COLD HEART in NEWYORK: Chapter 2

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There’d apparently been a jumper on one of the lines, and the trains were stopped for a while. Because of the delay, the car was packed to a murderous level. Kusuda had visited a design agency that morning and should’ve been back at the office by noon—but it was already past one. It was the first rainy morning in a long time, and inside the train it was humid and stifling. The AC was technically on, but only occasionally blew a faint breeze that brushed his skin like a forgotten afterthought—it didn’t feel like it was working at all.

To make things worse, the middle-aged salaryman standing next to him reeked. And judging by the human buffer zone around the man, Kusuda wasn’t the only one who noticed—despite the crowd, there was an eerie one-meter radius around the guy where no one dared stand.

Kusuda slipped away toward the center of the car, pretending like nothing was wrong. Once he’d gotten far enough to escape the stench, he let out a relieved breath and looked up—only to be greeted by a tabloid headline hanging from the overhead strap:

“Rising Actor Kaito Akizawa Spotted in Hot Okinawa Date!”

That Akizawa had been featured in a tabloid was surprising enough—but more than anything, the copywriting was atrocious. After getting off the train, Kusuda stopped by a bookstore near the office and picked up the gossip magazine he’d seen hanging in the train. Inside, there was a black-and-white photo of Akizawa walking alongside a young actress he was working with, taken in a busy street in Okinawa. Neither of them was wearing a disguise, so it was immediately clear it was them. But they weren’t holding hands or kissing—just a photo that could be interpreted any way, depending on who was looking. Clearly, they were desperate for material.

Come to think of it, tomorrow was recycling day. Kusuda was about to toss the magazine into the box of paper waste when Miyamoto asked, “What’s that?”

“Akizawa got ‘scooped,’ so I picked it up. But it seems totally fabricated.”

“Can I take a look?”

He handed it over, and she immediately started flipping through it at her desk.

“They even got the actress’s name wrong. It’s not Yuka Aikawa—it’s Yuka Kaikawa. Sloppy article. Just as he’s starting to get a bit popular, they pull this sort of thing. Must be tough for Akizawa-san.”

“Guess that’s what they call the ‘celebrity tax,’ huh?”

“Excuse me—”

Until then, Itsuki had been quietly working, but suddenly joined the conversation. Her ringlet-styled hair was on point again today. No matter the rain or wind, her hairstyle never seemed to falter. Miyamoto had once whispered a cutting remark behind her back—“Looks like a mannequin, right?”

“I saw that magazine at the bookstore too and thought, ‘Oh, Akizawa-san’s name is in it.’”

Despite her age, Itsuki had little interest in celebrity news and didn’t really know who Akizawa was. That lack of pop culture obsession had actually been a plus when they hired her. But as expected, she did seem to care about the public image of the company’s model.

“Do things like this… reflect badly on our brand?”

With a worried expression, she turned to Kusuda—even though she was technically speaking to Miyamoto—which left Kusuda feeling like he had no choice but to answer.

“It’s just a tabloid. Who knows if any of it’s even true.”

“But… there’s that saying, ‘Where there’s smoke, there’s fire,’ right?”

For someone in her twenties, she pulled out an old-school proverb. Miyamoto interjected with a calm but pointed, “Even if Akizawa-san were dating that actress, it wouldn’t be a problem for us image-wise. I mean, it’s not like they’re having an affair. They’re both single.”

“Really…? That’s how it works?”

Itsuki tilted her head, still talking to Miyamoto, but turning her eyes to Kusuda. It created a kind of pressure that made it impossible for him not to respond.

“If we were a women’s brand and Akizawa had a big female fanbase, then yeah, a scandal like this might’ve had some effect. But our main focus is men’s fashion.”

“Ahh, I see~” Itsuki said with a sweet smile. Behind her, Miyamoto’s frosty gaze practically screamed, Don’t tell me you just wanted an excuse to talk to Kusuda-san.

