COLD THE FINAL: Chapter 16

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COLD HEART – Beautiful

It was just past 8 p.m. when Kaito Akizawa arrived at John F. Kennedy International Airport. Inside the terminal building, the air conditioning was cranked too high, and he shivered. As he walked briskly toward the taxi stand, he passed a flat-topped man with a Chinese-looking face, speaking in a high-pitched voice into a smartphone.

That reminded him—he dug out his own phone from his daypack and powered it on. The moment it lit up, a call came in. The name on the screen was his manager, Kuma. The timing was so uncanny, it made him wonder if the man had hacked into surveillance cameras around the world just to track his movements.

“Yeah, what?”

He answered, and Kuma let out a sigh over the line. “Finally got through.”

“Where are you right now?” came the voice, tight with anger. On a scale of one to ten, he sounded like an eight—pretty serious.

“You’re not back at the hotel, are you? Don’t tell me you’re in New York.”

“Oh good, so you do know.”

“Akizawa-san.”

Kuma’s voice dropped into the same stern intonation his most hated elementary school teacher used when calling his name. The first time he heard it, he’d thought someone had put a curse on him. He’d told Kuma he hated being called like that, but of course, whenever the manager really wanted to drive him crazy, he used it deliberately.

“Look, I get that it’s an unscheduled break and you’re free to spend your time however you like, but can you at least tell me where you’re going beforehand?”

“New York.”

“That’s not the point! If you don’t tell me in advance, it defeats the purpose. When you suddenly drop off the grid, everyone starts panicking, thinking you’ve been in an accident or caught up in some kind of incident. Don’t make me explain every little thing to you. Whether you realize it or not, you’re a fairly well-known actor even there in the States!”

“I’m alive, though.”

“Yes, I know that. Which is why I’m saying—if you’d just contact me beforehand, I wouldn’t be angry. New York’s far. If filming starts up again suddenly, it’ll take time to get you back. I’d rather you stay a little closer by, but since it’s still unclear whether we’ll resume in a week, I can’t force you. However…”

Kuma’s voice pounded against his eardrum. Akizawa considered hanging up right then and there—but the last time he’d done that, the man had called back again and again like some cursed specter, until eventually he’d been publicly chewed out at the studio in front of everyone. He’d learned—reluctantly—that the best strategy was to just let it all go in one ear and out the other.

He kept quiet, pretending to listen, and eventually Kuma’s impassioned tone began to cool. No one could stay angry forever.

“You’re staying at Kusuda-san’s apartment in New York, right? If filming starts up again, I’ll call you right away, so please keep your phone on you at all times, and make sure the battery doesn’t die. I really don’t want to go through the ordeal of asking Kusuda-san to help find you again.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Also, parts of downtown New York can be dangerous. Please, just be careful.”

Finally—he was officially released from Kuma’s storm of nagging. With an internal sigh of relief, Akizawa shoved his phone back into his daypack.

Outside the terminal, he was immediately wrapped in a dense, muggy layer of air. It must have rained recently; the humidity clung to everything. Even the streetlights looked like they were softly blurred. He flagged down a taxi right away. Occasionally he’d end up in a cab so cold it made him want to yell, Is this a freezer?!, but tonight the A/C was at a tolerable level. When he gave the street and number of Kusuda’s residence, the middle-aged driver—who appeared to be of Indian descent—nodded once and started the car in calm silence.

…That morning, the film he’d been shooting had been halted due to lack of funding. Technically, production was scheduled to resume in a week, but there was no clear plan in place to secure the money. The project had come to him through a fellow actor he knew, and he’d accepted the offer because he liked the script—but Kuma hadn’t been thrilled. The pay was low, which was one thing, but there had already been rumors that the financing was shaky. Kuma had every reason to be cautious. There’d been another project in the past where the foreign director abruptly returned home due to a financial meltdown mid-production, and the entire movie had collapsed. Still, Akizawa had stubbornly insisted on taking the role, and since Kuma also liked the script, he had eventually agreed. As expected, though, the whole thing ran aground. There had been signs from the beginning, so when they announced the pause, it hadn’t come as a surprise. He left the studio with a light-hearted guess I’m on break kind of attitude, headed for the airport, and hopped on a flight to New York.

He wasn’t worried about the film. If it was that producer and that director, they’d find a way to scrape together the money and start up again. Their passion for the script and the project was palpable. The real issue was how the delay would affect the rest of his schedule—but that was Kuma’s problem to solve. For Akizawa, this was an unexpected gift of time off, and he intended to make good use of it.

It was nearly nine p.m. now. Kusuda was probably done with work and back at his apartment by this time. He hadn’t told him he was coming to New York. He wanted to surprise him. He kept picturing the moment Kusuda would open the door, his stunned face blooming into a radiant smile, and Akizawa had already replayed the scene in his head dozens of times, grinning to himself every time.

The last time they’d been together was last month, from July 10th to the 12th—three days, just before filming had started. Kusuda had the 11th off, and when Akizawa clung to him, saying, “We won’t be able to see each other for a while,” and “I’m going to miss you,” Kusuda had let him stay in bed with him all day. Kusuda had books and his laptop in bed, but Akizawa hadn’t touched a thing—just lying next to him had been enough. They’d stayed so close that even the slightest bit of distance between them made him feel lonely, and when he’d admitted that honestly, Kusuda had laughed and said, “What’s gotten into you?” Feeling the warmth of his body, wrapped in that comforting scent—there was nothing better. And that kind of happiness, that sense of peace, only Kusuda could give him.

Kusuda no longer flinched like he used to when touched without warning. He let Akizawa touch his genitals too, even climaxed in his hand, moaning sweetly. But actual penetration was still impossible. Even the accidental brush of Akizawa’s erection against that place made his whole body go rigid.

Akizawa knew exactly how good it could feel, and the urge to connect came over him regularly—but it wasn’t necessary. That wasn’t bravado; he truly meant it. The moment he saw Kusuda’s terrified or tearful face, something inside his chest clenched so tightly he could barely breathe. If seeing him cry was the price, then just sleeping next to him was more than enough. Compared to the despair he’d felt when he thought Kusuda had died, this situation was heaven and then some.

After about forty minutes, they arrived on the street where CRUX—the showroom that doubled as Kusuda’s home—was located. He got out in front of the shuttered shop and told the driver, “Keep the change.” The driver, who looked Indian, muttered a thickly accented “Thank you,” baring his yellowed teeth in a wide grin.

The window on the second floor, Kusuda’s apartment, was dark. It was too early to be asleep; maybe he’d gone out for drinks with someone. Who would that even be…? Akizawa tilted his head, and the first face that came to mind was Jessica’s. She had a sharp tongue and a cocky attitude—he could never imagine truly understanding her. If she weren’t close with Kusuda, she was the kind of woman he’d go his entire life without ever speaking to.

He hoped Kusuda was home. Maybe he was just napping. With that small hope, he pressed the intercom. He could hear the buzzer ringing through the building, but there was no response. He pulled out his phone. After about seven rings, it finally connected.

“Akizawa?”

Just hearing that voice over the phone filled him with a sudden, inexplicable joy.

“Yeah.”

“What’s going on? Why’re you calling out of the blue?”

“Where are you right now?”

“Where…? Uh… do you need something?”

Kusuda answered the question with another question, clearly trying to dodge. A bad feeling began to gnaw at Akizawa.

“You’re not at the apartment.”

“Don’t tell me you came to New York! I thought you were filming through the end of the month. Did you even get Kuma-san’s approval?”

The words came rapid-fire.

“Of course Kuma knows.” He didn’t mention the sermon he’d received at the airport.

“The movie’s on pause due to funding, so I suddenly got time off. Where are you? Are you out having dinner with someone? Maybe having drinks? I’ll come join you.”

No reply. Which meant—

“…So I’m not allowed to come? Is it a work thing? Some client dinner? If I sit in, I’ll smile real nice and tell them, ‘I’m the face of CRUX.’”

Kusuda suddenly asked, “You’re planning to stay at my place, right?” That was always the arrangement when he came to New York—so why was he confirming it this time? Even so, Akizawa replied, “Yeah.”

“I won’t be back at the apartment for a while, but you can use it however you like. I’ll bring you the key now.”

The unease inside him billowed like storm clouds.

“What do you mean, you won’t be back?”

“There’s… stuff going on.”

Kusuda’s answer was vague, evasive.

“Will you be back tomorrow?”

“I’ll be at the office for work, but I can’t stay at the apartment overnight.”

“So it’s not work, then? You’re nearby, right? I’ll come to you.”

“You can’t.”

“No. I will. I don’t want to be apart. I want to be with you.”

Kusuda fell silent for a moment. Then, from somewhere a little farther away, came the voice of his mortal enemy: “Who are you talking to?” And Kusuda answered, “It’s Akizawa… he showed up at the apartment…”

“He came all this way without even calling first? He really hasn’t changed,” Jessica said, her voice cutting through the receiver like a knife.

