashed. Are you okay? I
asked Matsushita to take care of you when I said I was leaving after the first
round, but I was still worried."
"Really? Weren’t you the one trying to get
me drunk in the first place?" Kadowaki retorted.
Unfazed, Mashiba flashed a cheeky grin.
"Some of the girls were saying, ‘I want to see Kadowaki-kun all disheveled
for once!’ and I couldn’t help but get into the spirit. You’re strong with
alcohol, but once it hits you, you just conk out. Too bad you didn’t start
crying or stripping or something. That would’ve been hilarious."
"Sorry to disappoint you," Kadowaki
said dryly.
"Still, even smashed, you stayed
consistent—classic Kadowaki," Mashiba remarked. "By the way, your
buddy Yoshimoto in the economics department is apparently really good with
alcohol too."
"You seem to know a lot," Kadowaki
said.
Mashiba grinned, clearly pleased with himself.
"Yoshimoto’s one of those pretty-boy types, so he’s got a lot of admirers.
But even though he’s friendly, his guard’s ironclad. Someone once tried to get
him drunk to make a move, but no dice. Apparently, he downed two whole bottles
of sake without even flinching."
Kadowaki recalled Yoshimoto’s side profile,
calm as ever while drinking sake like water.
"Now that you mention it, I’ve never seen
him drunk either," Kadowaki admitted.
"You two are like the sophisticated
drinking duo," Mashiba teased.
"Don’t make it sound bad," Kadowaki
muttered.
At the sound of the door opening, Mashiba fell
silent. It wasn’t the professor in his usual gray suit but Matsushita who
walked into the room. For some reason, Kadowaki instinctively lowered his gaze.
Matsushita was wearing the same faded navy shirt he had at the drinking party,
and Kadowaki didn’t want to look at it.
Matsushita informed the class that the
professor had an urgent matter and he would be conducting the lecture in his
place. Taking the report and handouts from the assigned presenter, Matsushita
skimmed them before asking the student to start their presentation. Sitting
down with his chin resting on his hand, Matsushita seemed like his usual self.
Yet something was off. After the presentation,
Matsushita repeated the same explanation twice without realizing it until a
nearby student pointed it out. Blushing, Matsushita apologized and tried to
regain his composure. He began discussing Hopf bifurcations, connecting it to
the topic of coupled oscillator networks, but his lecture soon started to
unravel. The coherence of his points faltered until, eventually, he trailed off
mid-sentence, falling completely silent.
"Please forget what I just said."
Matsushita abruptly ended his incoherent
lecture and shifted his attention to questioning another presenter. However,
his questions were completely off-point.
"Is it just me, or is Matsushita acting
weird?" Mashiba muttered, tilting his head in confusion.
Soon, Matsushita’s face turned visibly pale,
enough for the presenting student to ask, “Are you okay?” Despite this,
Matsushita pressed on with the lecture until, unable to continue, he cut it
short thirty minutes early.
"I’m not feeling well. I’m sorry, but I
need to end the class here," Matsushita announced.
No one tried to stop him. He quickly gathered
his books and handouts, but instead of leaving immediately, he paused in front
of Kadowaki.
"I need to speak with you. Please come to
the faculty office," he said, still looking down, before exiting without
waiting for a response.
Mashiba looked puzzled. "What does he want
with you?"
"…No idea," Kadowaki replied, though
he suspected it had something to do with the incident at the drinking party.
Curious, Kadowaki asked Mashiba a question of
his own. "How old is Matsushita, anyway?"
Without much expectation of a definitive
answer, Mashiba mused aloud. "He looks younger because he’s single, but I
think he’s 39 this year. When I was a freshman, there was a girl in the same
department who had a thing for Matsushita. Back then, she said he was 37."
Kadowaki had estimated Matsushita to be in his
mid-thirties, so the reality exceeded his assumptions. But more pressing was…
"That’s nearly a 20-year age gap. What
kind of ‘thing’ are we talking about?" Kadowaki asked.
