COLD HEART in NEWYORK: Chapter 13

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Tomorrow, he had a date with Masahiko. Just thinking that filled him with excitement, like a child the night before a school trip. He tossed and turned all night and still woke early, eyes snapping open at eight. After grooming himself and getting dressed, he looked at the clock: still only nine. Unable to settle, he paced the room aimlessly, then finally left the hotel early, hoping moving around would calm him down.

From morning, snow had been falling. It hadn’t begun to accumulate yet, and it wasn’t a blizzard, but visually, the cold came pressing in from every direction. He arrived in front of CRUX at eleven, still much too early for lunch. As he glanced around, wondering what to do, he noticed that the neighboring shop was open for the first time. The shutter was up—it was a hat store. The display window held a row of hats in street-tree hues like brown and black, alongside pops of Christmas colors like red and white. It was more interesting than he expected. There was a men’s section, too, so with time to spare, he wandered in.

In Japan, hats were essential for hiding his face. He owned quite a few, but the one he wore most often was the hunting cap Masamitsu had given him. His small head meant nearly everything looked good on him, and the hats fit with sharp elegance.

Come to think of it, he’d never seen Masahiko wear a hat. But with that head shape, surely hats would suit him too. What kind would look best? Thinking about it while browsing turned out to be surprisingly fun.

Among the ones he imagined would suit Masahiko, the one that caught his own eye most was a soft black wool felt hat. He bought it without asking for a bag and wore it right away. If Masahiko says, ‘That hat looks cool,’ then just like Masamitsu had done with the hunting cap, I’ll take it off and plop it right on his head. He wondered what kind of face Masahiko would make then.

While he’d been playing around in the hat shop, the snow had started falling more heavily. By the time he stepped outside, the new hat already had snowflakes gathering on it. It was 11:50. In ten more minutes, they’d go have lunch together. He stood across from the store, beside a signpost, heart pounding with anticipation. The snow clung to his coat and hat, dusting everything white. He kept brushing it off.

A little before noon, the blond clerk came out of the shop.

“You come inside,” he said in broken Japanese.

But Akizawa shook his head. “If a customer comes, I’ll just be in the way.”

The shop was small, and he didn’t want to interfere with business.

“Owner busy, you inside, okay,” the clerk insisted.

Maybe Masahiko was running late. And it was cold. Reluctantly, Akizawa agreed to wait inside. He was led to a wooden stool placed diagonally in front of the register counter and the door next to it.

“You model?” the blond man—Rob—asked, pulling out a complete set of the CRUX novelties from the time Akizawa had started modeling.

When Akizawa nodded, Rob suddenly grabbed his right hand in both of his, giving it a firm shake.

“Me Rob. You… beautiful!”

It was kind of him to compliment, though the broken Japanese made it sound absurdly earnest.

Customers trickled in, never a crowd, but never completely quiet either. Rob looked busy. The central showcase displayed the current season’s lineup, while the left and right cases held more standard CRUX offerings—though even among those, many leaned into bold, experimental designs. Perhaps New York’s market preferred something with edge.

The minutes dragged. By 12:30, Masahiko still hadn’t appeared. Akizawa tried to remind himself that if Masahiko was tied up with work, he had no right to complain. After all, yesterday Masahiko had agreed reluctantly. But the longer he waited, the more anxious he became. What if he bails? What if he just doesn’t come?

While he was stewing, a Japanese couple came into the shop. The man, realizing Rob could speak Japanese, started conversing with him directly. He was asking to see the “Scorpion series,” but Rob didn’t seem to know the word. The Scorpion line had been last year’s model—nothing on display now.

Watching Rob struggle, Akizawa finally stepped out onto the floor.

“You’re looking for the Scorpion series?” Akizawa asked.

The man looked visibly relieved to hear Japanese, but then his eyes widened as he got a proper look at Akizawa’s face.

“Uh… um…”

His voice trembled. The woman beside him grabbed his arm tightly, whispering, “Wait, is that really him?”

“What from the Scorpion series are you after?” Akizawa asked. “There are necklaces, rings, bracelets…”

“A-all of it,” the man stammered.

Akizawa opened one of the CRUX novelty books Rob had shown him earlier, flipping to the pages from the previous year. He pointed. “He wants to see this whole series.”

Rob nodded, “OK,” and disappeared into the back.

“Um… you’re Akizawa-san, right?” the man asked, his voice still shaking.

“Yeah.”

“Why are you working in a CRUX store…?”

“I’m not,” Akizawa said, smiling faintly. “I’m just waiting for someone here. But yeah, the Scorpion series is cool. I own the whole set, actually.”

The man flushed. “I know. I saw you wearing it in a magazine and thought it looked amazing. I really wanted it, but I couldn’t afford it back then. I’m here on my honeymoon, so I wanted to buy something special this time.”

He tried on the necklace, ring, and bangle from the Scorpion line. The bold designs suited him well. Without hesitation, he bought all three.