Listening to their back-and-forth, Akizawa put the pieces together. Kusuda was probably at Jessica’s apartment. From here, he could make it on foot in under ten minutes.

“I’m sorry, Akizawa,” Kusuda said. “I really can’t spend the night with you. So just stay at my place—”

“I’m coming over.”

“You’re coming?”

“You’re at Jessica’s, right? I know the place.”

“You know—hey!”

He ended the call mid-sentence and broke into a run. Even as night deepened, New York didn’t sleep. The trains were still running, the main streets still bustling with people and noise.

“Hey, kid—who’s chasing you?” shouted a drunken bystander, but he ignored it, dashing forward with quick, sure footwork. Jessica’s apartment came into view. There was a dark silhouette at the gate. It looked like Kusuda.

No—it was Kusuda. Wearing a green T-shirt and jeans, leaning casually against the front gate of the apartment building.

Akizawa ran right up to him, breath coming in ragged gasps like a panting dog. He couldn’t say a word of what had been running through his mind while sprinting—why Kusuda was at Jessica’s, why he couldn’t go home. Nothing came out. And then, Kusuda suddenly gave a soft, muffled laugh.

“Wh… what’re you laughing for…”

“I just didn’t expect you to come running over so desperately.”

The fact remained: his boyfriend was staying at a woman’s place. Even knowing Jessica was gay and there was no possibility of romance, it still made Akizawa angry that Kusuda allowed someone else—someone not him—to be so close. But watching Kusuda laugh, all those bitter emotions melted away, like ice under warm sunlight.

So he stepped closer, and kissed him. It was his right—as a boyfriend.

Kusuda blinked several times, cheeks tinged with red. He was flustered, but not angry.

“I’ve been staying at Jessica’s since last week.”

“Why?”

Kusuda scratched under his ear, looking awkward.

“I picked up a dog…”

“A dog?”

“It was in front of the store the week before last. Stayed in the same spot for three days straight and started looking weaker, so I took it in. I uploaded a photo with a message saying I was keeping it temporarily on social media, and I put up posters around the neighborhood too, but no owner ever came forward. And then the landlord found out I had the dog in the apartment, got mad, said I was in violation of the lease. I mean, I was already staying at the office unofficially, so I figured this was a good time to find a place where I could have a dog. But I haven’t found anything yet. So until I do, I’ve been crashing at Jessica’s with the dog.”

Akizawa understood the reason. In that case…

“Then why not just leave the dog with Jessica?”

“I did, at first. But it kept crying when I wasn’t there, and Jessica couldn’t sleep. She gave up. So yeah, sorry, but I’ve been staying there with the dog.”

Kusuda explained everything clearly, and Akizawa had no trouble accepting it—but there was something else that bothered him.

“Then why didn’t you tell me you picked up a dog?”

They’d talked on the phone every day while he was filming. And when they couldn’t talk, they’d stayed in touch over social media. Not once had Kusuda mentioned picking up a dog—or that he’d gotten kicked out of his apartment.

“I didn’t tell you on purpose. I figured if the owner turned up, I’d have to give it back. I didn’t want to get too attached, so I didn’t even take any pictures beyond the ones for the poster and for posting online to help find the owner.”

“I would’ve helped you look for them.”

“You say that, but you were in L.A., and you don’t even have a public social media account.”

Akizawa faltered. Kuma had put his foot down: “No interacting with fans or strangers. Absolutely no Twitter, Facebook, or blogs.” He’d added, “You’re exactly the type to say something stupid and cause a scandal.” The only people connected to his private account were Kuma and Kusuda.

“By the time I realized I might end up keeping the dog, I’d already missed the window to bring it up. And let’s be real, I’m a grown man who got kicked out of his apartment for secretly keeping a dog. It’s pathetic.”

“It’s not. Any dog that ends up with you is lucky,” Akizawa said.

Kusuda, who’d been looking down, lifted his head.

“I mean, it’d get to be with you every day, right? I wish I were the dog.”

Kusuda smiled, a little embarrassed. “What does that even mean?”

Akizawa loved that smile. He really, truly did.

“So yeah… that’s how it is. I’m staying at Jessica’s with the dog. I’m really sorry, but you’ll have to use the office apartment.”

Even after fully understanding the situation, he didn’t want to say “okay.” Something in his chest refused to settle.

“I came here thinking we’d be able to talk in person about a bunch of stuff, and now we can’t even be together?”

“I’m sorry.”

“The dog gets to be with you. Why can’t I?”

Kusuda gave a wry smile.

“I’m already imposing by staying there with just the dog. I can’t exactly ask to bring you too—especially since you and Jessica don’t exactly get along.”

It was true. That redheaded woman was his mortal enemy. But being this close to Kusuda and still having to sleep apart—it hurt. On the plane, in the cab from the airport, he’d played out the moment they’d meet again over and over in his mind. The hug, the kiss, the warmth.

“I’ll deal with the redhead. Just throw a cardboard box down somewhere—I’ll sleep anywhere.”

“A cardboard box, really…”

“If I can’t be in the room, then I’ll take the hallway. I don’t care. I just want to be close—even if it’s just a meter.”

Kusuda pressed his palm against his forehead.

“Please, Akizawa, don’t be unreasonable. You’re usually more understanding than this.”

“I’m not being unreasonable. I’m asserting my rights as your boyfriend. If you let me into the house, I don’t care if it’s the attic or the trash bin—I’ll take it.”

Kusuda had been looking troubled, but now he suddenly burst out laughing through his nose.

“The attic? That’s what stalkers say. And what trash bin is big enough for you to fit in, seriously?”

“There are big ones, you know. I could get in if it’s one of those.”

He spread his arms wide to illustrate the size.

“There’s no way Jessica has anything like that.”

Kusuda was talking to him. Laughing. Just seeing that face made Akizawa feel warm and light. He wanted to keep talking like this, all night until morning.

“In the movie I’m filming now, I play this killer who’s always smiling. I think he’s your type.”

“Oh?”

“Yesterday, before a scene, I was talking to Steve—the guy playing the character who gets killed by me. He’s a decent actor, but he doesn’t have the kind of face that can carry a lead role, you know? Anyway, he told me that during the take, he actually felt like he was going to die. Said it was terrifying.”

Kusuda nodded, murmuring “mm-hmm,” while glancing around nervously.

“I want to talk, too,” he said, “but it’s late, and voices really carry at night… If we keep chatting out here, the neighbors might get annoyed.”

“Then want to go to a bar? There’s that one nearby that stays open all night, right?”

While Kusuda hesitated, the apartment door opened behind him. A gust of wind lifted a mass of voluminous hair, and Akizawa recoiled instinctively.

“Good evening,” said the redheaded woman in a tank top and shorts, flashing a smile. Her mouth was shaped into a grin, but her eyes were devoid of expression, making the whole thing quietly terrifying.

“I hear about you all the time from Kusuda, so it doesn’t really feel like it’s been that long. How many years has it been since you performed in that charity stage play? I never got the chance to thank you for that, did I? So—thank you.”

She might be the enemy, but at least she was thorough. She was bringing up something from years ago, just to be polite.

“But anyway, voices outside carry pretty far inside. I’d like you to leave now.”

Kusuda murmured, “Sorry,” but she didn’t seem to hear—or care. Her gaze was fixed firmly on Akizawa, her entire body radiating a prickly, hostile aura. Still, he had to say it.

“Hey… could I stay over too?”

The faint trace of a smile disappeared from her face. Kusuda immediately grabbed his arm.

“You don’t have to go out of your way for me. I can sleep on the floor.”

“Absolutely not.”

Her response snapped like a whip.

“I said the floor’s fine.”

“I don’t care where you sleep—I don’t want you staying here. Are you deaf?”

A vein was pulsing on her forehead, framed in vivid red hair. As Kusuda tried to calm the situation—“Maybe for tonight, you could get a hotel…”—Akizawa cut in.

“You just thanked me for doing that charity stage play, didn’t you? If you really meant it, let me stay here.”

Jessica’s face turned beet red, her slender frame visibly trembling. Even Kusuda, stepping in between them with a “Hey, that’s not fair,” sounded angry. After a suffocating silence, Jessica finally said, “Fine,” her voice dropping to a low, ominous rumble.

“Just looking at you makes my skin crawl, but I’ll let you stay as thanks for that performance. One night only.”

She spat the words and vanished back into the apartment.

“She said yes. That’s a relief.”

Kusuda, still holding his head in both hands, let out a deep sigh. “Please, I’m begging you—just behave. Try to get along.”

The moment he stepped into Jessica’s apartment, light footsteps came pattering across the floor. A puppy shot toward them like a bullet and latched onto Kusuda’s legs, yapping shrilly. With practiced ease, Kusuda scooped the dog into his arms and stroked its head, gazing down at it with a gentle, almost saintly expression.