Mashiba let out a thoughtful hum as he pulled
his cap down lower. "Women, man. Once they like someone, age doesn’t
really matter to them. Personally, I just see him as some old guy."
Parting ways with Mashiba at the classroom
door, Kadowaki made his way toward the faculty office, his steps heavy. A
February baby, Kadowaki had turned 21 only in March. That meant there was a
17—perhaps even 18—year age difference between him and Matsushita. The thought
of Matsushita being a high school sophomore when Kadowaki was born made him
feel strangely disoriented.
Lost in these trivial musings, Kadowaki
eventually arrived at the mathematics department’s faculty office. Before
entering, he checked in with himself. No matter what Matsushita might say,
Kadowaki’s answer was already decided.
He knocked. "Come in," a voice called
from inside.
Opening the door, Kadowaki stepped in just as
Matsushita, seeing him, sprang to his feet in apparent fluster, knocking a book
from his desk to the floor. The room was lined with desks, but Matsushita was
the only one present.
"You said you wanted to speak to me, so
here I am," Kadowaki stated, halting just inside the room. Matsushita
hastily picked up the dropped book, letting out a small sigh as he
straightened.
"I'm sorry for summoning you so suddenly.
I hope this didn’t clash with a fourth-period class? I didn’t consider that
possibility..."
"I don’t have any classes," Kadowaki
replied.
Matsushita let out a relieved sigh, his hand
instinctively pressing to his chest. The man before Kadowaki was more than a
decade his senior—too young to be mistaken for his father, yet close enough to
make the comparison plausible. Matsushita adjusted the bridge of his rimless
glasses with his fingers, the gesture adding to his aura of nervousness.
His lanky frame, devoid of any association with
the word "athletic," and his pale, unhealthy complexion painted the
image of a man consumed by academia. While Kadowaki wasn’t exactly one to
speak, Matsushita’s unpolished appearance and frail demeanor seemed perfectly
suited to the label of "impoverished scholar."
"About the incident at the drinking party
two weeks ago, I must apologize for my behavior." Matsushita bowed deeply,
his voice filled with gravity.
"It’s... fine," Kadowaki responded,
though Matsushita seemed on the verge of saying more. Instead, Matsushita
hesitated, leaving an awkward silence to grow between them. Kadowaki couldn’t
bring himself to prod the conversation along, and the weight of the unspoken
words lingered uncomfortably.
Analyzing Matsushita’s demeanor, Kadowaki
attempted to connect the dots: the incident at the party, Matsushita’s current
hesitation, and the possibility—however unlikely—that Matsushita harbored
feelings for him.
If Matsushita indeed "liked" him, the
chain of events might unfold as follows: Matsushita develops feelings for a
younger man → Matsushita acts impulsively at a party → Matsushita feels guilty
and apologizes → And now?
Would this moment lead to a confession? It
seemed logical. If so, Kadowaki wished Matsushita would just say it. That would
allow him to respond with a definitive, "I’m sorry, but I can’t
reciprocate romantic feelings for someone of the same sex," and put an end
to this awkwardness.
But Matsushita remained silent, caught in a web
of his own making. Perhaps it was because Kadowaki was male, because of their
age difference, because Kadowaki was one of his students, or even because of
the potential rumors and societal judgment. The more Kadowaki thought about it,
the more plausible reasons he could find for Matsushita’s hesitation.
Still, the unbearable awkwardness hung over
them. If Matsushita couldn’t bring himself to speak, Kadowaki wondered if he
could create an opening for both of them to emerge from this moment with
minimal harm.
"I apologize if I’m mistaken,"
Kadowaki began, carefully selecting his words to avoid offending Matsushita.
"But if you do harbor special feelings for me, I must let you know that I
cannot reciprocate them."
Matsushita, who had been looking down, raised
his face. He neither laughed it off nor angrily denied it. He didn’t dismiss
Kadowaki’s statement as ridiculous, either. Any of those reactions would have
been fine with Kadowaki, but instead:
"I’m sorry," Matsushita said simply,
his words carrying the weight of admission.
