COLD HEART in NEWYORK: Chapter 14

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Jessica had been in an accident, and Masahiko was on his way to the hospital. But in his haste, he’d left his wallet behind at the office. Guinness had received a call asking that it be delivered to him.

The problem was, Guinness also had to leave immediately for an appointment in Brooklyn. If she stopped by the hospital on the way, she’d miss her scheduled meeting. Rob was next in line to help, but if he went out, that would leave both the office and store unmanned, which meant temporarily closing the shop. Rob wasn’t keen on either—he had a friend dropping by that afternoon, and closing up wasn’t part of the plan. And so, with both staff members tied up, the errand was passed to the one person with absolutely no obligations: Akizawa, the lingering acquaintance with nothing better to do.

It took about fifteen minutes by cab to get to the hospital from the store. Masahiko likely hadn’t been able to get out of the taxi yet since he couldn’t pay without the wallet. Akizawa searched near the hospital entrance and spotted Masahiko’s face sticking out from a cab window, waving him down with an “Over here!”

Surprised to see Akizawa delivering it himself, Masahiko still managed a quick, “That helps a lot. Thanks,” as he took the wallet. “It’s faster to have someone bring it than to go back for it myself, but I guess the two of them were too busy.”

He said it hurriedly as he rushed inside. Akizawa should’ve just handed off the wallet and gone home. But instead, he followed Masahiko into the hospital.

It didn’t take long to spot Jessica—her red hair stood out from every corner of the waiting room. She was slumped in a chair, wearing a cream-colored coat, its front stained with a bloom of red that matched her hair. A towel was pressed to her nose. When she saw Masahiko, she shot upright and launched into rapid-fire English, her voice loud and trembling, one hand clamped over her face, the other waving dramatically. Masahiko sat beside her, speaking back in a quiet, steady voice, trying to soothe her.

Eventually she calmed down, but tears spilled from her green eyes. Masahiko gently drew her into his arms and stroked her red hair with careful fingers, as though she were something delicate and breakable.

From a short distance away, Akizawa watched them. The way Masahiko touched Jessica was gentle, intimate. A closeness surrounded them—sealed and private. No one else could break into that world.

The realization crept in slowly but deeply, and it stung. Akizawa turned away and left the hospital.

Why, he wondered. Masahiko had loved him once. If he’d asked for anything, Masahiko would’ve given it. They’d been so close, so in love. When had they drifted so far apart?

He hadn’t changed. He was the same. But still…

If being injured meant getting Masahiko’s care, then he’d hurt himself over and over again. But that wasn’t it. That wasn’t the answer. He just didn’t understand what it was that Jessica had and he didn’t. What was he missing? Someone tell him, please.

He wanted to be near Masahiko. Just to be close to him. But now... he wanted to be far away. Really far—Africa, maybe. Somewhere where no one knew him and he knew no one. He didn’t want to see Masahiko being kind to someone else. Didn’t want to be shown, so plainly, that it’s over.

He wandered aimlessly through the city, soaking in the cold drizzle, walking and thinking. After thirty minutes, he found himself by a wide body of water—maybe a river, maybe the sea, he didn’t know. It was a winter-withered park, yet surprisingly full of people. He pushed forward toward the railing, as though fighting against the icy wind. The water below was gray and choppy, flecked with restless ripples.

“That’s the Statue of Liberty, right?”

He heard Japanese. Two Japanese-looking women with black hair and dark eyes were pointing across the water. Far off, barely visible through the rainclouds and heavy grayness, was a long, crooked shadow—too far to see clearly, like a piece of trash stuck on the horizon.

Maybe it was time to go back to Japan. For the first time since he’d come to New York, Akizawa truly thought so.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The next day, though the rain that had fallen for two days had finally stopped, the sky remained covered in heavy gray clouds, casting a dim hue over everything. Sometime after four in the afternoon, Akizawa stood in front of the apartment where Masahiko and Jessica lived. He had first tried Rogue’s main office, but the receptionist at the women's magazine ELZA had told him Jessica had gone home earlier that day.

The apartment entrance was equipped with an electronic lock system for security, but when he turned the handle, it opened easily. Apparently, no one had gotten around to fixing the broken lock. He stepped inside and rode the rattling elevator up to the third floor.

Standing before their unit, Akizawa looked down. He didn’t want to talk to the woman Masahiko loved. And yet, no matter how pathetic it might seem, there was something he desperately wanted to ask her. If… if she ever broke up with Masahiko, he wanted her to tell him. It was a strange thing to ask of someone currently dating the man he loved, but he couldn’t imagine Masahiko ever telling him if they broke up. Not on his own.