“Cute, right? I named him Tabby.”

The dog Kusuda had taken in was mottled white, brown, and black like a beagle, but with a face reminiscent of a Doberman—sharp, alert, and a little too intense. Probably a mutt, given how mixed his features were.

Tabby was licking Kusuda’s face with the kind of desperate enthusiasm usually reserved for candy. Every bit of the puppy’s little body radiated “Kusuda, I love you I love you I love you!” It was no wonder he was obsessed with Kusuda—so was Akizawa, after all.

He cautiously reached out a hand toward his fellow Kusuda-worshipper. The dog jolted, and in the next second, pain shot through Akizawa’s right hand. “Ow—!” he yelped, yanking it back. A small puncture had opened near the base of his thumb, and blood was beginning to well up.

“You okay?” Kusuda looked genuinely concerned, but the brat of a puppy bared its teeth and growled at him like a tiny thug.

“If you get hurt like that, won’t it mess with filming?”

As long as the wound closed up, it would be fine. Even if there was a close-up of his hands, makeup could take care of it. He didn’t want to worry Kusuda, but more than that, he wanted attention—more than the dog was getting. So he put on a solemn expression and said, “It might be kind of bad.”

“Should we go to a hospital? We still can—”

Before Kusuda could work himself into a panic, Jessica appeared soundlessly at his side like a shadow. She peered at the bite and scoffed, “That’s nothing. Looks like a mosquito bite.” Then, as if it were obvious: “Just slap a bandage on it. You can cover that with makeup no problem.”

Kusuda asked, “Is that true?” and with Jessica right there, Akizawa couldn’t lie. Still, he made sure to keep his voice a little pitiful. “It’s probably okay. Just stings a bit…”

Looking relieved, Kusuda set the dog down. Tabby immediately began yapping again, so Kusuda scooped him back up, at which point the barking stopped. The way the dog got exactly what it wanted out of Kusuda was irritating to watch.

“Tabby’s really glued to you, huh.”

Jessica looked exasperated.

“When I first brought him in, he kept whining all the time. He looked so sad, I couldn’t help myself—I started letting him sleep in bed with me. And I’ve been feeding him, too, so I guess he sees me as his parent now.”

Kusuda gently stroked the puppy’s back as it rubbed its nose affectionately against him.

“If you keep spoiling him, you’ll never be able to handle him when he gets older. You’ll end up with a disobedient monster—like that shameless, inconsiderate idiot standing over there.”

She glared at Akizawa, making sure he knew exactly who she was talking about, then swept out of the room. Alone with Kusuda at last… but he couldn’t get close. Tabby bared his teeth and growled whenever he approached. Just like old times, he had to stay at least two meters away.

“Maybe it’s time to put the dog down?”

“If he starts barking, Jessica will get mad. If I hold him a little longer, he’ll probably settle and fall asleep. That’s how it was last night, too.”

There was no sign Kusuda intended to put the dog down. That little demon spawn was perched on Kusuda’s lap like royalty, tail wagging with smug satisfaction. If no one were looking, Akizawa would have picked him up and tossed him right out the nearest window.

“How long is your break again?”

Kusuda asked as he idly stroked the dog.

“They said a week, but I already got a message saying the restart is up in the air. I’ve got a feeling Kuma’s going to throw something else at me soon. You’re off tomorrow, right? It’s Saturday.”

“I…”

Before he could finish, Jessica returned to the living room and flung a cotton blanket at him with a snap.

“You’ll be sleeping on that sofa.”

He’d been prepared to sleep on the floor, so at least she was treating him like a human being.

“Kusuda, you should head to bed. You’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

She placed a gentle hand on Kusuda’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I should.”

“You have plans tomorrow?”

Akizawa couldn’t help feeling a pang of anxiety. They had the day off together—shouldn’t that mean they’d be spending it together?

“Jessica’s coming with me to look at rental properties.”

He opened his mouth to say he’d come too, but she must’ve anticipated it, because she immediately cut in with a firm, “You’re not coming.”

“Landlords won’t want to rent out a place if they see the tenant’s friends include a semi-famous actor. Most people hear ‘actor’ and immediately think wild parties, drugs, broken furniture, noise complaints. It’s a red flag.”

Jessica grabbed Kusuda’s arm.

“And with you here, he won’t be able to get any rest. He’ll just end up stuck talking to you all night.”

The dog hated him and barked whenever he got close, but not a single growl or bared tooth was ever directed at Jessica. It was like a three-against-one formation. Kusuda, tugged gently but firmly by Jessica’s hand, stood up from the sofa.

“It’s late. You’re probably tired too. You should rest. I’m going to.”

Kusuda would be sleeping in another room. With Jessica. And the dog. Together.

“Um…”

Akizawa spoke up hesitantly.

“Can I sleep in the same room too?”

“Sorry, the bed’s too small,” came Jessica’s cold, clipped reply. No room for discussion.

“I don’t need the bed. I’ll take the floor. I just want to sleep in the same room as Kusuda.”

Jessica let out a deliberate sigh. When Kusuda started to say, “Then I’ll sleep on the sofa too—” she shut him down instantly.

“No. You won’t get any proper rest in that tiny armchair. I already let him into the house—don’t indulge his escalating demands any more than that. Letting him sleep in the same room? Absolutely not.”

“Right?” she added, looming over them with her usual intimidating glare.

“Kusuda’s been working hard all day. Don’t you want him to get a full night’s sleep?”

Akizawa faltered. Well… yeah, but…

“If you really care about Kusuda, then obviously the best thing for him is to sleep well in his bed. Whatever you want to talk about can wait—tomorrow, or the day after. There isn’t anything so urgent it has to be said tonight, is there?”

“…No, but…”

“Good. Then we’re heading to bed. Goodnight.”

Jessica grabbed Kusuda, who fumbled out a confused “Eh?” and “Ah…” as she dragged him from the room. And on their way through the hall, she made a show of flicking off the living room lights with a snap, leaving him in the dark.

Alone, with nothing but the pale blue blanket and a thick fog of rejection. Jessica’s words had cornered him cleanly, shut him down without mercy. He’d come all this way just to be left out in the cold.

He wanted to be near Kusuda—but not like this. And yet, Jessica wasn’t wrong, either… Kusuda’s just ten meters away, he told himself, trying to take comfort in the thought. He flopped onto the sofa, pulled the blanket over his head, and closed his eyes. If he just fell asleep, morning would come. But he couldn’t. He’d slept on the plane, and now his thoughts were full of Kusuda.

A crushing loneliness began to bloom inside him. He couldn’t take it anymore. Quietly, he slipped through the hallway until he reached the door to the bedroom. The dog must have been asleep—he didn’t hear a sound. But there were voices, murmuring. He pressed his ear to the door, but couldn’t make out the words. Just voices—soft, hushed.

Only a few centimeters of wood separated him and Kusuda. He wanted to go in. To be held. Most of the time, when they were far apart, he could manage. But this close, it was unbearable. He just wanted to be near. On the floor was fine—he just wanted to be beside Kusuda. And yet, in front of him stood Jessica and the dog, like an immovable wall.

He couldn’t open the door—but he also couldn’t walk away. Akizawa slid down the wall across from the bedroom and sat, then slowly lay down along the floor. It was lonelier on the sofa. Here in the hallway, where Kusuda was just on the other side of the door, the feeling of distance faded slightly.

…He stirred as something gently jostled him, and slowly opened his eyes. There was a dark shape hovering—Kusuda, crouched beside him, backlit by the dim hallway light, peering down.

“I thought you’d collapsed. Don’t sleep in a place like this. Go lie down on the sofa.”

“…I want to stay here. I’m staying right here.”

He shook his head firmly. But Kusuda took him by the arm and pulled. Reluctantly, he got up and let himself be led back into the living room, where he was pushed down onto the sofa. His body sank into the soft spring of the cushion, and a blanket was gently laid over him. Kusuda leaned over and rubbed his back through the fabric, murmuring, “It’s still the middle of the night.”

“I was just going to get some water and saw you lying out there. It freaked me out.”

Kusuda let out a little yawn.

“I’m gonna sleep a bit more. You should too.”

Akizawa reached out, gripping his gentle hand tightly, not wanting to let it go.

“…Stay with me.”

Kusuda sighed quietly, then sat down heavily on the floor and gave him a helpless look.

“Come on, think about my situation a little. I’m already imposing enough staying here with Jessica—I can’t stretch it further.”

Akizawa pulled the hand he was holding up near his face and licked the tip of Kusuda’s index finger.

“What, are you pretending to be a dog now?”

Kusuda laughed. But when Akizawa traced his tongue around the finger in a more deliberately sensual way, his smile vanished, and even in the dim light, his cheeks flushed.