There was no attempt to downplay the situation
as a joke, no defensive outburst. Matsushita had acknowledged the truth.
Kadowaki felt that he had said what he needed to, and Matsushita had received
his answer.
Still, Kadowaki hesitated to excuse himself and
leave. He turned his gaze out the window, seeking a reprieve from the tension.
Beyond the glass, a spiderweb glistened, empty of its maker.
"Please forget the cowardly thing I did.
I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable."
Matsushita's voice was steeped in a somber
tone. While the unsolicited touch had indeed been unpleasant, if Matsushita had
been dwelling on it all this time, Kadowaki couldn’t help but feel a twinge of
pity.
"I have no prejudice against
homosexuality. I even have friends who share that orientation. It’s just that I
don’t see members of the same sex as romantic partners, that’s all."
Matsushita fixed his gaze on Kadowaki, then
exhaled deeply as if trying to steady his trembling breaths.
"Once, the professor showed me one of your
reports, commenting on how you had an exceptionally interesting perspective.
Your approach, coming from angles we had never considered, felt so refreshing
that I found myself curious—what kind of student were you?"
He paused, his words momentarily hanging in the
air.
"I’d wanted to sit down and talk with you
for a while, but I wasn’t sure how to start a conversation. No, perhaps that’s
not entirely accurate..."
Matsushita shook his head lightly, as if to
dismiss his own explanation.
"No, in this case, the details don’t
really matter, do they?"
While Kadowaki could sense Matsushita’s
hesitance, he still had no idea what the man was trying to say.
"In short," Matsushita continued, his
tone steady, "I was rejected before I even got the chance to
confess."
He didn’t look as though he was blaming anyone
or anything. Instead, Matsushita’s expression carried a quiet resignation, his
eyes filled with a profound sadness as they met Kadowaki’s.
◇:-:◆:-:◇
When Kadowaki left the faculty room, he felt a
strong sense of closure. He had heard Matsushita’s feelings and had clearly
stated that he could not reciprocate. Matsushita seemed to accept this. The
sense of clarity likely came from finally confronting and confirming what had
only been speculative before.
He considered going straight home but on a whim
stepped into the library. Perhaps because his exchange with Matsushita still
lingered fresh in his mind, he found himself in the Japanese literature
section, an area he rarely explored. He pulled out a book that seemed to be a
romance novel, read the first few lines, and put it back.
Why had Matsushita come to feel attracted to
him? Aside from the occasional interaction during class, there was little
connection between them. Considering they were the same sex and separated by
years in age, what were the odds of such emotions arising? Feelings couldn’t be
quantified, and yet Kadowaki found himself marveling at the strangeness of his
brush with romance.
During his sophomore year, Kadowaki had worked
part-time at a bookstore and been asked out by a junior college girl who worked
there. Though he hadn’t felt anything special for her, he agreed when she said
they could start as friends.
Their conversations often didn’t align.
Kadowaki, unversed in trending topics, would frequently lapse into silence,
believing that meaningless conversation was worse than no conversation at all.
Even when alone together, they often had little to say. Lacking the skill to
entertain others, Kadowaki usually ended up being the listener during
gatherings with friends. He didn’t mind; he enjoyed it in his way and didn’t
feel dissatisfied.
About three months into their friendship, the
girl told him she wanted to break things off. Though it seemed odd to end a
friendship that was never really a relationship, Kadowaki didn’t argue and let
her explain herself. She accused him of being insensitive, citing specific
examples, before delivering the damning verdict:
"Kadowaki-kun, you’re just not
interesting."
Her statement was her opinion, not an absolute
truth. After all, majority consensus doesn’t guarantee correctness. Emotions
are fluid and subjective, so definitive conclusions are impossible. Perhaps
rationalizing it this way was Kadowaki’s way of evading the deeper issue. For
two days, he remained preoccupied with her words, seriously contemplating what
it meant to be "not interesting," rather than why she had left.