Lately, Itsuki had been frequently dropping off homemade sweets for Kusuda. He’d tried hinting gently—“This must be a lot of work for you. You don’t have to go to the trouble, really”—hoping to signal please stop bringing them, but the baked-goods campaign hadn’t let up. Maybe she had noticed the hint, and was just pretending not to. Miyamoto, the ever-watching bystander, had once summarized it as, “It’s a subtle psychological battle, isn’t it?”

“Maybe this gossip was staged to drum up attention for the drama,” Miyamoto murmured.

“Really?” Itsuki asked, looking startled. It was a possibility. After all, the article had come out right after the announcement of Akizawa’s role in the Taiga drama.

“Whether it was staged or not, saying they’re dating just based on that photo is a bit much. Akizawa-san hates being chased around by reporters. If they really were together, he’d totally disguise himself so no one would notice.”

Kusuda recalled the time Akizawa had wandered around playing the part of an auto mechanic just to avoid detection.

“You two sure know a lot about the entertainment world,” Itsuki said, nodding in admiration.

It wasn’t like a complete amateur couldn’t imagine that a scandal might be fabricated for drama publicity, but explaining every little thing was a pain. Kusuda cut the conversation short with, “Well, shall we get back to work?”

Akizawa was bad with texting and rarely sent messages, but he called every night at the same time. He talked endlessly, like he wanted Kusuda to know every little thing about his day. Yesterday, filming had been canceled due to rain, so maybe he was bored—he kept pestering him with “Say something dirty.” After teasing him for a while and finally whispering something naughty, Kusuda had heard excited breathing on the other end and thought, This guy’s such a damn idiot.

Maybe the sexy voice had triggered a wave of homesickness, because after that, Akizawa kept repeating, “I’m lonely. I want to see you.” Kusuda soothed him as best he could and eventually hung up. But as soon as the room fell silent, he found himself caught in the echo of Akizawa’s words—I’m lonely. I want to see you.—and it made him feel strangely alone too.

When Akizawa first left for Okinawa, Kusuda had been genuinely glad to finally have the bed to himself again, like in the old days. But last night, the bed had felt weirdly spacious. …That annoying guy wasn’t here, and yet for the first time, Kusuda found himself thinking, I kind of want him to come home already.

He wanted to be pulled into a strong embrace and told he was loved. Akizawa might be obnoxiously over-the-top with his affection, but even Kusuda, in his own reserved way, was finally realizing just how much he cared about him too.

Apparently, there hadn’t been any big news—either socially or in the entertainment world—lately, so the Akizawa-and-actress rumor even made it onto a daytime talk show. It was just a short segment, but still. Neither Akizawa nor the actress was particularly famous, so the host gave a safe, upbeat comment: “There are lots of actors who meet through a drama and end up getting married, after all.”

That night, Akizawa called again. “I miss you. I want to do it. When are you coming to Okinawa?” He rattled on without even giving Kusuda a chance to respond. Same as always.

Kusuda half-expected him to mention the rumor about the actress, but it didn’t come up. Akizawa liked games when he was bored, but Kusuda had never once seen him watch a TV show or read magazines or books. Maybe he hadn’t heard about it yet.

He was tempted to bring it up—Hey, you’re being linked with one of your co-stars—but Akizawa hated scandal-chasing photographers enough to run and hide from them, so Kusuda figured there was no need to bring up something that would only make him sulk.

It wasn’t just because he’d promised Akizawa… Kusuda himself had started to really miss him. So the next day, he rearranged his work schedule and took Friday off, turning his weekend into a three-day break. The Okinawa shoot was supposed to last nearly a month, and by this weekend they’d be entering the third week—perfect timing for a surprise visit.

As he worked out the schedule with Miyamoto, she asked, “Three-day weekend—are you going somewhere?”

“Just a quick trip to Okinawa. Thought I’d check in on Akizawa-san too.”

Miyamoto laced her fingers together and sighed, “So nice… Okinawa. We should do a company retreat or something, don’t you think?”

Kusuda just laughed it off. Business was trending upward, sure—but not that much.