“I want to kiss you.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Please kiss me. I’ve been thinking about you ever since I left L.A.—thinking how much I wanted to kiss you.”

Kusuda hesitated, but then he planted both hands on the sofa and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. That was all, but it filled Akizawa’s mouth with the sweetness of happiness.

“Go to sleep already.”

He brushed his fingers gently across Akizawa’s cheek as if to calm him.

“I want to stay awake and look at your face.”

He laced their fingers together and held tight. Just touching him like this made his chest feel warm and full. A smile naturally crept to his lips.

“Kusuda, I love you.”

“…Yeah.”

“I love you like crazy. So, so much.”

“I know.”

“That dog’s way too clingy with you. It’s annoying.”

Kusuda gave him a look of exasperation.

“Are you seriously jealous of a dog?”

“I wanna cling to you too.”

“You’re right here, aren’t you?”

“I wanna cling more.”

“If someone your size tried to cling like Tabby, it’d be suffocating.”

Even as they joked, he didn’t let go of Kusuda’s hand. Kusuda replied with murmured responses between yawns, and before long, his head tipped sideways and he fell asleep, leaning against the sofa.

The tension in his fingers loosened, and soft, even breathing rose from his chest. They looked like the perfect frame from a carefully composed film—beautiful, complete. Everything was here.

Kusuda eventually slid down and curled up on the floor. Akizawa joined him, pulling the blanket over Kusuda and wrapping around him from behind. There was no space between them, not even a sliver. He kissed Kusuda’s forehead and breathed in his scent. Gazing at his soft-looking cheeks, at the faint freckles dotting his skin, Akizawa let himself be pulled into a warm, gentle sleep.

◇:-:◆:-:◇  

“A sprain, huh… poor Jessica.”

Catherine, the real estate agent, shrugged her shoulders and shook her head in an exaggerated arc. Judging by appearances, she was probably in her late forties. She glanced briefly at them and asked, “Mr. Kusuda, and this person with you?”

“He’s a friend of mine visiting from L.A. I thought I’d have him tag along for the viewing,” Kusuda replied.

Akizawa offered a polite smile and said, “Akizawa. Nice to meet you.” He was wearing a platinum-blond wig, thin-framed glasses, and mimicking his co-star Steve’s Southern drawl. Like this, no one would recognize him as the actor “Kaito Akisawa.”

“Man, I must be lucky to get a gorgeous agent like you showing me around. I’m just the peanut gallery today, but I appreciate it,” he added, laying on a light, breezy, vaguely Latin-tinged Asian persona for good measure. Catherine said, “Thank you,” but her wary expression didn’t relax. Maybe he’d overdone it a bit.

“The property is nearby. The viewing’s already started, so let’s get going,” she said, taking the lead. They followed a few paces behind.

That morning, Jessica had slipped in the hallway and twisted her right ankle. She’d been in a lot of pain, so they’d taken her to the hospital, where the diagnosis came back as a sprain. Originally, Kusuda and Jessica had arranged with Catherine to get a private viewing of the house before the official time, but with Jessica’s injury, they had to cancel. In the end, Kusuda came alone in the afternoon to see the house along with the rest of the group. Of course, Akizawa had tagged along—or rather, he’d begged to. Jessica had insisted, “Absolutely not,” but when he swore, “I’ll disguise myself properly!” and borrowed her cosmetics and accessories to transform into someone unrecognizable, she fell silent with a spectacularly sour look.

“Oh, and by the way,” Catherine said, turning back toward them, “the landlord for this place is half Japanese. A lot of landlords are reluctant to rent to foreigners, but since you’re Japanese, Mr. Kusuda, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble. The area’s not too bad safety-wise, and it’s got a yard—great for keeping a dog.”

Kusuda nodded firmly. Off to the right, they caught a glimpse of the Hudson River. On the walkway nearby, an old man in a polo shirt was leisurely walking his dog. A younger man jogged past them, overtaking both. The lingering heat of late summer still clung to the air, but the breeze off the river felt pleasantly cool.

“Walking Tabby along the river would feel really nice,” Kusuda murmured.

Say that about your boyfriend instead of the dog, Akizawa thought. He tugged at the cuff of Kusuda’s shirt in protest. “What is it?” Kusuda asked, tilting his head. Annoyed by his oblivious expression, Akizawa tugged again—but still, Kusuda only said, “Are you playing or something?” completely missing the point.

Since coming to New York—no, even before that—Kusuda had filled one hundred percent of Akizawa’s thoughts. But in Kusuda’s head, there were all kinds of things—dogs, houses, plans—jostling for space. Of course Akizawa had a place in there too, but it was definitely smaller than the share Kusuda held in his own mind.

He wanted to be loved more. He wanted Kusuda to think about him more. But it was hard to say out loud. Compared to back when he hadn’t even been allowed to stand near him, the fact that he now had a place in Kusuda’s life was already a miracle. And yet… sometimes he forgot about that miracle. Because Kusuda smiled at him so naturally now, treated him so gently, that it almost felt like the past had never happened.

As they walked, the river slipped out of view and a residential neighborhood came into sight. The area was lined with older homes. Catherine came to a stop in front of one of them, a house with a yard.

“This is the property,” she said, pointing at the house.

Kusuda let out a soft, “Wow.”

“It’s pretty big,” he added.

Catherine made a face that said she couldn’t quite agree. From a Japanese perspective, it was a fairly sizable home, but compared to the surrounding houses, it was actually on the smaller side—though it did have a garage.

“The yard’s big, and the grass looks great. My parents’ house had a tiny yard, so I’ve always kind of admired places like this,” Kusuda said, eyes sparkling as he looked over the property. While he was admiring the house, a young man and woman and a middle-aged man stepped out from the front door. The three of them wandered about the yard, inspecting it. Looking closely, Akizawa could also see figures passing by inside the windows—there were clearly other viewers inside.

“There are a lot of people here for the viewing,” Kusuda commented.

“That’s actually not many,” Catherine said with a jerk of her chin. “These days, some people choose to live in Brooklyn, but plenty still say ‘no way’ to anything across the bridge. But if it’s a Manhattan apartment on the market? People will be lining up wall to wall.”

Kusuda gave a wry little smile and a soft “I see.” Prompted by Catherine, they entered the house as well. The kitchen and plumbing fixtures were old, but well maintained and still functioning. You could tell the previous tenants had cared for the home and treated it with respect.

Akizawa himself didn’t care much about houses. As long as it kept out the heat and the cold, and gave him a place to stretch out and sleep, that was enough. Looking at this one, all he thought was Kinda old, and that was it. Kusuda, on the other hand, was full of curiosity, noting things like “I like the way the stair railing feels” or “These wooden window frames are so retro,” as he took in the little details. When they stepped into a corner room on the second floor and found it temporarily empty, Akizawa flopped down on top of the faded patchwork bedspread.

“Hey, can you even do that?” Kusuda asked, looking at him with a slightly uneasy expression.

“There was someone relaxing on the sofa downstairs, right? I think lying down a little is fine. Come on, lie down next to me.”

Even with the invitation, Kusuda looked out the window and said, “I’ll pass.” Lying on his back, Akizawa stared blankly upward until something on the ceiling caught his eye. The shape was strange. What was that? He frowned, puzzled—and then, suddenly, it made sense.

“Hey, close the curtains.”

“What is it?”

“Just do it, quick.”

Kusuda grumbled a little—“Seriously, what now?”—but got up to close them. As expected.

“Hey, come lie down next to me.”

Even in the dim light, Akizawa could see Kusuda’s cheeks flush red.

“What the hell are you thinking?”

“I don’t mean anything dirty. You can see constellations on the ceiling. It’s kind of cool.”

Kusuda scrubbed at his face as if trying to erase the blush, then sat down on the floor at the foot of the bed with his knees pulled to his chest. He rested his head against the mattress and looked up. His lips parted slightly, and the corners of his mouth lifted. “That’s the Big Dipper,” he said, chuckling.

“Maybe they stuck little glow-in-the-dark pins up there. It’s cute. Maybe this used to be a kid’s room.”

Akizawa reached out and tapped Kusuda on the shoulder.

“Hm? What?”

“Give me your hand.”

When Kusuda offered it up, Akizawa took it and drew it close, then pressed a soft kiss to his palm. Kusuda quickly pulled it back in surprise.

“Don’t do that. Someone might come in.”

“I wanted a proper kiss, but figured I’d get scolded, so I settled for your palm.”

Kusuda stared at the kissed palm for a while, opening and closing his hand like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Then he looked up and let out a slow breath.

“I like this house. It’s nice.”

“It’s kind of old, though.”

“That’s what’s nice about it. The handmade tapestry and the bed cover—feels like something out of a grandma’s house in the countryside. I get the feeling this was a happy home.”