He slipped the ring on immediately, saying he’d wear it out. His wife, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care much for the edgy designs—she hadn’t even looked at the pieces closely, and her jewelry was simple and minimal.

Akizawa turned to Rob and asked him to take out one of the delicate rings from the showcase—a unisex design with a star and a tiny gemstone.

“Hey, come over here,” he called to the woman.

She approached, a bit tense. Akizawa gently took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly. It stacked well with the rest of her jewelry, subtle but charming. Her expression shifted, softening with a glimmer of surprise and pleasure.

“That really suits you,” he said. “You like it?”

She nodded faintly.

"Then it’s yours," he smiled. "He gets the scorpion, and you get the star—it’s like you’re destined constellations. You’re on your honeymoon, right? Think of it as a gift from me."

She blushed, her gaze dazed. Her husband’s eyes shimmered with emotion as they thanked him and left. Watching them, Akizawa thought, They’re nice. I’m jealous. Traveling together, choosing rings together—he wanted that. He remembered the first ring he’d made, the one he gave to Masahiko. I wonder what happened to it.

After 1 p.m., Rob finally took his lunch break and was replaced by a petite Black woman with tightly curled hair tied up high. She greeted Akizawa with a bright “Hi,” and he nodded back with a polite “Thanks.” She tried to make conversation, but quickly fell silent when it became clear he didn’t understand English.

He waited. And waited. And waited.

Just after 2 p.m., Rob returned and switched out with the woman—and finally, Masahiko appeared behind the glass door.

His sweater was white today, and he wore a muted blue scarf. But the trousers and gray coat were the same as yesterday.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Masahiko said. “But I really don’t have much time. As soon as we eat, I’ve got to go straight back to the office.”

Even just seeing his face, after waiting so long, sent Akizawa’s pulse surging. Half his goal for the day felt already fulfilled. Without hesitation, he stood. “It’s okay,” he said.

“It’s freezing out. There’s a place nearby—mind if we just go there?”

Akizawa nodded. He followed behind as Masahiko walked briskly through the snow, parting the wind with sharp, purposeful steps. They passed the park café where Masahiko had eaten with Tohru the day before, and a few doors down entered a burger joint. It was just past lunch hour, but still half full.

“I made you wait, so lunch is on me,” Masahiko said. “I’ll order—go grab us a seat.”

He wandered through the crowded restaurant, trying not to look desperate as he searched for an open spot. Just as he was beginning to feel awkward, a window-side seat opened up. He quickly claimed it. After placing their order, Masahiko took off his coat and set it beside him on the wide leather bench.

The chairs in this place were more like sofas, each one big enough to seat six. The table was equally large, which meant there was an awkward amount of space between them. Akizawa felt the distance keenly.

“Work keeping you busy?” he asked.

Masahiko placed his phone on the table and replied distractedly, “Yeah.”

“The air shipment from Japan hasn’t arrived. Their logistics are sloppy here, and when I started arguing with the liaison, it turned into a full-blown fight. I’ve got Guinness handling the office now, but I need to head back the moment they get in touch.”

“Guinness?”

“She’s one of the clerical staff. The Black girl who was switching shifts with Rob, the blonde at the shop. She’s sharp. I can manage general office work on my own, but taxes and legal stuff? Still impossible.”

At least Masahiko wasn’t cold and standoffish like yesterday. He was speaking normally. But he seemed preoccupied, fidgety, distracted—like his mind was elsewhere. Akizawa couldn’t shake the sense that he himself was more an afterthought than company.

A voice echoed through the restaurant, calling "Marcy" in an odd tone, and Masahiko stood up, muttering, "It’s ready."

He returned with two towering burgers, a mountain of fries, and two jumbo-sized Cokes. The trays thudded onto the oversized table.

“Most of the food here is aggressively seasoned, but this place is actually good,” Masahiko said.

Prompted, Akizawa took a bite of the burger. Juices spilled into his mouth—the patty was rich, the balance of ingredients perfect. He wasn’t usually a fan of pickles, but the ones in this burger somehow worked.

Another call rang out: "Tyler." It seemed they called out customers' names every time an order was ready.

Akizawa glanced at Masahiko. He took a bite of his burger, picked at his fries, dipped them in ketchup, and between every small movement, he glanced at his phone.

In the whirlwind of emotion after their reunion—relief, shock, confusion—Akizawa realized he hadn’t really looked at Masahiko. Now he did. He looked thinner than before, his cheekbones more defined. The lines of his face sharper.

Around them, the clientele was a blur of color and culture—white, Black, Hispanic—and Masahiko, an East Asian man, fit right in. He didn’t stand out. He looked like he belonged here.

“Are you going to keep living in New York?” Akizawa asked.