To avoid doing it on company time, Kusuda checked flights to Okinawa during his lunch break. August prices are insane, he thought, but went ahead and booked both the outbound and return trips. He planned to ask Akizawa where the cast was staying and find a hotel nearby. Since filming would be during the day, he’d probably only get to see Akizawa at night. What would he do during the day? He hadn’t thought that far ahead. He did feel like swimming, but going alone sounded depressing. Maybe Akizawa would get at least one day off? Then again—can that guy even swim?

He was tall and slim, but didn’t exactly have the body of someone who played sports... As Kusuda was picturing him, his smartphone rang. The name on the screen: Numata, Akizawa’s manager.

“I’m actually nearby right now… If you have a moment, would it be alright for me to stop by your office? There’s something I’d like to discuss.”

Something that can’t be handled over the phone? Kusuda wondered, but since he wasn’t heading out anywhere, he said, “Sure, that’s fine.” About ten minutes later, Numata arrived at the office. He explained that he was coming back from that same studio where Kusuda had once picked a fight with the guard—he’d gone to accompany a new actor.

If Numata was here, then Akizawa must be in Okinawa without him. Apparently, a young manager named Kuma had been assigned to Akizawa. Kusuda realized he’d heard that name in their conversations before, but had assumed Kuma was part of the filming crew.

He led Numata to the meeting area within the office, and Itsuki, just back from lunch, brought them tea.

“So, what is it you wanted to discuss?”

They sat across from each other, and Kusuda prompted him gently. Numata glanced around, then leaned forward over the table.

“…Would you mind if we talked in private?”

He lowered his voice. The office was one open floor, and two other staffers who had returned from lunch were still within earshot. So it was something he didn’t want overheard.

“In that case, shall we go to the archive room? That one’s enclosed.”

Numata nodded.

The archive room next door had been shut up, so it was stuffy and stifling with heat. It wasn’t meant for hosting guests, so while there was a long table and some chairs, there was no air conditioning, and cardboard boxes were stacked in messy piles in the corners.

“Sorry—it’s a bit of a hot, dusty room.”

Kusuda opened the window and offered Numata one of the folding chairs.

“I should be apologizing for dropping in unannounced. But with the nature of the topic, it didn’t seem appropriate for a café.”

Numata kept bowing his head in apology. Kusuda could already guess it had to do with Akizawa, but he still couldn’t figure out exactly what.

“Are you aware of the rumor involving Akizawa and the rookie actress he’s co-starring with in the Taiga drama?”

Ah, Kusuda thought, that.

“Yes, I saw it mentioned in magazines and on TV.”

“I’m truly sorry.”

Numata suddenly bowed so deeply his forehead nearly hit the table.

“Eh—uh, you don’t have to apologize. I mean, if it were an affair or something, that’d be a problem for his image, but she’s a single, young actress, right? It’s not something to be too concerned about.”

Numata lifted his head, visibly relieved, and placed a hand over his chest.

“We should have explained things to CRUX, your company, much earlier. But with Akizawa being in Okinawa and refusing to say much about it, confirming the facts took longer than expected. After discussions with the actress’s agency, both parties agreed not to make any public statements and to quietly wait for it to blow over.”

He had assumed it was a publicity stunt, but apparently, the photo had been taken by chance. The reason neither Akizawa nor the actress’s agency was denying the relationship was likely because they both intended to ride the wave of attention. The more exposure they got in magazines and on TV, the more recognizable their names would become. For something this minor, a phone call would’ve sufficed—yet Numata had come all the way to talk in person. He was nothing if not conscientious.

“Thanks to the opportunity you gave Akizawa as CRUX’s image model, his luck has clearly turned. He’s being treated well at the agency, and he’s more emotionally stable than ever. If he could’ve stayed that way, we wouldn’t be having this conversation… but with the future in mind…”

Numata let out a long, narrow sigh and looked up.

“Akizawa entered the entertainment industry when he was very young, which meant he barely attended school. Before he had the chance to learn how to socialize with kids his own age, he’d already had relationships with multiple adults. I haven’t pried into who they were or the details, but…”

Kusuda felt himself recoil—What the hell is this old man saying?—as Numata suddenly began talking about Akizawa’s past sexual experiences.