Kusuda’s eyes were distant, as if he were looking far beyond the room. They stayed like that for a while, just the two of them, gazing up at the stars on the ceiling, until the door suddenly opened. A young blonde woman, likely another viewer, stood frozen at the entrance, startled by the low light and the unexpected presence of people inside.

Kusuda stood and opened the curtains, gave her an apologetic nod, and stepped out of the room. Akizawa followed him. As they descended the stairs, a ringtone chimed from Kusuda’s tote bag. He pulled out his phone, glanced at the screen, and muttered, “A client.”

“I’m going to take this call,” Kusuda whispered to Akizawa, then dashed down the stairs. As he passed a middle-aged woman, their shoulders brushed, and he muttered a quick “Excuse me” in English before stepping outside.

Akizawa made his way out to the yard a few moments later and spotted Kusuda talking on the phone near the wall that bordered the road. Left alone, he decided to kill time by strolling once around the perimeter of the garden. When he came around to the back of the house, just behind the front entrance, he noticed a persimmon tree planted near the fence of the neighboring yard. You almost never saw those in America. The branches were heavy with clusters of unripe green fruit. The landlord was supposed to be half-Japanese—maybe this was their doing...

A rustling sound drew his attention upward. Peeking at him from beyond the fence was a tiny old woman. She was wearing a pale yellow sweatshirt and black pants, her hair white, her skin yellowish, and her face smooth and rounded, distinctly Asian. She had to be around eighty.

When Akizawa gave a polite bow, the woman broke into a wrinkled smile.

“Where are you from?” she asked—in Japanese.

“Tokyo,” he replied. “I live in L.A. now for work. I’m just visiting New York.”

“I see, I see,” she nodded, pleased.

“Are you from Japan too?”

“Yes. I was born in Izumo.”

“The land of the gods. I’ve been to Izumo Taisha for work once. That giant sacred rope was incredible.”

“Oh yes,” she said, eyes narrowing fondly with nostalgia.

“Hey, is that a persimmon tree?” he asked, pointing.

“It is,” she nodded, reaching through the fence to touch one of the fruits.

“Did you used to make hoshigaki—dried persimmons?”

“These are sweet persimmons. You have to use bitter ones for drying.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.”

“Grandma, who are you talking to?”

A girl peeked out from behind the old woman, her skin olive-toned, her eyes blue. She looked like she had Middle Eastern ancestry, but her low nose and almond-shaped eyes gave off a faintly Japanese impression too. She seemed to be in her twenties, but girls here matured fast—some high schoolers could easily pass for adults.

“Oh, Maya, it’s nothing—just… nothing, it’s okay,” the old woman replied in a muddled jumble of English and Japanese. It was like her words had been put through a blender.

The girl—Maya—turned her blue eyes directly to Akizawa and asked in English, “Who are you?”

“I’m here for a house viewing,” he said.

“I see. You were talking with my grandma, right? Are you Japanese?”

“Yeah.”

“Your English is really good. I’m one-quarter Japanese, but I can’t speak it at all. My dad’s not great with it either. Grandma used to speak English too, but she’s been forgetting it lately, so now it’s all Japanese. I feel kind of lonely—we can’t really talk anymore.”

Maya gave the old woman’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“She and Grandpa used to live in that house. After he passed, she started becoming forgetful. Dad said it wasn’t safe for her to be alone, so he brought her over here, and they decided to rent the place out.”

Akizawa’s brain rapidly clicked into gear. So Maya’s father might be the landlord…? If Kusuda could win his favor, he’d probably have a better shot at securing the place.

“I’m just tagging along with a friend who’s interested in the house,” he said.

When he ran up to the fence, Maya blinked at him, clearly startled by the sudden motion.

“The one who wants to rent it is Kusuda—he’s Japanese, and he’s a really good guy.”

“Is that so? Dad was hoping for a family, though…”

Even if the landlord’s preferences didn’t align, this wasn’t the time to play it safe.

“Kusuda speaks Japanese and English, so if Grandma ever says something you don’t understand, he could help. He’s a kind, patient person.”

Apparently, the part about helping her grandmother struck a chord—Maya tilted her head and said, “Oh really?” with a curious spark in her voice.

“He’s solid, too—personally, I mean. He’s a director at CRUX, that accessory brand? He even has a store in Manhattan.”

“Wait, CRUX?!” Maya exclaimed, then quickly slapped a hand over her mouth, clearly embarrassed by her outburst. Her shoulders squirmed with excited energy.

“I love CRUX accessories. A lot of my friends do too. I knew it was a Japanese brand, but…”

“Maya.”

A bear emerged behind her. No, to be precise, a middle-aged man built like a bear stepped forward. Tall, with dark tan skin and a chest so well-developed it practically shouted beneath his T-shirt—he looked like someone who could have been a professional wrestler. Not even as a joke—getting punched by him would probably be fatal.

The bear of a man gave Akizawa a sizing-up stare. Despite the Western body frame, his eyes and nose had a distinct hint of Asia.

“Dad, this guy’s friend wants to rent Grandma’s old house. He’s Japanese—and apparently a director at CRUX! Isn’t that kind of amazing?” Maya said, practically bouncing.

“A director?” the man muttered, eyebrows drawing together.

“I don’t know what this ‘Clacker’ is, but why would a director be looking for a house in Brooklyn instead of Manhattan?”

Fair question, actually.

“CRUX is an accessory brand. Celebrities use it, yeah, but it’s not luxury fine jewelry with precious stones. The pieces are affordable, and it’s not like they’re raking in massive profits. Kusuda has the title of ‘director,’ but honestly, he says it’s mostly in name. He used to live in a little room inside the office building, but they don’t allow dogs there, so now he’s looking for a place where he can keep one.”

The bear-man’s face remained stern and unmoved, arms still folded tight across his chest.

“He’s reliable, kind, down-to-earth. Japanese people don’t really throw parties, so you won’t have to worry about wild backyard ragers. He’d be the ideal neighbor, I promise. His English isn’t perfect, but he can speak it, and of course he’s fluent in Japanese. He’d be a great conversation partner for your mom.”

At that, the man’s harsh expression finally softened, just slightly—the words conversation partner for your mom seemed to make him go “Oh?” internally. Good. That was a crack in the door.

“Kusuda’s a sincere guy. Really warm. He’s moving because he took in an abandoned puppy he found outside his shop, and the landlord wouldn’t let him keep it in his old place.”

What else—what more could he say to boost Kusuda’s appeal?

“The place you’re renting out? I thought it was kind of small, and the layout and facilities felt old, but Kusuda loved that retro feel. Oh, and there’s a kid’s room upstairs, right? At night, constellations glow on the ceiling. When he saw that, Kusuda said, ‘This must’ve been a happy home.’”

Maya chimed in, “If the neighbors are Japanese, Grandma can talk to them. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

Even with her assist, the bear offered no response. His face said I’m not so naive as to trust you just because you talk nicely, even though everything Akizawa had said was true.

“Akizawa?”

Kusuda’s voice cut in at just that moment, threading between the two houses as he approached.

“I couldn’t find you anywhere. You weren’t answering your phone.”

“Left it at Jessica’s. Don’t need it when I’m with you.”

“What if Kuma-san tries to get in touch?”

“If he can’t reach me, he’ll call you.”

Kusuda sighed, playing at exasperation, then seemed to finally notice the three sets of eyes all fixed on them. In English, he offered a polite, “Hello.”

“Do you know these people?” Kusuda asked.

“No,” Akizawa replied.

“But you were talking to them. I figured they might be part of a film crew or something. Didn’t you mention someone who lived in Brooklyn? Like that person who did the window display for the shop a few years ago…”

“Where are you from?” the old woman asked Kusuda in Japanese.

“Me? I’m from Tokyo. I work in Manhattan,” Kusuda answered politely, flashing a warm, open smile.

“I’m looking for a place where I can have a dog, and the house next door happened to be up for rent, so I came to take a look.”

“…I see. Do you like persimmons?”

“I love them.”

“There’s a persimmon tree right there. In the fall, it produces a ton of fruit.”

She pointed toward the tree.

“Oh, wow. It really is a persimmon tree. That’s great,” Kusuda said, then asked, “Did you come here from Japan?”

“Yes. It’s been… sixty years, maybe.”

“That’s a long time. I’ve only been here about ten years myself.”

A bead of sweat that had formed on Kusuda’s brow trickled down his cheek.

“…Would you two like to come inside for something cold to drink? It’s been so long since I had someone to talk to in Japanese.”

It was a perfect opportunity to get on her good side. Akizawa’s expression immediately brightened—Yes please!—but Kusuda, ever the polite one, apologized.

“Thank you, but I’m here with someone from the real estate agency…”

“Ahh, what a shame. I really would’ve liked to talk more,” she said with downcast eyes.

“My husband’s passed, and most of the people I knew are gone, too…”

At that, Kusuda gently offered, “If it’s not a bother, may I come visit you another time? I don’t often get the chance to speak Japanese with someone here, either.”