Masahiko took a sip of Coke and answered, “It’s only been a year since the shop opened. Over here, we’re just a small-time foreign brand. Not many people know about us yet. In Japan, our main target is people in their thirties and up, but here, the younger generation buys the edgier stuff. That CRUX spread in LION is going out in two months. After that, I’m hoping we can really start pushing more campaigns.”

"Is there anything I can do? I’ll do anything," he offered, leaning forward slightly.

Masahiko paused, fingers still on his fries.

"...It’s fine for now," Masahiko said, wiping his hands with a paper napkin before taking another sip of soda.

“How long are you staying in New York?” he asked.

It was the first time Masahiko had asked anything about him since they met.

“Till the sixteenth.”

Masahiko counted silently on his fingers. “So… nine more days, huh.”

Yeah. Just nine days. He wanted to stay longer, but work back in Japan wouldn’t wait. Kuma had warned him repeatedly not to miss his flight.

Looking at Masahiko now—so close, so real—Akizawa felt like none of that work mattered. He didn’t care about his career, his schedule, the ticking clock. He just wanted to be near him. To look at him.

If he could… he wanted to hold him again. To see that side of Masahiko—squirming in pleasure in his arms, face flushed and vulnerable and hot with lust.

"When do you have a day off, Masahiko?"

The person he loved suddenly looked at him with a gaze full of fear, like a startled animal.

"On your day off, let’s go somewhere together. It can be wherever you like," he said, trying to sound as casual as he could.

Masahiko lowered his eyes.

"I have plans this weekend."

"It’s not for work, right? Are you going somewhere to have fun?"

After a slight pause, Masahiko answered, "Hampton."

It was a place Akizawa had never heard of, but wherever Masahiko was going, he wanted to go too.

"Take me with you," he asked hopefully.

Masahiko shook his head.

"...I’m going with Jessica."

His happy mood plummeted, as if he had missed a step and fallen down a flight of stairs. Just last night, Masahiko had turned him down, saying he had a date with Jessica. And now the weekend too—Jessica again.
She was his girlfriend; it was only natural that she would come first. He was just a friend. He knew he had to be patient, but frustration still welled up inside him.

"...Not just Jessica. Spend some time with me too," Akizawa pressed, unable to keep it in.

"We’re eating lunch together right now, aren’t we?" Masahiko replied.

"I was looking forward to this since yesterday. So much. And yet I ended up waiting for hours," he said, his voice growing tight with emotion.

Even as Akizawa spoke, he began to realize that maybe this wasn’t the best way to put it.

"It’s not your fault work got busy. I understand that..." He tried to reel in his anger just a little.

"I'm not ignoring you," Masahiko said.

And he wasn’t wrong. But still—it felt like Masahiko treated him more coldly than an ordinary friend would, even colder than he treated Tohru. He couldn’t help but feel that way.

"Then, have dinner with me tonight," he asked.

Akizawa braced himself, sensing Masahiko might say Jessica again.

"...I have plans with Tohru tonight."

It wasn’t Jessica—but it still felt like the worst possible answer. Could he endure having dinner with Masahiko and Tohru? After being rejected for the weekend too, it seemed the only way to spend even a little time with Masahiko was to put up with Tohru.

"Then I’ll come too. Tohru’s a friend, so it’s not a big deal, right?"

Masahiko blinked in surprise.

"But you don’t like Tohru," he said.

"I hate him," Akizawa admitted bluntly, "but I’ll endure it."

Masahiko’s index finger, resting on the table, tapped a small, sharp rhythm.

"Tonight, I want it to just be Tohru and me. It’s not just dinner—we have work stuff to talk about too."

The rejection stung, leaving him feeling miserable. Lovers, work—everything seemed to get in the way between them.

"Then I’ll sit at the next table. I won't interrupt your conversation. I'll just stay nearby."

Masahiko pressed his thumb to his temple and muttered softly, "That would just make me even more uncomfortable."

At that moment, the smartphone on the table buzzed with an incoming call. Masahiko murmured, "Sorry," like a foreigner would, and picked up the phone. He spoke rapidly in English, grabbed his coat, and turned back to him.

"Guinness called. They found the shipment. It was mistakenly sent all the way to New Jersey. I’m heading out to pick it up now. You can finish everything here. Just relax and take your time."

"Huh? Wait, but—"

Masahiko shot out of the store like a bullet. Through the glass window, he could see Masahiko leap into a yellow cab and speed away, his back growing smaller as the taxi disappeared into the street.

It all happened so quickly, there was nothing he could do but stand there in a daze. He had been looking forward to this since yesterday. He had waited for hours, and now, even though he had finally managed to be alone with Masahiko, when he checked the clock, not even twenty minutes had passed.

Sure, Masahiko had been busy with work and there had been a shipment problem, but it still felt too short. And on top of that, their time together had ended on a sour note, like a fight. It was the worst.

Lowering his gaze, he saw Masahiko’s half-eaten hamburger still sitting across from him. Only a single bite had been taken from it; the rest remained intact on the plate.