He wasn’t going to tell her to leave Masahiko. Saying something like that would only drive Masahiko even further away. But if, someday, their love naturally faded and they ended things—then it wouldn’t be wrong for him to confess his feelings, to try again. He wasn’t saying it would happen. They might get married, and he might stay miserable forever. But… just in case.

He knocked, but there was no answer. Maybe they hadn’t heard. Or maybe they were out shopping.

He raised his hand again to knock a second time, but just before his knuckles struck the door, a clattering noise came from within. So they were home. Why wouldn’t they answer?

Curious, he turned the knob. It opened with a soft click. Unlocked. They must’ve forgotten.

From the narrow gap in the open door, he could hear the creak of furniture moving. And then—

“Ah… ah… oh oh oh, lick my nipples.”

Akizawa froze like stone.

There was no mistaking that voice—it was that kind of voice. He looked down the hallway and saw a trail of clothes: a sweater, a skirt, black panties strewn across the floor leading deeper into the apartment.

The image of Masahiko and Jessica in the middle of it made his stomach churn. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t not hear what came next.

“Ah ah, feels like heaven—Emma, Emma…”

“Jessica, I love you…”

…Wait. Something was off.

The voices were unmistakably sexual, but… Masahiko’s voice wasn’t among them.

With trembling steps, Akizawa walked deeper into the apartment and peeked into the living room—and the sight that met his eyes left him stunned. There, on the long sofa by the window, were two people. Both women. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was that they were completely naked.

Jessica, with gauze still pressed to her nose, and a blonde woman were on the sofa, tangled together in a full-body embrace, kissing, fondling each other’s breasts. Both of them utterly bare.

What the hell is this?

His shoulder brushed against a decorative relief mounted in the hallway. It slipped and hit the floor with a loud clack.

“Masahiko?”

Jessica’s voice rang out.

“You’re back already? That was fast. But I’m sorry—could you wait a minute? Emma’s here right now.”

At the very moment he made sense of what was happening, his mind boiled over with rage.

Akizawa stormed into the living room. Jessica’s green eyes flew wide.

The blonde woman, still on top of her, shouted, “No! No! Get out!”

Akizawa grabbed the blonde by the arm and yanked her off Jessica, shoving her down onto the carpet.

“Oh no!” she cried out as she landed on her back, stunned.

“Don’t you dare hurt Emma!” Jessica shrieked.

“You filthy bitch!” Akizawa roared. “Masahiko’s your boyfriend—how the hell could you sleep with someone else?!”

“You’re the one who barged in here!” Jessica shot back. “You have no right! I’m calling the police!”

Jessica didn’t back down even a step. Akizawa lashed out with his right foot, kicking the edge of the sofa where she sat. The whole frame tilted, jostling the naked woman atop it, and Jessica’s face went pale in an instant.

“I’m telling Masahiko what a fucking bitch you are!”

“Go ahead and tell him,” she shot back. “If I’m a fucking bitch, then you’re a fucking bastard. Or did you really think I don’t know what you did to him?”

The shout that was supposed to follow caught in Akizawa’s throat like a fishbone.

“A little before you came to New York, Masahiko had already started to break down. He got depressed, fragile. He wasn’t eating. Lost so much weight. But I didn’t know why—until the night I brought you to our apartment. That night, Masahiko told me everything about your relationship. He told me honestly. And I told him, ‘Why don’t you just take a trip? Go to England, France, wherever. Get away for a while.’ But he said he needed to talk to you properly, just once. Like he owed it to you. He was completely consumed by this strange sense of duty. I felt so sorry for him, so I told him—I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend. That way, you wouldn’t get too close.”

Pretending… That single word drained Akizawa like every tooth in his mouth had suddenly fallen out. And then came the wave of fury, a full-body tremble of rage.

He’d already been fed one terrible lie—that Masahiko was dead. Then came the fabricated dates, the made-up commitments. And now this: a lie about having a girlfriend. He had accepted it. He had endured it because he thought Masahiko was in love with someone else. He’d told himself it was okay because Masahiko had someone now. But the entire thing was a goddamn farce.

Lies on top of lies—Masahiko had built a mountain of them, each one cutting deeper than the last.

Akizawa bolted from the apartment.

He hurled himself into the elevator, stabbing the button for the first floor. The elevator’s jerky, sluggish descent only added to his boiling frustration.

As he stepped out onto the street, he heard a familiar voice call, “Hey.”

Masahiko was walking toward him, carrying a large paper shopping bag.

“You came by?”

Akizawa couldn’t speak.