“Of course. Come by whenever you like,” she said with a smile. The two of them, beaming at each other, looked for all the world like a real grandmother and grandson.

“There you are! Thank goodness,” Catherine called out as she came around from the back of the house.

“I couldn’t find either of you—I thought maybe you’d left. But when I asked Jessica, she said, ‘Kusuda isn’t the kind of person to leave without saying something.’ And she was right, wasn’t she? Were you able to see enough of the inside?”

Then, noticing the neighbors gathered nearby, Catherine offered a cheerful “Hello.”

“You’re the realtor?” the bear of a man, who’d been silent until now, addressed her.

“Yes, that’s right. I’m not in charge of this property specifically, but I’m supporting Kusuda. It’s a lovely area. The river and the park are so close.”

“Yeah… hot today, huh. If you’d like, why don’t the two of you come in and have something cold to drink with us?” the man offered.

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Catherine said, clasping her hands together. “I was just getting thirsty, too.”

The bear of a man turned to Kusuda and Akizawa. “I understand some Japanese,” he muttered. “Can’t speak it, though.”

“Go inside and talk to the old lady for a bit… All that stuff about the contract can come after.”

Catherine and Kusuda both tilted their heads in confusion. Akizawa, however, caught the slight smile tugging at the corners of the bear-man’s mouth—and knew. This is it. We’ve got it.

On the day of the viewing, Kusuda signed the lease with the landlord—Ralph Ichiro Brown—and was set to move in three days later. Someone from the real estate agency was present, so the paperwork went smoothly. Ralph had originally been hoping for a family to rent the place, but in the end, it was his mother, Sawako, taking a liking to Kusuda that sealed the deal.

On moving day, Kusuda borrowed a truck from Jessica’s friend Todd, and all the furniture was brought in that same afternoon. Since the place he’d been living in before was tiny and he didn’t have much stuff, it only took three trips to get it all done.

Kusuda drove the truck himself, and as a thank-you to Todd and Jessica for helping out, he picked up a massive order of sandwiches from Rob’s shop and invited the Brown family next door to join them for a little sandwich party in the backyard. Because Akizawa had been in disguise during the house viewing, the Browns didn’t recognize him at the party as the “friend” from that day. He had to explain himself all over again and reintroduce himself.

Maya’s friends also came by, and the party quickly became lively. With Kusuda and Jessica to chat with, even Sawako looked delighted. Ralph, too, commented with a rare softening of his gruff, bearish face, “It’s been a long time since I saw my mother look that happy.”

Ralph, built like a professional bouncer, was actually a gym instructor and a former football player. He’d lost his wife five years ago and was raising two daughters. Maya, the one who’d first spoken with Akizawa, was the elder of the two and worked at a general store in Brooklyn.

Jessica had taken one look at Maya, with her exotic beauty—clearly a mix of several ethnic backgrounds—and immediately lit up. The way she talked to Maya was so unnaturally enthusiastic it was almost uncomfortable. Apparently, Jessica was currently single and making a shameless play, though Maya seemed entirely oblivious. When Akizawa overheard Jessica later muttering to Kusuda, “I guess there’s no chance,” he couldn’t help but feel a tiny flicker of serves you right.

The easygoing gathering had started in the evening and wrapped up around 10 p.m. Everyone eventually said their goodbyes and went home, but Jessica—reeling from a one-sided “love at first sight,” the sudden revelation that Maya had a boyfriend, and her “dreams crushed” all in the span of a few hours—had downed wine like water and ended up totally plastered. She was in such bad shape that even getting her into a cab was out of the question, so they laid her down on the living room sofa and let her sleep it off there. The rest of the house was still piled high with unpacked boxes and hadn’t been cleaned yet, so the living room was the only reasonably habitable space available.

Akizawa and Kusuda went up to the second-floor kid’s room. This bright, sunlit space was the one Kusuda had decided to use as his bedroom. He’d already ordered a new bed, but it hadn’t arrived in time, so for now he was stuck using the old single bed that came with the house. Originally, Kusuda had said, “It’s a single—it’s too narrow. You should sleep on the sofa downstairs.” But since Jessica had claimed it, the two of them ended up sharing the bed.

“Ugh, I’m beat. I’m really feeling my age. Carrying all that stuff around wiped me out,” Kusuda groaned, lying sprawled out across the bed, kneading his left shoulder with his right hand.

“My shoulder’s so stiff,” he muttered, exhaling deeply and closing his eyes.

“Want a massage?”

Kusuda cracked one eye open, gave him a long look, then slowly sat up.

“What should I do?”

“Just stay like that.”

Akizawa kicked off his shoes and climbed up onto the bed, positioning himself behind Kusuda on his knees. He placed both hands on his shoulders and pressed. The muscles beneath were taut and knotted.

“Yeah, you’re seriously stiff,” he said, pushing his fingers gradually deeper into the muscle. About three years ago, when he’d filmed an action movie, the Japanese trainer on set had taught him various ways to maintain and release physical tension.

“Ah, that’s the spot,” Kusuda said, stretching his neck. With every dig of Akizawa’s fingers, Kusuda let out small groans—“Ugh,” or “That’s good”—until, suddenly, he let out a quiet laugh.

“What?”

“I was just thinking… how much would it cost, hourly, to have a top-tier actor give you a shoulder rub?”

“Don’t worry—I let people run up a tab.”

Kusuda laughed. “So I gotta pay later, huh?”

It had been a long time since the two of them had spent a night alone together. The dumb mutt that had started this whole move—Tabby—was cowering inside a cardboard box at the bottom of the stairs. No matter how much Kusuda called, the dog just whimpered sadly and refused to come out. He seemed panicked by the unfamiliar house. Kusuda had ended up stuffing his favorite blanket into the box with him, placing a bowl of water nearby, and scratching his head, saying, “Well, it’s his first day. I guess he’ll need time to adjust.”

After loosening the tension in his shoulders, Akizawa gave them a light double tap to signal he was finished. “Thanks. That really helped,” Kusuda mumbled, then flopped back onto the bed and didn’t move an inch. He looked like he might fall asleep just like that.

“If you’re going to sleep, maybe take a shower first?” Akizawa suggested.

Kusuda stayed silent for a few seconds, then sat up with a groan. “Yeah, you’re right,” he muttered, glancing around. “Where’d I put the towels?” He got off the bed, peered at the scribbled notes on the sides of the stacked cardboard boxes, found the one he was looking for, grabbed some underwear and a towel, and headed off to shower.

Left alone, Akizawa lay flat on his back in the narrow bed, staring absently at the ceiling. After a moment, he remembered the stars. He reached for the light switch and turned it off. On the ceiling above, constellations glowed softly into view. That cheap little plastic planetarium shimmered with gentle happiness. …Honestly, when Kusuda had said it was beautiful, Akizawa hadn’t really gotten it. But if Kusuda said it was happiness, then it probably was. He’d decided to believe in that.

…The bed shifted, and he woke with a start. He’d dozed off without realizing.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?”

Kusuda’s voice came from the dark.

“I was trying to get in without waking you, but yeah… this single’s cramped.”

Akizawa sat up halfway, yawning softly.

“Should I sleep downstairs?”

“Forget it. Jessica’s out cold. Snoring like a bear. Not gonna happen.”

Kusuda clearly thought Akizawa meant the living room couch, but he’d been planning to sleep right there on the kid’s room floor. When Kusuda nudged him—“Since you’re up, go take a shower too”—he obeyed, then returned to the room. He quietly started laying out flattened cardboard boxes along the floor, and Kusuda, sprawled on his stomach on the bed, raised his head and asked, “What are you doing?”

“Thought I’d use these as a makeshift bed.”

A pause.

“…You can sleep up here.”

Akizawa turned. Kusuda, still lying down, was watching him.

“It’s small, though,” Akizawa said.

“If we stick to the edges, we’ll manage.”

Kusuda shuffled toward the wall, making space. He’d made room just for Akizawa. He’d invited him. Wanting to be near, to talk, to share the quiet, Akizawa slipped into the spot carved out for him.

Their shoulders touched. Two grown men, lying side by side, faces down, arms brushing—it was ridiculous, and somehow funny. He couldn’t help but laugh. Kusuda started laughing too, and warmth bloomed between them.

“I’m glad you got this place,” Akizawa said.

“Yeah,” Kusuda murmured, eyes crinkling.

“The Browns next door are nice, too. Sawako-san… she reminds me of my grandma. Especially when she smiles.”

Akizawa reached out and touched the corner of Kusuda’s eye. Kusuda tilted his head. “What?”

“Your eyes are soft. Kind.”

“What kind of comment is that?”

His fingers trailed down, brushing Kusuda’s cheek. Kusuda’s lips curved gently, like a spoiled pup getting petted.

“You were funny today,” Akizawa said.