Words like "love" and
"romance" are commonly used, but their definitions and the emotions
they represent remain elusive to Kadowaki. When that girl distanced herself, he
might have experienced the faintest traces of romantic feelings, but he
couldn’t say for sure.
"I really love him. I adore him so
much."
When talking about Yoshimoto, Mikasa often
repeated phrases like "I love him" or "I’m in love with
him."
"I just can’t help wanting to see him.
Even in the middle of the night, I’ll suddenly want to see his face. Messages
don’t cut it. I want to hear his voice. When I can’t reach him, I feel so
lonely I could cry."
Kadowaki had never experienced such feelings
for anyone.
"When we’re together, I feel happy. When I
hold him, he’s warm, and it feels so nice. That’s why I want to treasure him,
to protect him."
By Mikasa’s example, Kadowaki concluded that he
had never clearly felt romantic emotions for anyone. He regretted not asking
Matsushita directly what kind of feelings he had for him. It would have been
helpful to hear it in detail.
The library was warm. Standing in a sunny spot
near a window, Kadowaki found the sunlight soothing as it gently seeped into
him. He noticed dust particles floating in the light, barely visible, and
wondered what kind of formula might explain their patterns of movement.
◇:-:◆:-:◇
A week had passed since Mikasa had performed
his dramatic love scene outside his apartment after a huge fight, and three
days since Matsushita had called Kadowaki in to talk. With the calendar now
flipped to May, the evening chill had softened, something Kadowaki noticed as
the cool air brushed against his cheeks during his nighttime walk.
When he ducked under the warm noren of the
izakaya and sat across from Mikasa in the tatami seating, Mikasa apologized.
“Sorry for barging in so late the other night,” he said, smiling. “Tonight’s on
me.”
“It was good to apologize that night,” Mikasa
continued, his mood buoyant. “Things have been great since then.”
Watching Mikasa’s cheerful drinking reminded
Kadowaki of the unabashed kiss that night, a memory he couldn’t quite shake.
“Eat and drink as much as you want!” Mikasa
encouraged.
Though Mikasa played the role of a carefree
spender, Kadowaki couldn’t help but think about his friend’s thin wallet. Even
in the budget izakaya, he avoided ordering anything pricey. Meanwhile, Mikasa
devoured the dishes with such gusto that it seemed he might eat the plates
themselves. Mikasa and Matsushita couldn’t be more different in demeanor and
likely in nature. Still, they shared the commonality of being attracted to the
same sex—a thought Kadowaki pushed aside, trying to switch off his tendency to
classify everything.
“There’s something I want to ask you,” Kadowaki
said.
Mikasa, engrossed in his plate of nikujaga,
looked up. “What’s up?”
“Is there a difference between liking men and
liking women?”
Mikasa chuckled, covering his mouth with his
hand. “I don’t think gender matters when it comes to liking someone. But, well,
I guess I’m not the best person to say that, being more into guys.”
“Does it happen in a flash? Like, you just know
when you meet them?”
At this, Mikasa outright laughed. “You’ve
fallen for someone before, haven’t you? For me, it’s often love at first sight.
The moment our eyes meet, I just know. It’s like the world looks completely
different after that. Everything changes.”
Kadowaki had never experienced a world-changing
moment like Mikasa described.
“But, you know,” Mikasa added, “Satoshi was
different. He was the first one to approach me. But the how doesn’t really
matter. What’s important is what happens afterward.”
“I see…”
Mikasa tilted his head and peered at Kadowaki
with curiosity. “Wait, do you have your eye on someone?”
Perhaps because he’d been asking about love,
Mikasa jumped to conclusions, his expression lighting up as if he’d made a
discovery.
“Come on, tell me! I’ve been leaning on you to
hear me out all this time, so let me help you for a change. Who’s the lucky
person?”
There was no guilt or awkwardness to hide, so
Kadowaki answered plainly. “Someone had feelings for me, but they were the same
sex. I turned them down because I couldn’t return those feelings.”
