COLD HEART in NEWYORK: Chapter 17

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Pretending to fall for Jessica’s ploy, Akizawa headed for the apartment, timing it so he would arrive at the same hour as yesterday. The sky was cloudless once again, and the searing sunlight beat down with a ferocity that seemed capable of roasting a person alive.

Still bothered by Jessica having eaten the cookies and her comment—“Masahiko doesn’t really like sweets”—he’d bought a six-pack of beer at the supermarket instead.

He arrived in front of the apartment at nearly the same time as the day before, and suddenly realized—yesterday he’d gotten in because an old lady had exited. If no one came or went today, he wouldn’t even get into the entrance.

Should he ring the intercom and have Jessica let him in? No way. That was the one thing he absolutely didn’t want to do. And if Masahiko answered, it would be even worse. He had no choice but to wait for someone to enter or exit.

He stood off to the side of the door, waiting. There was no awning, so the bare skin of his arms was slowly roasted by the sunlight. When he glanced down, he saw a bead of sweat drip onto his sandal.

“Hey.”

He looked up. In the shade of a street tree near the building, Masahiko stood. For a moment he thought it was a mirage or a trick of the light, and rubbed his eyes hard. But no—it was real. Masahiko, wearing a short-sleeved hoodie and knee-length shorts, raised a small wave from the shadows.

Akizawa was so shocked he couldn’t even speak. His body temperature surged, and sweat poured from every pore. His head spun.

“Come on,” Masahiko said, and started walking.

Akizawa’s brain stopped functioning entirely. He stood frozen for a moment until Masahiko turned back to look at him, and only then did he hurry to catch up.

It didn’t feel right to walk beside him, so he kept about five meters behind. Why had Masahiko been there? Had he just been returning from an outing and happened to spot him? Had Jessica not warned him—“Akizawa will be here around this time, so don’t go near the apartment”?

…Masahiko hated him. Was afraid of him. So why had he spoken to him? Why hadn’t he just pretended not to see him?

Akizawa didn’t know where Masahiko was taking him. Didn’t know what he was thinking. He’d said he wouldn’t come back to New York, and yet here he was, not even two years later, shamelessly showing up at his apartment. And then he’d gone so far as to stand at his door. Was Masahiko angry? Was this about to become a lecture for breaking his word?

Even if it was, that was fine. Even if Masahiko yelled, even if he insulted him—none of that mattered. Akizawa didn’t understand what was happening, but just being this close again made him happy.

Masahiko walked past CRUX, past the hat shop, then opened a door next to the shoe store and climbed the stairs. There was another door before reaching the second floor, and Masahiko unlocked it with an electronic key. Though it was possible to access the second floor through the CRUX shop, the apartment residents probably used this entrance instead.

Masahiko opened the CRUX office door and stepped inside. Akizawa hovered at the threshold until Masahiko called out, “Come in.”

“For now, just sit there or something,” Masahiko said, pointing to the sofa near the window.

Akizawa hunched into the spacious seat. Two empty beer cans rolled around on the floor nearby, and that reminded him—

“God, it’s hot. Gonna die. Where’s the AC…”

Grumbling, Masahiko turned on the air conditioner and came over to the sofa.

“H-here, I got this for you.”

Still seated, Akizawa handed over the bag of canned beer. Masahiko peeked inside and his voice rose in pleased surprise.

“Oh, beer. And it’s cold too.”

“Just what I needed. It’s crazy hot out there.”

He cracked one open, stood with a hand on his hip like some middle-aged man, and chugged. Then he let out a satisfied “puhhh,” and set the can down on the table with a soft clatter.

“You want one too?”

Akizawa shook his head quickly.

“I’m good. I bought those for you.”

Masahiko gave a small laugh.

“Right, I forgot. You hate bitter stuff.”

Masahiko reached into the plastic bag, presumably to grab his second beer, and let out a small “Oh.” What he pulled out was the card—sealed in a blue envelope—that had gotten slightly damp from the condensation on the cans. Masahiko opened it. He was reading the I’m sorry that Akizawa had written, not wanting to run into Jessica. Then, pinching the card between his right index and middle fingers, he gave it a little flick.

“Stuff like this… don’t send it anymore.”

Akizawa’s chest sank like he’d swallowed a lump of lead. And in that moment, he understood why he’d been brought here. This—this was what Masahiko wanted to tell him. But if even the cards were forbidden, then there would truly be nothing left connecting them. He dropped his gaze to his own sandals, glaring at them.

“...If you don’t like it, just throw them away without reading them. They all say the same thing anyway.”

Masahiko let out a thoughtful hum, crossing his arms.

“I don’t live with Jessica anymore. She said she wanted to move in with her girlfriend, and while I was mulling that over, I realized this place was way too big for just a branch office, and I wasn’t even using the bedroom. So I figured I might as well save some money and just move in here. That was back in the spring, I think.”

“Then give me this address.”