“Those kinds of one-sided relationships with adults are not a healthy way for a child to grow up.”

Even knowing he was Akizawa’s current partner, this wasn’t the kind of thing he wanted to hear. Kusuda had dated other people, had sex before meeting Akizawa. They were both adults with experience. That was normal. But now, being loved almost to excess by Akizawa, hearing about his past brought an unpleasant churn to his chest.

“Maybe because of that kind of childhood,” Numata continued, “Akizawa tends to reach out to others too easily whenever he feels lonely…”

Kusuda recalled their first time. For someone so immature in his words and behavior, Akizawa had been surprisingly experienced when it came to sex. That craving for human contact when lonely—he understood that. Akizawa was the type to get lonely easily. They could be staying in a twin room and he’d still sulk if Kusuda didn’t sleep in the same bed.

Numata lowered his eyes and rubbed his temple.

“To be blunt, Akizawa has a terrible habit with women.”

“…Huh?” Kusuda let out a small, surprised breath.

“He’s bad at social interaction, but the moment he senses that someone’s interested in him, he can’t help but make a move. Around the time CRUX offered him the modeling job, he was in a phase where women weren’t showing any interest, so it hadn’t been a problem. But as his career picked up, more and more people started gathering around him. We’d been especially cautious about women becoming an issue once his work took off, but things had been going smoothly, so I thought maybe he’d finally outgrown that bad habit… until now.”

Kusuda’s thoughts were a jumble. He couldn’t process what was being said. Even if Akizawa had been like that once, that was the past, wasn’t it? Why talk about it like it was still happening?

Akizawa was obsessed with him. He called every night, whispered that he loved him. The idea of him cheating was unthinkable. But…

The surface of what he’d believed to be a crystal-clear, unbreakable stone now showed the faintest clouding.

Kusuda swallowed hard.

“This thing with the actress… Are you saying it wasn’t some tabloid fabrication? That both agencies agreed to keep quiet because it was good PR?”

Numata slowly shook his head.

“Sometimes that is the strategy—but not this time. They both have a fair number of scenes, but they’re still supporting roles. It’s not worth manufacturing a scandal over.”

Kusuda’s heartbeat pounded painfully loud in his ears. His palms were damp with sweat. Then why… why are the agencies staying silent?

He clenched his jaw to keep his voice from shaking.

“Then… what the gossip magazine wrote… is it true?”

“Yes.”

All the blood drained from Kusuda’s body.

His cheeks stiffened, his fingertips began to tremble. He slept with the actress? No, it couldn’t be true. This had to be a mistake—had to be.

“Kusuda-san?”

Apparently, his name had been called several times, but it took a moment for him to snap out of it.

“Ah… sorry. I was just… really surprised, that’s all.”

“I’m terribly sorry he’s such an irresponsible man,” Numata said, bowing his head repeatedly.

“Akizawa is a grown adult. I’m not saying he can’t have a romantic relationship, but in his case, it isn’t about love—it’s more about quickly satisfying desire. Until now, most of his partners have been older, understanding, and experienced, so it hasn’t caused many issues. But… forgive me for saying this, I honestly think it would be better if he just saw a professional than risk getting involved with colleagues or acquaintances and causing problems. I’ll be heading to Okinawa early next week, so I plan to have a proper talk with him then.”

After seeing Numata off down the hallway, Kusuda returned to the stifling archive room. He dropped into a metal chair, staring blankly. Just sitting still made sweat start to gather on his skin.

Akizawa slept with the actress.

Even after hearing it said so clearly, the fact refused to land in his mind. It made no sense. Since going to Okinawa, Akizawa had called him every night. Whispered “I love you,” “I’m in love with you,” so many times he’d lost count.

So what, was Numata lying? But he had no reason to. He’d come all the way to the office, bowed his head, apologized over and over again. He had nothing to gain from lying to Kusuda.