“Oh…” Mikasa’s face twisted into a mix of
emotions as he fell silent.
“He wasn’t a bad person, but I just couldn’t
imagine being in a relationship with him.”
“Got it.”
The two lapsed into silence, filling the gap
with sips of alcohol. Eventually, they called it a night after 9 p.m. and
parted ways outside the izakaya.
Returning to his apartment’s neighborhood via
his usual station, Kadowaki noticed an unusual traffic jam. The quiet street
was crowded with people, something he rarely saw. He wondered if there had been
a car accident nearby.
“Did you see the photos? The fire’s insane,” a
high schooler chatted on their phone by the roadside. “Looks like it’s almost
out, though.”
The source of the commotion seemed to be a
fire. As Kadowaki neared his apartment, the congestion grew worse. He squinted
toward the direction of his building, a sinking feeling taking root.
…White smoke was rising faintly from the area
where his apartment stood.
◇:-:◆:-:◇
There were still a few fire trucks in front of
the apartment building, but the flames had been mostly extinguished. The ground
was soaked from the water used to douse the fire, and the acrid smell of
burning lingered in the air. White smoke rose from the charred beams, a stark
reminder of the fire’s violence. The two-story apartment building was
completely destroyed. Kadowaki’s first-floor unit had its windows and door
burned away, leaving a clear view straight through to the other side.
If there was anything salvageable left,
Kadowaki wanted to retrieve it. However, the building was cordoned off with
yellow tape, barring entry. As he stood there wondering what to do, his right
hand was suddenly gripped firmly. Startled, he turned to see the pale face of
his landlord.
“Oh, it really is you, Kadowaki,” said the
landlord, an elderly man in his sixties, thin and balding. Relief washed over
him as he patted his chest. “I’m so glad you’re safe. I was worried about what
might have happened if you’d been trapped inside. We don’t know the full
details yet, but it seems the fire started in Mr. Tao’s unit on the first
floor.”
Before he could explain further, the landlord
was approached by an upstairs tenant demanding answers about compensation and
damages. Kadowaki leaned against a nearby wall, staring at the scorched remains
of his home. The police had told him he couldn’t enter until the investigation
was complete, but even then, he didn’t have anywhere else to go.
The sight of his destroyed belongings flashed
through his mind: the laptop he’d saved up for through part-time work, his
class notes, and the stamp collection passed down from his
grandfather—carefully curated over many years. Even if the stamps miraculously
survived the flames, they would lose much of their value if water-damaged. The
loss felt overwhelming.
A hand patted his shoulder. It was Mikasa, who
had rushed back after Kadowaki texted him, “My apartment caught fire.” Mikasa
had been on his way home but turned around to come to his friend’s side.
“For now, come crash at my place,” Mikasa
offered.
“…Yeah.” There was no point in staying here.
The investigation could take who knows how long, and even after it was done,
the police had warned that access to the building might not be allowed if it
was deemed structurally unsafe.
As Kadowaki trudged away, still reluctant to
leave the remnants of his home, he accidentally bumped shoulders with someone
running toward him.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kadowaki said, looking up—and
froze. His surprise was mirrored in the wide eyes of Matsushita, who had also
stopped in his tracks.
“You’re safe… That’s a relief,” Matsushita
said, his tense soot-smudged expression softening as he exhaled, seemingly
reassured upon seeing Kadowaki’s face.
Ahead, Mikasa noticed Kadowaki speaking with
someone and turned back to join them. He gave Matsushita a polite nod before
leaning in to whisper to Kadowaki, “Who’s this?”
“A professor from my university,” Kadowaki
replied.
“Oh,” Mikasa said, nodding in acknowledgment.
“Does he live nearby?”
The question made Kadowaki pause. He didn’t
know where Matsushita lived, but clearly, Matsushita knew where he did.
“I saw the fire on the news,” Matsushita
explained. “It looked like it was near your address, so I checked, and it was
your apartment building. I was so shocked.”
It seemed Matsushita had come to ensure
Kadowaki’s safety.