Even though he hadn’t finished his own meal yet, he reached out and picked up Masahiko’s burger. Just thinking that Masahiko had touched it, bitten into it, made it feel somehow precious. Without hesitation, he bit into the spot where Masahiko’s teeth marks remained.

After consuming the leftover hamburger and the half-drunk Coke Masahiko had left behind, he felt as though he had somehow swallowed a piece of Masahiko himself. His spirits lifted, if only slightly.

Since Masahiko had said he would treat him, he finished his own meal too. But cramming so much food into his stomach all at once left him bloated and unable to move for a while, reclining heavily against the cushion.

Masahiko had said he had work to discuss with Tohru, and had turned him down for tonight, but still—he wanted to have dinner with Masahiko.

Even if Masahiko said having him nearby made it hard to relax, he still wanted to be close. Would that be annoying? Would it be a burden?

Kuma had warned him that if he got too clingy, it would be considered stalking.

...But what if he made sure not to get caught? The idea thrilled him.

Akizawa returned to CRUX and, timing it so there were no customers inside, slipped in.
He asked Rob, "Could you tell me where I can find a store nearby that sells cheap clothes?" and Rob kindly drew him a detailed map.

The place turned out to be a shabby thrift store, looking more like a warehouse, with items tossed carelessly into cardboard boxes.

He bought a plaid flannel shirt, a bomber jacket, and some old jeans. His body was so slender that the shirt practically swallowed him, so he layered three cheap T-shirts and a sweater underneath to fill out the shape.

The thrift store sold not only clothes, but shoes, bags, accessories, even wigs. He put on a voluminous brown wig and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses, transforming himself into a clumsy-looking young man who looked as if he had just arrived from the countryside.

He stuffed the clothes he had worn earlier into a paper bag and, still in his awful disguise, left the store.
Crossing the street to the chocolate shop he had been curious about—the one diagonally opposite CRUX, where you could eat in—he took a window seat and kept ordering refills of café au lait as he waited for Masahiko to return.

Outside the window, the snow kept falling, sometimes harder, sometimes softer, but never stopping.
Waiting for Masahiko in disguise was strangely fun.

After four o’clock, the world outside gradually grew darker, and the snow and wind picked up in intensity. By the time it was completely dark, after five o’clock, a taxi pulled up in front of CRUX. Out stepped a man in a gray coat, clutching something like a large parcel to his chest—it was Masahiko. That must have been the missing shipment.

At six o’clock, Rob hung the "Closed" sign on the door of CRUX. Akizawa, having spent about three hours lingering in the chocolate shop, finally left.

He began slowly wandering around the area, keeping CRUX at the center of his movements, waiting to tail Masahiko once he finished work and headed to meet Tohru.

He didn’t plan to get in the way or even speak to them. If he simply followed from a distance without interfering, it was no different from being a stranger. He wouldn’t be a burden—and he wouldn’t be a stalker.

About thirty minutes after the "Closed" sign was hung up, Rob emerged from the store. The lights inside were still on. A little after that, the clerk named Guinness also came out. At exactly seven o'clock, an hour after Rob had left, the store’s lights finally turned off, and Masahiko stepped outside. He locked the front door and pulled the shutter down. Akizawa, pretending to be looking into the window of the neighboring hat shop, stole glances at Masahiko—but Masahiko didn’t seem to notice him.

Masahiko set off at a brisk pace. Keeping a distance of about ten meters, Akizawa followed behind. It felt a little like playing detective. He worried that if Masahiko hopped on a train or into a taxi, he might lose him, but Masahiko just kept walking through familiar streets. Eventually, Akizawa could see Masahiko’s apartment building ahead. He had assumed that after work, Masahiko would head straight to the place where he was supposed to meet Tohru, but apparently, he was planning to stop by home first. For some reason, though, Masahiko passed right by the apartment building and entered a shop about five doors down. Akizawa checked the sign—it was a beer bar. Masahiko must be meeting Tohru here, close to his apartment.

He was disguised, and as long as he stayed in character, there was no way he would be recognized. He had never once been caught while disguised before. Pressing a hand to his pounding chest, Akizawa stepped inside. The entrance was narrow, but the place stretched deep into the building, a long and thin space. It was dimly lit inside. The customers were overwhelmingly male, but every age group was represented, from young men to elderly ones. There weren't any particularly showy or rowdy types either—it reminded him of a casual Japanese izakaya.

Masahiko was sitting at the center of the counter. Akizawa slipped into a table seat diagonally behind him and ordered a "Coke" from a waitress—a girl with a black ponytail and blue eyes. Maybe it was because of his bad pronunciation, or because he had asked for a Coke in a beer bar, or because of his shabby appearance—most likely all of the above—but the waitress looked him up and down rudely, snorted out a laugh through her nose, and turned away.