“What part?”

“You sounded like Grandma Sawako, mixing Japanese and English like a blender.”

Kusuda groaned and buried his now-red face into the sheets.

“Don’t bring that up.”

He’d been trying to keep the languages straight—Japanese with Sawako, Jessica, and Akizawa; English with Ralph and Maya. But as the night wore on, the wires had started to cross. Soon he was saying things like ‘That’s amazing’ in Japanese, or responding in Japanese to English speakers, sending his whole language system into chaos.

“It’s easier when everyone speaks English,” Kusuda muttered. “I stay focused. But when there’s a lot of Japanese, I let my guard down. Speaking of, Ralph said your English pronunciation is like a native’s.”

“Am I amazing or what?”

“Yeah, amazing. So amazing,” Kusuda said flatly, and turned his back.

Akizawa grinned. That little sulk was adorable. The sweetness in his chest bloomed—like biting into a tart berry. He pressed close against Kusuda’s turned back. The warmth of his body seeped into him. From the nape of his neck, Akizawa could breathe in the scent of the man he loved so much.

“…The room next to this one—it’s empty now, right?”

Kusuda murmured the words quietly.

“It used to be full of boxes,” Akizawa replied.

“Ralph cleared it out. You can use it however you like.”

“You’re giving me a room?”

His voice rose with surprise.

“I just thought… when you come here, it might be nice to have a space where you can be alone when you need to.”

“Mm…”

Maybe his tone didn’t sound especially enthusiastic, because Kusuda added, “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

Moved by the thoughtfulness behind it, Akizawa wrapped his arms tightly around him.

“I want to be with you in this house. I don’t need a separate room.”

“But, you know… somewhere to put your clothes, or a quiet place to go over lines, that kind of thing?”

“I’ll just stuff my clothes in your closet.”

“You’re hopeless,” Kusuda sighed, tapping the arms wound around his stomach. Then, after a pause, “Well… whatever,” he said, letting it go with a breath.

After that, the conversation faded, and the room fell into a comfortable silence. The shower had woken him up, so Akizawa found his thoughts drifting. He’d never cared much about where he lived, or what kind of place it was—but the yard… the yard, he liked. Especially that big tree on the south side. That one, he liked.

He didn’t feel sleepy yet, and figured it wouldn’t hurt to speak up. “Hey,” he said.

A soft “Yeah?” came back.

“Can I hang a hammock from the tree in the yard? I want to take naps there.”

Kusuda let out a quiet laugh. “Sure.”

“And I want to plant avocado, lemon, and berry trees. Is that okay? …Todd—you know, the guy who drove the truck when we moved—he said with a yard this big, if we plant a bunch of trees along the fence, they’ll work like a natural border. Plus they grow fruit on their own, and they’re tasty.”

“Ask Ralph. If he says it’s okay, then fine. Seriously though, whose house is this supposed to be again?” Kusuda muttered, half-exasperated.

“Maya told me, you know. Back during the viewing—you made this passionate pitch about me. Told her dad he absolutely had to rent the house to me because I was a great guy.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“So you liked the house after all.”

“Nope. I didn’t care either way. I just thought, if you liked it, then it’d be nice if we could get it. Ralph was still wary of me even after all that, but once he saw you talking with Sawako, he pretty much changed his mind on the spot. That’s when he realized you were a good guy.”

“You really haven’t changed,” Kusuda murmured.

“I only ever say what I mean.”

“Yeah…”

“I love you.”

Akizawa pressed a kiss to the side of Kusuda’s neck.

“I love you more than anyone else in the world.”

Whispering into his ear, Akizawa felt Kusuda shift to face him. Their eyes met in the dark, so close they could still read each other’s expressions. Kusuda’s hand reached up, brushing back the hair around Akizawa’s ear in a slow, tender stroke. That single gesture said I love you too. He was sure of it.

Akizawa leaned in and kissed him. He wanted to kiss him deeper, hold him tighter, melt into the moment and never come out of it. Murmuring “I love you, I love you,” he kept touching the person he adored more than anyone else, unable to stop. As his fingers moved across Kusuda’s bare skin, their clothes became an obstruction—so he gently removed them. Kusuda was left completely naked, his arousal quietly affirming his desire.

“…Does it feel good when I touch you?” Akizawa asked, voice low.

When Akizawa touched the tip, Kusuda, face flushed deep red, snapped back, “Don’t ask,” clearly embarrassed. But Akizawa only smiled, and with slow, deliberate care, he stroked him—soft, lingering movements that drew out Kusuda’s desire until it spilled over.

Afterward, Kusuda collapsed facedown, completely spent. Akizawa pressed up against his back, curling around him like a baby turtle clinging to its parent’s shell. He hadn’t finished himself yet, so his body still ached with tension. As he moved gently between Kusuda’s legs, seeking some relief, his length brushed against that place—just barely grazing it, but enough to make them both still.

A devilish urge to connect surged up within him. He didn’t want to be rejected. He didn’t want to scare him. Biting down on that craving, he pressed himself tightly against Kusuda’s body, rubbing with a desperate kind of restraint. And then Kusuda’s back shifted.

The motion felt like a silent get off, and Akizawa quickly moved to the side. But instead of turning away, Kusuda rolled onto his back—and pulled him close.

Akizawa leaned over Kusuda, their lips meeting in a slow, reverent kiss. The man he loved more than anyone in the world was beneath him now, legs parted, drawing him in close. The tip of him brushed against that place—and Akizawa realized, if they moved even slightly, if the timing was wrong, he might slip in.

He hesitantly pulled his hips back, trying to put some space between them—but Kusuda responded by pulling him closer again. Their bodies touched, and he could feel that part tremble under him. His throat tightened with a dry, audible swallow. Every instinct screamed to move forward, to join with him, but Akizawa gritted his teeth and drew his hips back once more.

And again, Kusuda pulled him in. It was unbearable. Like some kind of psychological torture—this sweet, gentle push-and-pull that set every nerve alight.

“I want you.”

For a moment, Akizawa thought he was hallucinating, driven to the edge by holding himself back. But when he looked at Kusuda’s face, his eyes were wet with arousal and locked onto his with a longing that silenced every doubt.

“…Sorry, what did you just say?”

Kusuda’s face crumpled into a frustrated, bashful mess. “Don’t make me say it twice, you idiot.”

“Please… say it again.”

He couldn’t afford to be wrong. If he misread this moment and pushed ahead and it led to rejection—if that was the reason he lost Kusuda—he wouldn’t survive it. He meant it. He’d rather cut it off than make that mistake.

“I want you… I want us to be connected.”

The words were clear. He heard them, truly heard them. It felt like a dream. A dream so sweet it terrified him. He was happy—so much that it hurt—but he was also scared. What if, by entering him, he broke Kusuda? What if he ruined something irreparable?

Even with permission, his hips faltered. It took more than permission—it took courage.

◇:-:◆:-:◇  

A sharp creak from the bed pulled him out of sleep. He turned in the dark, bumping into a warm body. When he opened his eyes, they stung with that vague, burning ache that came from restless rest. The room was bathed in a pale bluish light, and Kusuda was half-sitting, looking down at him.

After all these years… they had finally made love again.

He had entered Kusuda carefully, slowly, mindful not to scare him. But when he realized Kusuda was feeling it too, when he felt that he wasn’t going soft, the restraint snapped. He thrust into him again and again, and the thought flashed through his mind—I never want to leave this body again.

Now, wanting to be close, he nestled his face against Kusuda’s thigh, arms winding around his waist like a snake. Fingers stroked his hair, gentle and grounding.

“…I kept thinking I might panic again halfway through, but it just… happened. It came back to me. This is what it felt like, being with you,” Kusuda murmured, still playing with his hair.

“It’s really nothing that special. Just sex,” he added softly.

Kusuda’s voice, uncharacteristically harsh, cut through the quiet. A warm splash hit Akizawa’s cheek. When he looked up, he saw tears spilling in torrents from Kusuda’s eyes, streaming down and raining across his face—his heart nearly stopped.

“W–Why are you crying?”

Panicked, he sat up and reached for Kusuda’s ear as he bowed his head.

“Was it bad? Did I scare you? I don’t have to do anything you don’t want. But… last night you said you wanted me…”

Kusuda suddenly looked up—and slapped him across the face. Akizawa’s head reeled, and before he could understand what was happening, Kusuda had pulled him into a tight embrace. Still crying, he pounded weakly on Akizawa’s back. It hurt—but in between the slaps, he kept holding on. Nothing made sense. He couldn’t tell what was right or wrong anymore, and his brain spun in confusion. But even so, in that moment, he felt wanted—so he clung to him.

“Don’t hurt me anymore,” Kusuda whispered.

Akizawa nodded.

“Don’t hurt anyone.”