Akizawa had gone to Okinawa and used the distance as a chance to cheat. Kusuda had been betrayed.

A sharp pain stabbed his gut, and he doubled over without thinking. So that bastard… was whispering ‘I love you’ over the phone and then sleeping with the actress afterward? He couldn’t make sense of it.

What the hell does ‘I love you’ even mean? Was it a lie? Was he just looking for comfort from whoever was convenient?

That’s probably what it was. He went to Okinawa and made a move on the actress—so clearly, that was the truth.

Then what was Kusuda, in that man’s mind? A convenient hole who’d let him do it anytime, even in the bath or while asleep, as long as he said “I love you”?

He clenched his molars. Don’t treat me like a joke.

He kicked one leg of the long table. A loud crash rang out, and the table, which had been parallel to the wall, was now at an angle.

A dark, viscous emotion twisted violently in his chest. He wanted to throw everything—work, everything—aside and fly to Okinawa right now. He wanted to confront Akizawa and demand: Did you really sleep with that actress? If it was true, he wanted to shout: Then what the hell was I to you?

There was a knock on the archive room door. It creaked open slightly before he could answer.

“Um… sorry to interrupt.”

Itsuki peeked in, glancing around nervously.

“Kusuda-san, you’re alone, right?”

“…Akizawa’s manager already left a little while ago. Did you need something?”

He wasn’t sure what kind of awful expression was on his face, so he kept his head down as he spoke.

“I heard a loud noise and was worried.”

“I just tripped and bumped into the table. Sorry for startling you.”

“Are you alright? You didn’t hurt yourself?”

Itsuki stepped into the room and quietly closed the door behind her. Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through him, but just having someone near made him irritated.

“Could you let Miyamoto-san know I’ll be doing some research in here for a while?”

That was clearly a way of saying go away, but Itsuki didn’t move.

“Kusuda-san… are you going to Okinawa?”

The question came out of nowhere. She might’ve overheard his conversation with Miyamoto earlier—but right now, Okinawa was the last word he wanted to hear.

“Yeah.”

The edge in his voice made it obvious—whatever thin veneer of calm he’d tried to maintain had cracked, and now his tone came out sharp, bristling.

“I love Okinawa too. I’ve got a friend from college who’s from there. If you’re going, maybe I’ll take the chance to visit her.”

A violent, dangerous thought surged up inside him. Itsuki liked him—he knew that. What if he took her with him to Okinawa, acted like a couple, and rubbed it in Akizawa’s face? You cheated first, so I’ll…

No. Absolutely not. If he did something like that, he’d be leading Itsuki on. She’d end up hurt, just because he wanted to spite Akizawa. He was thinking such cruel things because his anger was making him reckless. He had to calm down. Stay calm.

“Must be nice to have friends there. But me, I like traveling alone.”

He’d never once taken a solo trip in his life, but he lied anyway. Maybe she caught the warning in his words, because she looked down and said only, “I see.” Then fell silent.

Even though the conversation was clearly over, she didn’t leave. Why won’t she just go back to work?

Itsuki raised her head and slowly stepped closer.

“Um… I…”

Trembling lips slightly parted, her watery eyes locked on his. No. He could already tell from the atmosphere—within seconds, she was going to confess.

Why now? Why the hell now, of all times?

“Sorry. I’ve got a headache and I really don’t feel like talking to anyone. Do you mind just leaving me alone?”

His words came out curt, like a slap. Sensing the hostility, Itsuki twisted her mouth into an awkward expression and mumbled, “S-sorry,” before slipping out of the archive room. He’d said it harshly, but he’d just barely managed to hold back from yelling at her.

Kusuda clutched his head in both hands. What even is romantic feeling? He didn’t get it. Was all that stuff Akizawa had said—“I love you”—just an act to keep him around as a living sex toy?

But… no. No. He couldn’t believe those words had been a lie. Akizawa didn’t seem like someone slick enough to lie so effortlessly. When he fell for someone, wasn’t he the type to throw himself in wholeheartedly? Wasn’t that how he approached his acting too?