A pizza was placed in front of Masahiko as he sipped his beer. Without waiting for Tohru, he began to eat. He ordered another beer and quietly continued eating his pizza. When his plate was empty, he drained the last of his beer and left the bar. Akizawa pressed a dollar bill onto the table for the Coke, ignoring the snickering waitress, and hurried after Masahiko. Maybe this had just been a quick dinner stop, and the actual meeting with Tohru was set for later.

Masahiko retraced his steps and entered his apartment building. Akizawa lingered outside for a while, but there was no sign of him coming back out. The snow still hadn’t stopped, and it was bitterly cold. He paced back and forth in places where he could still see the entrance. Even after an hour had passed, Masahiko didn’t appear. The cold froze his face stiff, refusing to let it thaw. By now, it was ten o'clock.

Staring up at the windows on the third floor, he was suddenly approached by a Black police officer. He had no idea what the officer was saying. The man’s tone was harsh, as if he were scolding him, but all Akizawa had been doing was standing there. "I don't understand English. What do you want?" he said. The officer, realizing he only spoke Japanese, looked exasperated and shooed him away with a flick of his right hand, like chasing off a dog. Finding it too much trouble, Akizawa moved a little farther away. In the meantime, the lights in Masahiko’s third-floor apartment flicked off, one by one. He thought maybe Masahiko was finally going to head out—but no matter how long he waited after that, Masahiko never appeared.

In the taxi on the way back to the hotel, Akizawa kept thinking. Masahiko had eaten alone and returned straight to his apartment. He hadn’t gone out again. What had happened to his plans with Tohru? Maybe something had come up on Tohru’s side, and Masahiko had gotten a call canceling their meeting. That had to be it. If only he had known earlier, he wouldn’t have needed to tail Masahiko in that lame disguise—he could have just eaten dinner with him proudly, out in the open.

He should have called out to Masahiko instead of worrying about coming off like a stalker. It was Kuma’s fault for drilling it into him so many times... Just as he was sending silent resentment Kuma’s way, his smartphone rang. It was Kuma.

"Good evening. I hope I’m not disturbing you. You’re not asleep yet?"

"I’m awake," he replied, his voice coming out curt.

"It’s pretty late over there. It's still midday here in Tokyo. Has anything changed?"

Kuma, as usual, didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by his bad mood.

"Not really," Akizawa muttered.

"That’s good to hear. Actually, I was at CRUX this morning for a meeting about next season’s advertising, and I ran into Tohru Takahisa."

"Ta...kaku?" he asked, stunned.

"Yeah, he seems to have returned to Japan today. I got to see a few of the photos you took in New York displayed on a monitor—they looked great. I’ve always thought so, but Akizawa-san, you really have guts. You never get overwhelmed by those extravagant costumes—"

Before Kuma could finish, Akizawa hung up. Something wasn’t right. Yesterday at lunchtime, Tohru had definitely been in New York. He had met with Masahiko. If Tohru was now in Japan, he must have boarded a plane immediately after that. It takes twelve to thirteen hours to fly from New York to Tokyo.

When Masahiko had turned him down for dinner, saying he had to talk about work with Tohru, hadn’t Tohru already been on the flight to Japan?

As he thought it over, realization struck him—and he wished he hadn’t realized it. Maybe there had never been any dinner plans with Tohru in the first place. Maybe Masahiko had lied. Because Masahiko lied—he had done it before. He had told the worst kind of lie once, even claiming he was dead. If he could lie about something so terrible, then why wouldn’t he lie about this too?

All day, all Akizawa had thought about was seeing Masahiko, talking to him, being alone together. But Masahiko was different. The time he had left in New York was limited. There were less than nine days now. And yet Masahiko had lied just to push him away. Did he hate him that much? Hate him enough to lie?

He had once said he loved him so much. Back then, he hadn’t lied. They had been together all the time. Jessica had said, "When love disappears..." Was this what she had meant? Being treated coldly, lied to... Yet even so, Akizawa still loved him. He loved him so much it hurt. He couldn't bear it. He couldn’t stop himself—he asked the taxi driver to take him back to Masahiko’s apartment.

It was already past midnight. The streets were utterly silent, swallowed up in stillness. Only the snow kept falling, piling up silently on the ground.

Akizawa looked up at the darkened windows of the apartment. He had come ready to storm in, to shout and demand answers — Why did you lie to me? But the cold air seemed to swallow up that anger, and all the force behind it.

When he had found out Masahiko was alive, he’d been so happy. Just knowing he was breathing somewhere had been enough. But if he was alive… Akizawa wanted to be near him. He wanted to love him. And be loved in return. He couldn’t be Masahiko’s lover anymore — that place was taken.

So what was love, then? Was it supposed to feel like this? Being shut out. Lied to. Never smiled at the way Masahiko smiled for Tohru. Always tense around him, never warm. He thought and thought until everything in him — heart, body, mind — felt frozen, and he finally dragged himself back to the hotel.