“Did you know my address, Professor?” Kadowaki
asked, his tone unintentionally stiff.
Matsushita seemed to pick up on this and
lowered his head apologetically. “The student roster for the seminar includes
your address,” he explained.
A teacher concerned about his student’s safety
had come rushing to check on him. Before Kadowaki had realized Matsushita’s
feelings, he might have felt genuinely grateful. But now, it was hard to muster
the words, “Thank you for worrying about me.”
“What will you do now?” Matsushita asked,
wiping the soot off his face with his palm. Kadowaki wondered how long
Matsushita had been there but chose not to ask.
“I’ll be staying at a friend’s place tonight,”
Kadowaki replied. The beige coat Matsushita wore was speckled with gray ash
stains, a testament to his presence near the scene.
“Then at least tonight, there’s no need to
worry. The aftermath, though, might be quite challenging. If there’s anything I
can do to help, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Yes, thank you…”
“Then I’ll be off. Goodnight,” Matsushita said,
turning on his heel. But after taking only a few steps, he stopped and
returned.
“Do you have enough money? Your bank book and
other essentials may have burned.”
“I have some cash in my wallet and my cards
with me.”
“Ah, that’s good,” Matsushita said, bowing
slightly before finally disappearing into the crowd.
After Matsushita left, Kadowaki walked to the
station alongside Mikasa. On the train, he began to contemplate the days ahead.
He needed to find a cheap apartment, replace his belongings from scratch, and,
most urgently, repurchase his textbooks. This disaster, so unforeseen just a
day ago, now loomed heavily. The monthly allowance from his parents was still
intact, enough for food, but he would have to rely on them for funds to secure
a new place. With his younger brother set to start university next year, Kadowaki
felt a deep reluctance to ask for money at such a financially strained time.
“He’s a good guy,” Mikasa said suddenly,
breaking the silence that hung between them. Kadowaki, preoccupied with
planning his future, turned to look at him.
“Your professor. He speaks so politely, doesn’t
he? I work in construction, so I’m surrounded by people who are rough in both
speech and temperament. But he didn’t act superior, even though he’s a teacher.
He came all the way to check on you out of concern. That’s kind. I bet he was
looking for you there for quite a while—his face was really covered in soot.”
Hearing Mikasa’s glowing assessment, Kadowaki
couldn’t bring himself to admit that he had rejected Matsushita. He silently
wished that Matsushita hadn’t harbored feelings for him. If he hadn’t, Kadowaki
could have admired him as a straightforward and respectable lecturer. But
knowing Matsushita’s emotions, Kadowaki found his opinion of the man subtly
diminished—at least, within himself.
When they arrived at Mikasa’s apartment, the
space was just as musty and dusty as it had been on Kadowaki’s last visit.
After taking a shower, Kadowaki emerged from the bathroom, drying his hair, to
find Mikasa seated formally on the floor, speaking on his phone.
“I’m telling you, Kadowaki was with me
drinking, so he’s fine,” Mikasa said, glancing over his shoulder at Kadowaki
with a knowing look. “It’s Satoshi. He’s asking if you’re okay.”
Mikasa handed the phone to Kadowaki.
“I’m fine,” Kadowaki assured Satoshi. “My
apartment burned down, but luckily, I wasn’t home. I’ll be staying at Mikasa’s
place tonight. Until I find a new apartment, I’ll—”
Satoshi cut him off mid-sentence.
“Kadowaki, listen to me. Don’t stay there. Come
to my place right now. There’s no reason to stay in a filthy, unhygienic dump
like that. If you do, you’re guaranteed to catch something.”
The exaggerated warning made Kadowaki chuckle.
“Isn’t this what most bachelor pads are like?”
“No, Mikasa’s place is on another level. I’ve
stayed there, so trust me—it’s bad. Just come to my place.”
Satoshi’s insistence left Kadowaki torn. “But I
already told Mikasa I’d stay with him…”
At that moment, Mikasa tapped Kadowaki on the
shoulder. Despite being unable to hear Satoshi’s words, Mikasa seemed to
understand the situation. With a knowing smile, he extended his hand to take
the phone back.