He didn’t really understand, but he nodded again. Maybe it just meant: don’t make people cry, don’t do what people hate. He kissed Kusuda’s tear-streaked face. Whispered “I love you” between kisses. Kusuda let out a shaky breath and scrubbed the wetness from his eyes with the back of his hand.

“…When I was signing the rental contract,” he said with a faint laugh, “I was actually thinking—I’ll set up a room for you.”

He gave a dry chuckle. “There were times when just being in the same room with you stressed me out like hell.”

“I’ve blended in now? Like a piece of furniture?” Akizawa joked.

“I have no idea what that means,” Kusuda muttered, looking down.

“But… I guess somewhere along the way, it just became normal having you around,” he said softly.

The tension that had always clung to Kusuda’s body—even in moments of affection—had lifted. Now he felt soft, like he’d finally been released from some invisible pressure. That gentleness, that softness, felt like the most exquisite dessert, and Akizawa couldn’t help but kiss him. Once wasn’t enough. He kissed him over and over.

“You know, making out with you feels really good.”

He said exactly what he felt. Even though they’d already kissed so many times, he still wanted more. Desire began to rise again. Kusuda noticed and looked up at him, clearly unsure.

“…It kind of hurts, so I don’t think I can anymore.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to do anything.”

Still burning with need, Akizawa kissed him with passion, rubbing himself in his own hand. The rest of the world faded, and it felt like just the two of them existed now. As their arousal flared together, Kusuda began to tremble, and Akizawa reached between them, wrapping his hand around both of them, stroking them as one.

They came almost at the same time. Kusuda whimpered with soft cries, his hips trembling with aftershocks, tears spilling again as if in release. Akizawa kissed those tears, devouring them with fervent lips—until the creak of a door suddenly split the moment.

He turned in a panic.

Jessica stood in the doorway, frozen, holding Tabby in her arms.

“A–Ah… Jessica…” Kusuda stammered, face flushed deep red, quickly wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes.

“…What the hell are you doing to Kusuda?”

Her voice was low, like the rumble of a double bass, and aimed squarely at Akizawa.

“Depending on your answer… I might just kill you.”

It didn’t sound like a joke.

“Jessica, it’s okay. I–I wanted it. He didn’t force me. Really…”

Even with his tear-stained face and trembling voice, Kusuda tried to defend him, but it only made it sound worse.

“You don’t have to protect scum like that!”

As expected, Jessica didn’t believe a word.

“It’s really okay. I’m sorry for worrying you all this time…”

If she didn’t believe it, then I’d show her the truth.

Akizawa pulled Kusuda close and cupped the back of his head.

“Wait—what are you…?”

Whispering I love you again and again between sweet kisses, Akizawa pulled Kusuda even closer. Kusuda’s soft arousal rubbed against his stomach, and a small, sweet breath escaped his lips.

“I’m going home,” Jessica declared in a bass-like growl, shut the door behind her, and left Tabby in the room. The stupid mutt, who hadn’t budged from his cardboard bunker before, came charging out like a bullet and started yapping wildly from under the bed.

“Oh, maybe he’s hungry.”

Just seconds ago Kusuda had been a melty, drowsy lover, and now he was already back to being Tabby’s doting mom. That irritated Akizawa enough to stop him from getting out of bed, but when he tried to hold him back, the dog barked even louder in protest.

“Akizawa, let go.”

An absolute order. Reluctantly, Akizawa released him. Kusuda bent forward, still unsteady, pulled on his underwear, and picked up the dog.

“I’ll go feed him.”

“Don’t go…”

He said it, pleading, lonely. Kusuda turned and said, “Then come with me.” It was infuriating—but being left behind was worse, so Akizawa followed.

“Hey… do you think Tabby’s cute?”

As they walked down the stairs, he rested his head on Kusuda’s shoulder and glared at his rival, who bared his teeth right back at him.

“He is cute.”

“Nope. He’s not cute at all.”

“He’s just like you. Always causing a fuss and barking like crazy.”

“I don’t go woof woof!”

Kusuda laughed, really laughed out loud, and even though Akizawa didn’t find it funny at all and had so much more he wanted to say, he let it go. If Kusuda was laughing, that was enough.

Once his belly was full, Tabby seemed satisfied and curled up next to his dish. Akizawa thought Kusuda would come back to bed—but instead, he lay down on the sofa Jessica had passed out on the night before. Wanting to be close, Akizawa sat near his head, and Kusuda, noticing, scooted closer and rested his head on his lap.

The atmosphere around Kusuda felt different now. Akizawa wasn’t sure what exactly had changed, but as he gently stroked Kusuda’s hair, Kusuda’s lips curved into a peaceful smile and he closed his eyes with the satisfied face of a full-bellied puppy. Was this… what it meant to be trusted? To be relied on?

The light from the window shifted subtly. Night was slipping away.

“It’s morning.”

Akizawa murmured it quietly. Kusuda cracked one eye open, gave a tiny yawn, and said, “Yeah,” before closing his eyes again and burrowing into Akizawa’s lap.

◇:-:◆:-:◇  

The lawn outside was finally even and beautiful. Perfect. Satisfied with the results of his work, Akizawa leaned on the handle of the mower for a short rest when he heard a cheerful “Hi!” Maya was leaning on the fence, waving his way. She was usually in jeans and a T-shirt, but today she wore a blue dress.

“You look cute. Got a date or something?”

“I wish,” Maya sighed. “My cousin and his brother are getting married, so it’s a family trip.”

“Oh, congrats.”

“I’m excited to see my cousins, but a country wedding sounds mind-numbingly boring.”

Maya leaned her cheek against her hand and looked around the yard next door.

“It looks great now.”

“I’ve got friends coming this afternoon. Thought we’d grill outside, have a little barbecue.”

“Ooh, lucky! That sounds way better than a wedding.”

“Come by after you get back.”

“Can’t. We’re going to Miami.”

So a same-day return was out of the question. Ralph appeared at the front door with a duffel bag, noticed Akizawa, and grinned.

“Hey, you’re up.”

He loaded the bag into the old Chevy.

Maya cupped a hand over her mouth like she was sharing a secret. “Dad was super suspicious of you, you know. ‘Cause you’re an actor—he thought you’d be a playboy or something. But once he found out you and Kusuda were a gay couple, he felt way better. And Kusuda’s been so kind to Grandma, he’s been saying nonstop how glad he is that someone like him moved in.”

Called by Ralph, Maya ran over to the car. She stopped midway, turned back, and said, “Tell me more movie stories next time,” raising her right hand in a sharp little wave and throwing him a wink. Akizawa stood there, watching the Chevy pull away with Sawako, Maya’s younger sister, and the rest of the family inside, disappearing down the road. As the dust settled, the front door creaked open.

Kusuda poked his head out. “You done?”

“Yeah.”

He stepped out into the yard and, without warning, plopped a New York Yankees cap on Akizawa’s head—the same one Ralph was so fond of. Kusuda had mentioned once that Ralph had invited him to a game.

“Might be a little late for this, but still,” he said. Though Akizawa wore it loosely, Kusuda reached out and tugged the brim down firmly.

“You should wear a hat when you go outside. You’ll burn. You’ve got another shoot starting next month, right?”

Akizawa couldn’t hold back anymore. He grabbed Kusuda’s hand.

“What’s with you?” he asked.

Instead of answering, Akizawa pulled him inside the house, shut the door—and kissed him.

“Hey!” Kusuda protested, squirming in his arms. So Akizawa loosened his grip, just a little.

“What’s gotten into you? And you reek of sweat—”

“I love you.”

He whispered it at Kusuda’s ear, and the nape of Kusuda’s neck instantly flushed red.

“You think saying that will make me behave, don’t you?”

“I love you. From the bottom of my heart.”

He pressed kisses along his ear, his temple, his hair—soft and quick, over and over again. Eventually, Kusuda relented with a sigh and melted into his arms. Their lips met in a deep, passionate kiss. Kusuda’s hair was damp with sweat. His eyes, hazed with desire, tinged pink at the corners. His body warmed under Akizawa’s touch.

“I want to go to bed,” Akizawa murmured. “I want to make love to you.”

“Nope. We’ve got guests coming, and I still have things to do.”

Kusuda put both hands against Akizawa’s chest and pushed him away.

This was one of those moments to hold back. Not to be selfish. Akizawa reminded himself firmly of that and stepped back.

“You’re cruel,” he said. “When you’re loved this much, I can’t help but love you even more.”

“That’s not ‘cruel.’ I just put a hat on your head.”

“Even that’s love.”

Kusuda was flushed from his face to his fingertips. Between them stretched one meter—a space full of love, but also restraint. They didn’t move forward, couldn’t pull away, and that hesitation mirrored something both of them felt. Like teenagers in love, stuck in the push and pull.

“I love you, you know,” Akizawa said again, because it was spilling over and had to be said.

“I know,” Kusuda whispered, head lowered.

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