The night passed without sleep. After eleven a.m., he put on his coat and left. There was no lunch plan. But if he didn’t move, he’d never see Masahiko. Even if it made him look pathetic — he didn’t care anymore. Yesterday’s snow had melted in the rising temperature, leaving behind slick black puddles.

When he arrived at CRUX, Rob, who was busy with customers, noticed him and beckoned him inside, saying "I have something to tell you," and pointed to the chair next to the door, which had almost become his regular spot.

Once the customers had left and Rob had returned to the counter, he shrugged his shoulders and said, "The owner isn’t here."

"Where did he go?" Akizawa asked.

"Work. He asked me to tell you," Rob replied.

If Masahiko wasn’t there, then there wasn’t much point in staying at the shop. But there wasn’t anywhere else to go either. Why wasn’t Masahiko there? Was he deliberately going out because he didn’t want to be invited to lunch again? Did he hate him that much? Even though they had once loved each other so much... He forced himself to stop thinking. Rob had said it was work. If it was work, then probably, that was all it was.

“You,” Rob said, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder. “Smile face.”

He pointed to his own cheek and smiled, trying to cheer him up.

“Tomorrow, weekend. Fun day.”

Akizawa gave a hollow nod. It wouldn’t be fun. Masahiko was going to the Hamptons with Jessica. He’d be alone.

“What kind of place is the Hamptons?” he asked.

“Hamptons?” Rob repeated, tilting his head. “You go Hamptons?”

“No, not me.”

“Hamptons… no good.”

Rob’s brows furrowed as he waved his hands a little.

“Summer, okay. Play, fun. But winter… no play. Very cold.”

He mimed a chill, hugging himself, puffing out his cheeks. Even Rob, with his broken Japanese and kind eyes, looked honestly concerned. That just made it sound even lonelier.

Clearly, in Rob’s opinion, the Hamptons weren’t worth visiting in winter. But if that was the case, why was Masahiko going there with Jessica? Yesterday, he had said he was having dinner with Tohru — and that had turned out to be a lie. So maybe… maybe this trip to the Hamptons was a lie too.

Akizawa stayed in the shop until closing, tucked into his usual spot in the corner, but Masahiko never showed. When he left, he made his way on foot toward Masahiko’s apartment. The third-floor windows were lit.

What would Masahiko say if he invited him out to dinner? Would he look caught, like a man cornered after dodging his way through the day? Would he say, with a tight expression, “I have plans with Tohru”?

What scared him more than the idea of Masahiko lying… was the thought that Masahiko might lie because the idea of spending time with him was that unbearable. That stung more than anything.

In the end, he didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. He turned on his heel and walked away, eyes downcast, watching the sheen of yesterday’s melted snow lingering slick and black across the road. Past CRUX, the park came into view.

He wandered in and saw that the little café where Masahiko and Tohru had once sat together was still open. He slipped into the seat Masahiko had once used. It was cold, and he was the only one out on the terrace.

He wrapped his hands around a cup of hot chocolate, warming his fingers as he stared out into the darkening cityscape — the same scenery Masahiko had been part of. Masahiko lied. He told lie after lie, all to avoid seeing him.

If Masahiko didn’t want to see him, then maybe it would be better to just say it outright. “I don’t want to see you.” But if he did hear that, it would hurt. It would be like being rejected all over again, like his mother had done.

Was it better to be cut off with a clean break? Or to be left dangling by a thread, thin and fraying but still not quite severed?

He imagined it. Himself accusing Masahiko of lying. Masahiko apologizing. And then what?

In the end, nothing would change. Masahiko couldn’t bring himself to say I don’t want to see you, so he lied. And Akizawa would have no choice but to forgive him. Again. It wasn’t fair. He loved Masahiko. But Masahiko didn’t love him anymore.

Akizawa wanted to see him. But Masahiko didn’t care if they met again — maybe even didn’t want to. There was nothing to be gained from accusing him.

Even if he didn’t matter to Masahiko anymore, Akizawa still loved him. He couldn’t stop. There was no one else he’d ever loved this much. No one else who’d made him feel that kind of happiness. So no matter how many lies Masahiko told him, no matter how much he was pushed away, all Akizawa could do was accept it — all of it — just as it was.

He spent the weekend holed up in the hotel. The sky stayed cloudy, and though it was cold, the temperature never dropped enough to snow again. On Monday, it started to rain.

Through the cold drizzle, he headed for CRUX. He leaned his umbrella outside the door and stepped in. Rob, now wearing his hair in a ponytail, greeted him cheerfully.

“Good morning.”

Then, with a thumb pointing upward, he added,

“Boss is here.”

So today Masahiko was in. Maybe it was getting harder to keep hiding from someone who showed up every day.

“Hey, is there a good place to get lunch nearby? Something I can take out?”