“It’s fine. There’s no way anything like what you’re
worrying about will happen…”
Mikasa frowned midway through the conversation.
“…He hung up on me.”
Sighing, Mikasa set his phone on the table. His
apartment might not be pristine, but it wasn’t so filthy as to justify
Yoshimoto’s vehement objections. At the very least, it was tolerable.
The two turned off the lights and slid under
their respective futons, laid side by side. Despite the exhaustion from the
day’s events, Kadowaki couldn’t fall asleep. His mind raced with thoughts of
what he needed to do starting tomorrow. Mikasa, seemingly unable to sleep
either, kept tossing and turning. Noticing that Kadowaki was still awake, he
apologized.
“Sorry for being noisy.”
“It’s fine; I don’t mind.”
Mikasa lay quietly on his stomach for a while
before hugging his pillow and growling softly, like a dog.
“…It’s been a while since I slept at home, but
this futon kind of stinks.”
“Have you been too busy with work to come
home?”
Mikasa shook his head.
“I’ve been staying over at Satoshi’s place. I
couldn’t make time to meet up because of all the overtime. But Satoshi refuses
to come here.”
“Why?”
There was a brief silence.
“Last time he stayed over, he woke up the next
morning freaking out about being itchy. He went to the doctor, and, well… it
turns out he’d been bitten by mites. I didn’t feel a thing, even though we
slept in the same bed, but Satoshi was furious—like he was about to breathe
fire. Since then, he hasn’t come over.”
Hearing about the mites made Kadowaki feel
itchy himself. Yoshimoto’s insistence earlier that Kadowaki stay at his place
suddenly made a lot more sense. When Kadowaki discreetly sniffed the futon,
Mikasa noticed.
“It’s fine, really,” Mikasa reassured him.
“After the whole mite incident, I sent the futon to the cleaners. I told Satoshi
that, but it didn’t help.”
Mikasa’s voice grew quieter, almost melancholy.
Then, in a small voice, he asked, “Mind if I make a quick call?”
He offered an excuse as he dialed. “I just
can’t sleep when we’ve fought like this.”
Despite his contrite tone, the call ended
abruptly—Yoshimoto had hung up again. Mikasa, clearly annoyed, threw his phone
across the room but sheepishly retrieved it three minutes later. He clutched it
tightly in his hands, flipping it open and closed like he was willing it to
hatch an answer.
“If it’s bothering you that much, why not call
him again?” Kadowaki suggested.
Mikasa buried his face in his pillow. “He won’t
answer. Last time we fought, he turned off his phone completely.”
Mikasa held his head in frustration. “It’s so
frustrating. I won’t be able to sleep—just like before.”
He stared at his phone, the tension visible.
Kadowaki realized that Mikasa probably wanted to go see Yoshimoto but was
hesitating.
“Why don’t you apologize in person? The trains
are still running.”
Mikasa shot up, his face lighting up with
excitement, but he quickly looked down again. “No, it’s fine. You just lost
your apartment; you’re probably feeling unsettled…”
He pulled the futon over his head, curling into
a ball. Mikasa, outwardly brash, was surprisingly considerate in his own way.
Kadowaki pulled out his own phone and dialed
Yoshimoto. It connected after three rings.
“Yoshimoto? It’s me. Mikasa’s coming over right
now.”
Mikasa bolted upright.
“His snoring is too loud. I can’t sleep. Take
care of him for me.”
Kadowaki ended the call without waiting for a
reply and turned to Mikasa.
“Don’t worry about me—just go.”
Mikasa enveloped Kadowaki in a bear hug so
tight it nearly squeezed the life out of him. After the embrace, Mikasa quickly
changed into jeans and a hoodie, grabbed his phone and wallet, and dashed out
the door.
Left behind in Kadowaki’s hand was a solitary
key to Mikasa’s apartment, looking strangely forlorn in its absence of its
owner.
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