Masahiko placed the card on the edge of the table.

“Your cards… at first, they creeped me out.”

Even though he’d somewhat expected it, the blunt honesty still stung.

“I didn’t even open them—just dumped them all into a cardboard box. But they kept coming, every day. After about six months, I had Jessica open one. She told me all it said was ‘I’m sorry,’ and I was kind of underwhelmed. So I opened a few more, and they were all the same. It actually made me laugh. Since they were airmail, sometimes two would show up on the same day, or there’d be days with none at all. Just when I thought you’d finally stopped, another one would show up. Even after I moved, I kept swinging by the old apartment after work to see if anything came in.”

Akizawa opened his mouth to say something, but Masahiko spoke first.

“Jessica… she told me you’d come by the apartment. Said it was time I put an end to all this.”

Put an end…? What did that mean, exactly? He was just sending cards. Did she mean even that needed to stop—cut off everything, completely?

“You know,” Masahiko said with a light tone, “you’re really persistent. You should just forget about me already.”

Something about the casualness of it sent a surge of genuine anger through Akizawa.

“If I could forget, I wouldn’t be doing this! I wouldn’t be sending cards every single day! But I don’t want to forget. That’s why I’m putting up with the pain. …I’m not… I’m not causing you trouble anymore!”

He added, “I think,” in a quieter voice afterward.

His whole body was tense. Sitting there, small and hunched, he felt like he’d used up the same amount of energy as if he’d just delivered an hour-long monologue on stage. He felt rigid, brittle—like he could shatter from one hit. Probably from just a single word from Masahiko.

He was terrified of what Masahiko might say next. He couldn’t bear to look at him. As his eyes drifted to the side, he noticed several hats hanging on the white wall like decorative pieces. One of them—he recognized it instantly. The one he’d picked out for Masahiko. He’d tried it on again and again, making sure it looked perfect before buying it. There was no way he could be mistaken. Masahiko had accepted the hat he’d left with Rob. That alone brought a swell of joy—but also confusion. Why? he wondered. Why didn’t he throw it away?

After a long silence, Masahiko sighed.

“Put your hands on the table.”

Akizawa blinked. What was this about? Still unsure, he placed both hands on the tabletop.

“Okay. Don’t move them until I say it’s okay. No matter what. Got it?”

Masahiko firmly repeated the instruction, and Akizawa nodded. From across the table, Masahiko placed both his hands down as well. Facing each other now, their fingertips almost touching. Masahiko’s hand, trembling, slowly began to move—inch by inch, it closed the distance. Finally, it touched Akizawa’s fingertips.

The joy of that contact surged up within him, but it only lasted a moment. Masahiko gave a sharp shudder and pulled back. Though the room was cool with air conditioning, sweat had broken out across his forehead. His face was pale, his lips visibly trembling.

“I had two beers before going to the apartment, one more after I came back. Even with all that, this is the best I can do,” he said hoarsely. “It’s pathetic, I know. But it’s not even about emotions anymore… my body just won’t do it. Maybe if I get used to it… I might be able to handle more. But maybe I won’t. I really don’t know.”

Masahiko looked as if he were in pain. And it was Akizawa’s fault. He had frightened him—to the point that something once so simple had become impossible. To the point that even a fingertip’s touch had become terrifying. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry… No number of apologies could ever be enough. But even while saying he couldn’t do it, Masahiko had still tried. In the lines on his face, in the effort he made, Akizawa saw a flicker of a future. Masahiko was afraid of him. He was still afraid, but…

“If you don’t want me to touch you, then I won’t. Not for the rest of my life.”

Masahiko blinked in surprise and looked at him.

“Even so… I want to be by your side.”

Akizawa could still feel that moment of courage lingering in his fingertips. Masahiko trembled slightly, then shook his head.

“You saw what just happened. I’m like that. I can never hold you. Not ever.”

“If I can be near you, that’s enough.”

“You don’t get it at all!”

Masahiko’s face twisted as he shouted.

“If you were a dog or a cat, yeah, just being around would be fine. But you’re not. You… you like sex, don’t you?”

Akizawa suddenly stood from the sofa with a clatter, and Masahiko stepped back in alarm. But Akizawa didn’t approach—he crouched down on all fours like a servant kneeling to his master. Then, reverently, he pressed a kiss to the toe of Masahiko’s sneaker.

“You can castrate me if you want.”

“Wh—what the hell are you saying?”

“I mean it. I’ll be your pet. That’s enough for me.”

As long as he could stay by his side, he wanted nothing more. If he could reclaim this love, then he’d do anything. Endure anything. The sight of Masahiko, trembling and on the verge of tears, yet still reaching out a hand toward him. He loved him. Loved him so much it hurt.

A warm drop burst against the back of his neck—Masahiko’s tears.

“I’m an idiot,” Masahiko said, hiding his reddened eyes behind his arm, “but you’re completely out of your damn mind.”

To be continued in COLD THE FINAL.

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