Rob didn’t hesitate. “Bagel sandwich,” he said, and started drawing a map. The shop was at the north end of the Prince and Elizabeth Street intersection.

“Very popular. Many people wait.”

Akizawa headed there right away. And Rob hadn’t been exaggerating — despite the early hour and the rain, the line stretched ten meters down the block.

It used to be a specialty ham shop, apparently, and now you could pick out your own ham to go inside the sandwich. Not quite understanding the menu, Akizawa simply pointed to the meats one by one from the right and ended up ordering six bagel sandwiches. It took forty minutes from joining the line to finally getting his order. By the end, his legs were soaked from the knees down.

He returned to CRUX and handed the paper bag over the counter. “Give this to Masahiko.”

“Boss is in. I call,” Rob said, picking up the phone to dial upstairs.

“No,” Akizawa stopped him. “Don’t call. I’m going.”

He left without seeing Masahiko. He wanted to see him, but also didn’t. He wanted to look at him, but he didn’t want to face what was in his eyes. He didn’t want to know—didn’t want to know—if Masahiko was still lying to him.

Back at the hotel, he sat down beneath the window. The rain slapped against the glass in waves. Loud. Constant. And all he could feel was regret. Rob had offered to call him, and he’d stopped him—and now he just wanted to see Masahiko after all. But it was too late to go back.

The next day, it was still raining. Cold and steady. He went back to the same shop, bought more bagel sandwiches, choosing different ham this time in case Masahiko had gotten bored of yesterday’s flavors.

On the way back to CRUX, he passed a shop selling cookies. It had been closed yesterday, but the pastel pink and blue storefront had caught his eye. The cookies inside were handmade, imperfect in shape and texture, sold by weight. He filled a small paper bag with chocolate-dipped ones filled with nuts and picked at them on the walk over. By the third cookie, he was standing in front of CRUX.

Rob was busy with a customer, so Akizawa waited in front of the hat shop next door and ate another cookie. Once the customer left, he stepped inside.

“Good morning.”

Rob greeted him with the same warmth he gave every day, no matter how pointless Akizawa’s visits must have seemed.

“Here. For Masahiko.”

He set the bags of bagels and cookies on the counter and turned to leave when Rob stopped him.

"Wait."

"Are you busy?"

"Not really," Akizawa answered.

"Little wait," Rob said, murmuring the words almost like a magic spell, before picking up the internal phone.

"Owner upstairs waiting," Rob added, pointing his thumb toward the ceiling.

Startled, Akizawa blurted, "Really?"

Masahiko had been avoiding him all this time. Dodging, lying—and now suddenly he was calling him upstairs?

There was no reason to refuse. With the bags in hand, Akizawa stepped behind the door and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

There were five rooms, labeled 201 through 205. One of them—203—had a small wooden plaque beneath the number that read CRUX OFFICE.

He knocked.

“Come in,” came Masahiko’s voice.

He opened the door.

The office was easily three times the size of the shop downstairs. Two desks sat apart in the center of the room. Built-in shelving lined the left wall. On the right, there was a copier and a coat rack. By the windows sat a dark brown sofa set. The space called itself an office, but it still felt undeniably like an apartment.

Masahiko stood from the left-hand desk. He walked forward, slowly, and—just as always—stopped three meters short. Like there was a stream running between them that couldn’t be crossed.

“Thanks for lunch yesterday,” Masahiko said stiffly, still not meeting his eyes.

“I brought some more,” Akizawa said, holding out the paper bags. “Same as yesterday.”

Masahiko didn’t take them. But he didn’t reject them, either—just stood there, looking at them in silence.

But Masahiko didn’t take them. Nor did he say he didn’t want them. He simply looked at them uncertainly, his gaze dropping. After a pause, he murmured, "Outside."

"Is it raining outside?"

"Yeah. It’s better than yesterday, though."

Finally, Masahiko hesitantly reached out his hand. Since it didn’t quite reach, he took a small step forward with his right foot, accepted the bags, and immediately stepped back to his original position.

"The big bag is bagels. The small one is cookies. For dessert... although I might’ve eaten a few already," Akizawa added.

"I really appreciate it, but, um..." Masahiko began, fumbling for words.

"Then I’ll get going," Akizawa said quickly, turning on his heel.

Just as he put his hand on the door, Masahiko’s voice called after him, "Um..." He stopped and turned around. Masahiko looked almost confused, as if unsure why he had even called out.

"Are you in a hurry?"

"Not really," Akizawa answered.

There was a crinkling sound as Masahiko tightened his grip on the paper bags.

"You bought a lot... and I probably can’t finish them all by myself. So, um... would you like to eat them with me?" Masahiko asked, pointing awkwardly toward the sofa by the window.

Akizawa couldn't make sense of it. Masahiko had gone so far as to lie just to avoid him. He had assumed Masahiko hated even being in the same room with him, and that was why he was just planning to drop off the lunch and leave. So why now, suddenly, was he inviting him to sit down together?

