COLD THE FINAL: Chapter 11
COLD HEART – the passing season
Winter
He snapped awake with a sudden flicker
of awareness. The dimness around him was still heavy with the hush of the early
hours—closer to night than morning. It was cold. Masahiko Kusuda hugged his
pillow and pulled the blanket over his head, hoping to fall back asleep. …But
once parted, sleep did not return so easily. After tossing and turning beneath
the covers until even that grew dull, he finally hauled himself upright.
He had spent the New Year’s
countdown at Jessica’s apartment, surrounded by friends. She’d offered to let
him stay the night, but there were too many people, too much bustle, no real
place for him—so he’d slipped away after a reasonable hour and come home.
Buzzed and drowsy, he hadn’t even bothered to shower before diving into bed. Up
until the moment sleep claimed him, the streets outside had echoed with the
pointless rowdiness of New Yorkers indulging in their annual antics.
It was five a.m. when he checked his
phone. Throwing on a hoodie, he wandered to the window. Snow was falling softly
outside, the streetlamps casting a pale glow across the whitened sidewalks. At
last, the city had fallen quiet. A peaceful beginning to the year.
…He had thought about returning to
Japan for New Year's this time. But the resolve had never come, and he remained
in New York. Until recently, he’d avoided going home out of fear of running
into Akizawa. Now, though, he had already decided to try repairing things.
They’d seen each other numerous times in this city. Akizawa had even stayed at
his place. At this point, there was no reason left to hesitate about going
back.
The first time Akizawa had stayed in
the apartment, he’d handcuffed himself to the sofa that served as his bed—to
prove he wouldn’t try anything, to make Kusuda feel safe. Two weeks ago, when
Akizawa came to stay for three days, Kusuda had told him it wasn’t necessary
anymore. That he was fine without it now. That he understood Akizawa’s
intention. Compared to those early days, when his whole body would tremble just
from being nearby and his mind would spiral into incoherent panic, things had
progressed immensely. Kusuda still tensed up when Akizawa was near—could still
feel the reflexive jolt from scent or proximity—but now he could at least share
a space with him for hours at a time.
He left his room and stepped into
the main office space. Moving through to the small kitchen separated by a
partition, he grabbed a bottle of beer that had been left in the cupboard.
Sitting down at the desk by the window, he shivered from the sudden cold. The
central heating hadn’t been working so well lately. He drank the beer anyway,
letting the cold carbonation heat slowly in his belly.
Those three days Akizawa had spent
here had gone by in a flash. And during that time, Kusuda had felt guilty.
Akizawa had been on vacation, and Kusuda had roped him into the chaos of a
stage production after the lead actor dropped out, forcing him to perform in
two full-length plays as a volunteer. There’d only been one
rehearsal—practically a cold read—but Akizawa had delivered a stunning
portrayal of Lear. He wasn’t the most cooperative with the rest of the cast,
but his sheer intensity had been undeniable. It was like he had ripped out his
own soul and laid it bare. Even now, when Kusuda closed his eyes, he could see
Akizawa standing there onstage. He replayed it slowly in his mind. But as a
chill returned to his body, he opened his eyes. The excitement faded like
smoke.
The second beer started warming his
gut, but his limbs were still freezing. He couldn’t take it anymore and
returned to his room, diving under the blankets. The warmth he’d left behind
still lingered faintly. Even so, the alcohol didn’t bring back sleep. Reaching
for his phone on the bedside table, he checked the time difference—fourteen
hours between New York and Tokyo.
He usually spoke to Akizawa at
night, but yesterday’s party had gotten in the way. It was nighttime in Japan
now… What was that guy doing?
It wouldn’t be too late to message
him now. “Not like he’ll see it right away,” Kusuda murmured, typing out What
are you doing right now? on social media.
It was marked read almost
instantly—and then, his phone began to ring.
Startled, he dropped it. The phone
buzzed softly against the sheets. Hastily, he scooped it back up and hit answer.
“Masahiko, what’s up?” Akizawa’s
voice came through.
It was Akizawa’s voice. Before the
tension could even set in, for some reason, tears began to rise instead.
“Ah, no, it’s just… I woke up and
couldn’t fall back asleep…”
“Ahh, yeah, that happens sometimes.
I was actually thinking of calling you around eleven. I was wondering if you
might still be awake. I really wanted to be the first one to say it to you.
Oh—can I say it now? Happy New Year!”
Kusuda gave a quiet laugh at the way
the man barreled into the new year full force and returned, “Happy New Year.”
“Last year, and this year too, I
love you always.”
The cold, dreary night receded.
That’s all it was—he’d just been lonely. That quiet night, the stillness of
being alone—he just hadn’t wanted to sit through it by himself. That’s why he’d
reached out, why he’d wanted Akizawa to keep him company. Maybe he really had
drunk a little too much. Kusuda shut his eyes, and, careful not to let Akizawa
hear, quietly sniffled into the phone.
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