About Love: Chapter 22

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On the way, Asaka had parked his car at a park for about two hours, so by the time he finally returned to his apartment, it was already past six in the evening. He had been driving absentmindedly, drained of all energy, when, just before pulling into the parking lot, he happened to glance up at the apartment building.

A figure stood in front of his door.

The moment he realized it was Sasagawa, Asaka turned off his right turn signal.

Sasagawa had followed him—and at some point, overtaken him.

The thought of returning home without noticing it sent a chill down his spine.

If that had happened, he would have been trapped, forced to listen to things he had no desire to hear—the fact that Sasagawa had grown tired of him, the details of how he had come to fall for a woman.

Like hell he was going to sit through that.

It was already unbearable enough just knowing he had been cheated on and cast aside. He didn’t need another blow on top of that. If he had to hear it spelled out, he might actually lose his mind.

In the end, he parked his car in the employee lot at Dragée and took the train.

He headed to an izakaya he had once frequented—a place Sasagawa had never been to, but that an ex-girlfriend of his had loved.

Sitting at the counter, he ordered sake.

He downed the first glass in one gulp, and the alcohol burned as it hit his empty stomach. A sharp, twisting pain spread through him. As he finished his second glass, someone called his name.

“Asaka-san.”

He turned to see Ikegami-sama, a client he managed alongside Koenji, standing beside him.

“I thought it was you,” Ikegami-sama said. “Do you come here often?”

If possible, Asaka would have preferred to avoid running into anyone he knew. He wasn’t in the mood to talk.

“I used to come here a lot, but it’s been a while.”

His response was curt, stripped of emotion.

“Ah, I see. I live nearby, so I drop by now and then. I don’t really cook for myself, so…”

Ikegami-sama’s expression clouded slightly.

“I guess the last thing you want after work is to run into a client. Sorry about that.”

Asaka realized his blunt demeanor had made Ikegami-sama say that.

When they first met, Ikegami-sama had been openly wary of him. But over time, after countless discussions, he had gradually warmed up. He wasn’t as talkative as Morino-sama, but if Asaka had to choose, he preferred Ikegami-sama. Maybe that preference had been obvious—whenever he and Koenji met with Ikegami-sama, the man always directed his questions toward Asaka.

They had built a good relationship. It would be a shame to ruin it over something as fleeting as his current emotions.

As Ikegami-sama turned his back, Asaka hesitated before calling out, “Um.”

Ikegami-sama looked back.

“Are you here alone?”

“Huh? Yeah, I am…”

“If you don’t mind, would you like to sit next to me?”

Ikegami-sama looked surprised, his gaze flickering upward at Asaka.

“…Are you sure it’s okay for me to sit next to you?”

“Yes. Please.”

A small, pleased smile crossed Ikegami-sama’s face as he moved to the seat beside him.

It was only then that Asaka noticed how tightly he had been gripping his glass.

“I know it’s strange to invite you over and then say this, but… I had a rough day. I’m just drinking to forget. If I end up passing out, feel free to leave me be.”

Ikegami-sama looked momentarily puzzled, then chuckled softly.

“Go for it. Drink as much as you want.”

Even so, Asaka reminded himself—Ikegami-sama was still a client, one he’d be working with for at least another three months until the ceremony was over. Getting blackout drunk in front of him wasn’t exactly an option.

Still, he ordered his third glass.

Ikegami-sama ordered a beer and some lotus root tempura, nudging the plate toward Asaka. “This place makes great ones. You should try some.”

At first, Asaka refused, but Ikegami-sama persisted. “If you’ve never had them before, at least take a bite.”

It felt petty to keep refusing, so he took a single piece. As expected, it was good.

“So, Asaka-san,” Ikegami-sama began. “Is your bad day work-related?”

Asaka shook his head. “No.”

“Then… did you have a fight with your girlfriend?”

It wasn’t a girlfriend. But the guess was painfully on the mark.

Asaka pressed his right hand to his forehead and lowered his gaze.

“Oh, shit. Really?” Ikegami-sama said. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

His flustered voice made Asaka lift his head.

"It's fine. It's the truth, after all. To be precise, it wasn’t a fight—I just found out I was being two-timed, and since he clearly prefers the other person, we’re done."

Asaka regretted saying it the moment he saw the conflicted look on Ikegami-sama’s face. Even if something was true, there were times when it was better left unsaid.

"I'm not as hurt as it sounds, so don’t worry about it."

Muttering that, Asaka ordered his fourth drink.

Was Sasagawa still standing in front of his apartment? No, nearly two hours had passed since then—he had probably gone home. Hopefully, he had.

"You know… seeing you like this, you actually seem normal. When you’re working, you come off as this super competent, no-nonsense guy."

Asaka let out a dry laugh.

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"No, really. It’s just… I didn’t think there were guys like you who don’t have any prejudice."

As they continued their idle conversation, Asaka kept drinking. Talking with Ikegami-sama helped take his mind off things, if only a little. But the moment there was silence, it all came rushing back—the tight, suffocating pain in his chest.

As the night dragged on, the crowd in the izakaya thinned. Just as Asaka was thinking how quiet it had gotten, a firm hand grabbed his shoulder and shook him.

"Asaka-san, we’re leaving."

He stood up, drawn by the voice. But his legs were unsteady, and he couldn’t walk properly. Stumbling into tables and chairs, he somehow made it to the entrance. The moment he stepped outside, he sank down onto the ground.

"Can you get in a taxi?"

"No, I… one more bar…"

"Yeah, right. You’re already completely wasted. If you drink any more, you’ll die."

Ikegami-sama let Asaka lean on him as they walked. But even that seemed to be a struggle—before long, he, too, gave in and slumped down in front of a closed storefront.

"Asaka-san, you’re… kinda heavy."

On the low stone steps, Asaka sprawled out, completely limp.

Ikegami-sama didn’t leave him there. Instead, he quietly sat beside him.

"Asaka-san…"

A voice filtered into his drowsy ears.

"Be honest, do you think people like us are disgusting?"

"What?"

He asked reflexively, then realized what Ikegami-sama meant.

"…Not really."

Asaka curled in on himself, cradling his head.

"I’m the same kind."

Ikegami-sama let out a small "huh" of surprise.

Even in his drunken haze, Asaka knew he had just said something he probably shouldn’t have.

"Don’t tell anyone. Not at work, not to friends… I haven’t told a soul, and I don’t intend to."

A long sigh came from beside him.

"So that’s why," Ikegami-sama murmured. "That’s why you were so kind to us. Now it makes sense."

"That’s… not why," Asaka mumbled, gripping his head in both hands.

"A client is… a client. All the same… the same…"

His consciousness drifted. Voices faded. He thought he heard Ikegami-sama murmur, "I see…" but by then, he could no longer tell if it was real or a dream.

The next morning, Asaka woke up in Ikegami-sama’s apartment.

"Last night was pretty entertaining," Ikegami said with a laugh.

But there was no doubt he had caused a huge inconvenience, so Asaka apologized profusely before heading home.

On the train, he turned on his phone. Three messages from Sasagawa. All of them said the same thing:

"I want to see you again. I want to talk."

A flicker of unease passed through him—what if Sasagawa was still waiting in front of his apartment? But when he arrived, there was no tall figure standing by his door. Instead, a single note was wedged into the doorframe.

"Whenever you're ready, please contact me. I'll come to you."

The words made his chest ache.

When he had wanted to see Sasagawa so desperately, he had been ignored. But now that things had fallen apart, Sasagawa wanted to come to him.

His fingertips tingled as he held the note. For a moment, he considered tearing it to shreds. But in the end, he simply folded it up, small and tight, and stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans.

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