He hesitated for only a moment before answering, "Sure."

Even knowing Masahiko had been avoiding him, if he was being offered even a little forgiveness, even a tiny place by his side, he wanted to take it.

Since he hadn’t brought anything to drink, Masahiko brewed some coffee for them. They sat facing each other on the sofas. From the square window with its blinds drawn up, they could see the street below CRUX.

"Did you do any sightseeing over the weekend?" Masahiko asked, breaking the silence.

The word weekend immediately brought up the suspicion again—whether he had really gone to Hampton with Jessica.

"I don't really know my way around the city," Akizawa said curtly, not wanting to continue the conversation about the weekend.

"If you charter a taxi with a Japanese-speaking driver, you can efficiently hit a lot of tourist spots," Masahiko said. "There are also plenty of shows going on. Even if you don't understand English, musicals can still be enjoyable. And at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, it's so big you could easily spend an entire day there just wandering around."

"I went to Central Park. I had a magazine interview there," Akizawa replied.

"I see," Masahiko nodded, taking a bite of a bagel filled with prosciutto.

Even though he was explaining ways to enjoy New York, he never once said I’ll take you or Let’s go together. Masahiko had work—he couldn't waste time on someone like Akizawa.

Even the one weekend he might have had free, he had been rejected with "I’m going to Hampton with Jessica."

Akizawa didn't want to know the truth about Masahiko’s lie, so he said nothing. Masahiko wasn’t particularly talkative either, so the conversation fizzled out. The sound of rain tapping against the windows filled the silence. Akizawa, his head slightly lowered, gazed steadily at Masahiko as he ate his bagel.

He thought about how he wished these quiet moments with just the two of them could stretch on for two or three hours, maybe even longer. He wondered why he loved Masahiko so much—but by now, he felt like love didn’t even need a reason anymore.

"Last week, you helped some Japanese tourists downstairs, right?" Masahiko spoke up again, still not looking directly at him.

"A letter of thanks for you arrived at CRUX’s Tokyo headquarters from those customers you helped," Masahiko said. "It was addressed to you, but Fujishima—he’s from Sales—opened it without realizing. He said it was a really heartfelt message, full of gratitude for you. They’ve forwarded it to Miyako Entertainment."

Maybe this was why Masahiko had called him upstairs—to tell him about that.

"These bagel sandwiches you brought... they’re from that specialty ham store, right? The meat’s pretty salty, but it’s really good. I’d always wanted to try one, but there’s always a long line..."

After finishing his second bagel sandwich, Masahiko asked, "Would it be okay if I gave the leftovers to Rob?"

"He really likes these bagel sandwiches too," Masahiko added.

When Akizawa said it was fine, Masahiko placed two bagel sandwiches onto a paper plate.
"Guinness is out for lunch right now. When she gets back, I’ll have her take it down to him," he said, and then reached for the cookies. He took a bite and murmured, "Sweet."

They hadn’t spoken much, just sat there eating, but it felt like a little of the tension had finally drained from Masahiko’s body.

Maybe if he didn’t accuse him of lying, didn’t demand anything, Masahiko would stay close like this. Maybe if he simply did nothing, Masahiko would remain at this distance.

But what was that supposed to mean? The thought left him feeling hollow. Masahiko was right there in front of him, not even looking particularly annoyed, even making conversation—and yet, somehow, it still felt so unbearably empty.

The ringtone of Masahiko’s smartphone suddenly echoed through the room.

Masahiko answered, asking, "Jessica?"

"What’s wrong, Jessica?" Masahiko asked, his voice rising in panic.

Midway through the call, he switched to English, standing up as he spoke, grabbing the gray coat that was hanging from the stand.

"Jessica apparently got into an accident. She’s freaking out. I can’t leave her alone—I’m going to the hospital," he said.

Without even waiting for Akizawa’s reply, Masahiko hurried out of the office.

He was left alone. Again. Just like last time. The last time they’d had lunch together, Masahiko had left partway through. Then, it had been work. This time, it was Jessica. Work and lovers always came first, so it was only natural that someone like him—someone who didn’t matter—was left behind. There was no changing that.

About five minutes after Masahiko left, Guinness returned to the office. She said something to him, but he couldn’t explain himself properly and simply ignored her, heading downstairs.

Handing Rob the bagel sandwiches, he said, "These are from Masahiko."

Rob, using his usual strange Japanese and exaggerated gestures, said brightly, "Wonderful, thank you!"

Then Guinness came downstairs, holding a black wallet, and started talking with Rob about something.
Just as Akizawa was about to leave, his hand on the door, Rob called out to him.

"Wait!"

Turning around, he saw Rob and Guinness both watching him intently.

"Are you busy?" Rob asked.

"I was just about to head back," Akizawa said.

"Please, listen!" Rob said, pressing his palms together in a pleading gesture in front of Akizawa, then holding out the black wallet.

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