What if he didn’t actually sleep with her at all? What if, for some reason, he had no choice but to let the rumor stand? What if he was being blackmailed—being threatened somehow? It wasn’t impossible.

The moment Kusuda arrived at that possibility, the thick, mucky haze that had been weighing him down lifted—like a puddle suddenly drying up. Yeah. Even if he had slept with the actress, there had to be a reason. Until he heard it from Akizawa himself, until he could verify the truth, there was no point in thinking about it. Letting his imagination run wild would only exhaust his emotions for nothing.

He closed the window, straightened the desk, and left the archive room. Back at the office, he approached Itsuki, who sat staring at the floor with a gloomy expression.

“Sorry about earlier. I’m feeling better now,” he said.

Itsuki looked up with a relieved, “Okay,” and seeing her face made Kusuda feel a little relieved too.

By shelving the whole issue for now, he’d managed to regain some emotional stability—but the subject of the affair kept flashing back in his mind like a guerrilla ambush. I said I wouldn’t think about it until I heard it from him directly, he reminded himself, pushing back the negative spiral.

Even so, he couldn’t focus on work. By the time he looked up, it was past eight. Miyamoto and Itsuki had left right on time, so now he was the only one left in the office.

He didn’t feel like going home, but sitting around idly would just make him think about the affair again, so he kept working in silence.

Akizawa usually called between ten and eleven at night. Once it passed ten, Kusuda started to get antsy. He busied himself by tidying up around his desk. Checked the time over and over. Fiddled with a bunch of novelty items from other companies they’d collected as samples, opening and closing them aimlessly.

Before long, it was nearly eleven. Maybe he’s not going to call tonight. Kusuda considered calling instead, but what if they were in the middle of filming? He didn’t want to be a bother. That hesitation always came first.

Then, his silent phone suddenly chirped with its bright ringtone. The jolt ran through him like lightning. On the screen was the name “Akizawa.”

He placed a hand over his overexcited chest and drew in a steadying breath before tapping the call button.

“I just finished dinner,” came the voice on the other end.

No greeting, no names exchanged—Akizawa just started talking, like always. His tone was slightly off tonight, probably because the role he was playing hadn’t fully worn off yet. Right now, he was playing a lighthearted but deeply loyal character.

“Being alone in the room is lonely. I miss you, Masahiko. When are you coming? The shoot’s already halfway over.”

There was a clear note of sweetness in his voice. The way he clung to Kusuda like this—it didn’t seem like the behavior of someone cheating. And yet, Numata had no reason to lie either. Kusuda needed the truth. He needed clarity. He needed to know.

“Numata-san came to our office today.”

“Oh yeah? Was it for work or something?”

There was no sign of concern in Akizawa’s voice. Knowing that subtle hints would go right over this man’s head, Kusuda went in bluntly.

“You know, the tabloid that said you’re dating that actress? Numata came to tell me it’s true.”

Let’s hear it, Kusuda thought. What kind of excuse are you going to make?

“What? I’m not dating that actress.”

He said it so plainly, so blankly. There wasn’t a trace of deceit in his voice—Kusuda could tell even over the phone. A weight lifted slightly from his chest.

“But Numata said you admitted to sleeping with her.”

He pushed further. If you’re not dating, why admit it? Even if he couldn’t tell the world, Kusuda hoped he could at least be honest with him.

“Ah, that. Yeah, I did sleep with Yuka.”

…Kusuda’s mind went completely blank.

And yet Akizawa said it so casually—like he was saying “I took the train today,” or “It rained.” No shame, no hesitation.

“You just said you’re not dating her!”

His voice shook.

“Yeah, I slept with Yuka, but I’m not dating her. You’re my only boyfriend, Masahiko.”

His head flushed hot with rage. What kind of messed up logic is that!?

“You’re in a relationship with me, so how could you sleep with someone else!?”

He forgot he was still in the office. His voice came out as a shout.

“But you’re not here, Masahiko.”

“What?” he snapped, disbelieving.