“Thanks for dropping off the wallet yesterday,” Masahiko said, as if nothing had happened. “Jessica broke her nose in the taxi crash, but she didn’t need to be admitted.”

They stood apart, three meters of tension between them. One of the cereal boxes sticking out of Masahiko’s shopping bag fell and landed with a muted thump. With both hands full, Masahiko couldn’t bend to retrieve it.

“Could you pick that up for me?” he asked, calm. “I stopped for groceries while I was out. Still on the clock, but I was going to drop this off at the apartment—”

Akizawa snatched the paper bag from his arms and slammed it to the pavement.

The bag tore open, scattering canned soup, biscuits, and frozen mashed potatoes across the wet sidewalk.

Masahiko just stood there, stunned, arms still cradling an empty space like he hadn’t realized the weight was gone.

“Liar!” Akizawa roared.

“Liar! You lied to me again. Jessica’s not even your girlfriend!”

Masahiko’s face went rigid, blood draining from his cheeks.

“You don’t even have a girlfriend, do you?! Do you hate me that much?!”

He grabbed Masahiko by the arms and shook him. Masahiko forcefully shoved him off and ran into the building.

That retreat only added fuel to Akizawa’s rage. He ran after him, jamming his foot into the closing elevator door, forcing it back open and stepping in.

Masahiko stood with his back against the wall, panting, watching him.

“It’s not fair!” Akizawa cried. “How can you do this to me? I stepped back, didn’t I? You said you had a girlfriend, and I thought—fine, then. I gave up! I tried! And now I find out it was all a lie!”

“You said you were meeting Tohru, but you didn’t. You said you were going to the Hamptons with Jessica—did you even go?! You just wanted to get away from me, didn’t you?! I know everything, Masahiko. I know, and I’m still in love with you! And you know it too, don’t you?! You know I love you so much I’d forgive anything! That’s why you keep doing these awful, awful things to me!”

Masahiko lowered his head and muttered in a trembling voice, “S-Stop yelling.”

Akizawa snapped, slamming his foot against the elevator wall with a thud. The small steel box rattled like an earthquake, and Masahiko flinched, shaking his head violently. “D-Don’t. Don’t do that—don’t freak out in such a tight space!”

But Akizawa leapt forward, grabbing both of Masahiko’s wrists.

Masahiko cried out with a strangled gasp from deep in his throat, struggling, flailing his arms wildly to shake him off.

“Let—go of me!”

“I’m not letting go! You liar! Liar! Liar!” Akizawa shouted, his voice cracked and ragged. “You like it, don’t you?! Hurting me, torturing me like this—does it make you feel good?!”

He kicked the elevator wall again—right next to Masahiko’s hip. Again. Again. The harsh gak-gak sound echoed, the car shaking more violently now than it ever had.

“Kaito, stop—”

The elevator suddenly jolted as if it had caught on something, lurching up and down before coming to a dead stop. The lights snapped off. Complete darkness swallowed them.

Was it because he kicked it? Or a blackout? Several explanations flashed through his mind—and then—

“AAAAAAHHHHHH!!”

A shriek tore through the air, so loud it could have split his eardrums. Akizawa’s hands were knocked away.

“AAAH! AAAAHH! AAAAHHH!! AAAHHHHHHH!!”

A series of wild, bestial screams ricocheted off the elevator’s walls. It was just the two of them inside.

“M-Masahiko?!”

He tried to move closer toward the voice in the dark—but as if Masahiko sensed him, a sudden jolt hit Akizawa’s shoulder. He fell backward, smacking the back of his head against the wall. He’d probably been kicked.

“D-Don’t f-fucking touch me!!”

Even without moving closer, Akizawa could still hear Masahiko’s gasping sobs. He wanted to comfort him—desperately—but even that, even getting close, wasn’t allowed. All he could do was sit in the dark and listen to Masahiko’s mind unraveling.

There was a click-click, and the ceiling light above them flickered, blinking rapidly. Then with a low hum, the elevator lights finally came on.

Masahiko was crouched in a corner, head cradled in his hands, crying.

“Wh…why are you crying?” Akizawa whispered. “I’m not doing anything anymore…”

He stepped forward—but Masahiko’s body flinched violently, as if recoiling from a blow. It was as if some invisible barrier now surrounded him.

“…You scare me.”

Masahiko said it without lifting his head. Without looking at him.

“You scare me, Kaito.”

The words landed like a blunt blow to the chest. Akizawa found himself completely frozen. There was someone crying in front of him—the person he loved—and yet now, he couldn’t say a single word. Not even one.

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