“I got lonely, I wanted to do it, but you weren’t around. I’ve been on set every day—I haven’t even had time to come back to Tokyo.”

His voice, lighter than usual—maybe still influenced by the role—only made Kusuda’s skin crawl. You’re in a relationship. If you sleep with someone else, it’s cheating.

“No matter who I sleep with, the one I love is Masahiko. So it’s not really cheating.”

That… that basic truth didn’t seem to register with him.

“Sleeping with Yuka was like masturbating. You're the only one I love, so emotionally, I didn’t betray you. So this doesn’t count as cheating.”

This wasn’t some lame excuse—he genuinely believed it.

“…I can’t believe this.”

“I just… I really miss you, Masahiko. But I know it’s work, so I’ve been holding it in this whole time. But why should I have to hold back on sex too? Yuka said it was just for fun—she’s got a boyfriend, you know? And I don’t really care who it is, as long as they’ll let me.”

Selfish. Completely self-centered. That sweet, clingy guy—like a shy cat that only opened up to Kusuda—was crumbling before his eyes, piece by piece.

“That’s why I asked you, remember? Before I left for Okinawa—I said I wanted you to come with me. I even offered to pay. If I’m going to have sex, I’d rather do it with you. If you were here, I wouldn’t have gone near her. But you weren’t, so I didn’t have a choice.”

His head was spinning. Not having your boyfriend around means it’s okay to sleep with someone else? And he could actually say “didn’t have a choice” with a straight face?

“So you’re saying I should just let you cheat!?”

Kusuda shouted, his voice tight with the threat of tears. On the other end, Akizawa laughed.

“Sometimes I seriously don’t get what you’re saying, Masahiko. I already told you—it’s not cheating. It was just like masturbation. What, do I need to say it ten more times? If I go a month without coming, I’ll die.”

Kusuda’s hand shook around his phone. Show me someone who could hear that and believe it—I dare you.

“Numata said you didn’t want to talk about it. Isn’t that because deep down, you knew it was wrong?”

A weary sigh filtered through the speaker.

“My dad’s always been super uptight about who I sleep with. I didn’t want to talk about it. I mean, I’m way past my teens now. He should just leave me alone already.”

He hadn’t wanted to believe Numata—but now everything lined up. Everything Akizawa was saying matched.

“And, I haven’t told my dad about us either. Because, you know, it’s two guys. I’m sure he’d start running his mouth again. But it’s kinda nice, you know? Like, with two guys, no one stares. We can walk around together, eat meals, stay over in the same room—and nobody says we’re dating.”

It almost sounded like… he was with Kusuda because it was easy—because nobody would make a fuss.

“You’re… the worst.”

The words slipped out on their own.

For once, Akizawa went silent.

“You’ve been so angry tonight, Masahiko. Since we’re being honest, I gotta say—you’re kinda selfish, you know?”

Kusuda’s face twitched, frozen in a half-snarl.

“If you didn’t want me to sleep with someone else, then you should’ve come to Okinawa. I was serious when I asked you. I even offered to pay and you got mad at me, saying not to insult your job or whatever.”

This man—he didn’t understand anything. Not Kusuda’s feelings, not what he was doing. Nothing.

In that moment, Kusuda’s fingers moved on their own. He hung up.

Akizawa called back immediately.

This time, Kusuda shut his phone off.

He moved to place it on the desk, but it slipped from his fingers and hit the floor. He didn’t even try to pick it up. Just sat there, staring blankly at the dark screen.

Love is supposed to be a one-on-one thing. When you’re in a relationship, you don’t sleep with other people. That’s betrayal. That’s how you hurt someone you love.

After hearing Numata’s story and before Akizawa’s call came, Kusuda had run through several scenarios in his head. What if Akizawa had been threatened? What if he was being blackmailed and had no choice? If that had been the case, Kusuda wouldn’t have blamed him. He would’ve known for sure that he was the only one in Akizawa’s heart.

Even if it was just as Numata had said—even if he had slept with the actress—if Akizawa had admitted he gave in because he was lonely, had apologized sincerely, Kusuda wouldn’t have condemned him. He knew how needy Akizawa could be.

But reality had turned out worse than the worst-case.

Akizawa didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty about sleeping with someone else. He couldn’t even imagine how Kusuda might feel hearing about it. And in the end, he’d gone so far as to blame Kusuda for it.

“Love you.”

“I’m in love with you.”

Akizawa had always tossed those words around like a clearance sale over the phone. If you love me so much, why sleep with someone else? Why wasn’t I enough? He wasn’t the only one who felt lonely not being together. Kusuda could bear it—because if he was going to touch anyone, it had to be Akizawa. He couldn’t even imagine being with someone else. But Akizawa was different. As long as someone would comfort him quickly, it didn’t matter—man or woman, anyone would do. Now that he’d seen how that man’s mind worked, Kusuda was afraid to trust him.

From the edge of the meeting space, Akizawa stared at him. Because the CRUX seasonal posters—Spring/Summer, Autumn/Winter—were plastered two to a wall. Kusuda stepped toward them and ripped one down from the center. Riiip... Akizawa’s face split down the middle.

For one fleeting second, something inside felt lighter. Then the wave of self-loathing crashed down. What the hell am I doing? Taking it out on a poster—what’s the point?

He crumpled the torn poster into a small ball and tossed it into the trash. Then looked around the room. Since Akizawa had become their image model, the whole office had changed a little. Shadows of him lingered everywhere. Posters in all different sizes. Branded novelties. The screen saver showing Akizawa with a listless look, wearing a ring. His presence clung to every surface, making it hard to breathe.

Kusuda couldn’t stand it anymore. He slammed a foot into the wall with a thud.

He turned off the lights, locked up, and left the office. If he stayed alone in that room, he’d spiral into more useless thoughts. He didn’t want to think about that awful man—but his mind kept returning to him. He just wanted to forget. Please, he thought, just let me forget. Maybe if he got drunk, even for a second, it would ease the pain.

Footsteps came down the stairs. This late, it could only be Masamitsu. Kusuda didn’t want to run into anyone. Not now. He stopped walking, intending to let him pass.

But instead of heading down the stairs, the footsteps turned into the hallway.

“There you are!”

Masamitsu came quickly toward him.

“Heading out now? Good timing. Akizawa called me—said you weren’t picking up. He sounded kinda desperate. Did your phone run out of battery or something?”

Kusuda forced a smile, irritated by how persistent Akizawa was.

“Can you text him that I’ll call back once I’ve charged it?”

“No need. I’ve got him on the line right now.”

Masamitsu handed him his phone—and Kusuda’s heart sank. He didn’t want to hear that voice. But not answering now would just seem odd. He had no choice.

“…This is Kusuda.”

“Don’t just hang up on me!”

Akizawa’s voice exploded through the receiver, loud enough to make his ear sting.

“We were still in the middle of talking! You wouldn’t pick up no matter how many times I called, and I could tell you were mad—so of course I was worried…”

Every single word. Even just the sound of his voice grated. You really are an idiot who doesn’t understand people’s hearts, aren’t you?

“I see. I’ll return your call regarding that matter at a later time.”

“…What the hell? What are you even saying?”

“Thank you for calling. Goodbye.”

His tone was cold and flat—like a business call. Then he ended it and handed Masamitsu his phone.

“Akizawa’s on edge from being away for so long. Homesick, you know? He might keep calling, but don’t worry about answering. If he gets too persistent, feel free to block him.”

The lie came out effortlessly. Like he’d rehearsed it.

“Huh? But…”

Masamitsu looked back and forth between Kusuda’s face and the phone in his hand, clearly confused.

“Numata-san said that talking to him just makes the homesickness worse, so it’s better to leave him alone for now. Anyway, I’m heading out. See you tomorrow.”

Leaving Masamitsu dumbfounded, Kusuda stepped out of the building. A light rain was still falling outside. He’d left his umbrella beside his desk, but he had no desire to go back for it.

Getting soaked, he stomped through puddles as he walked, Akizawa’s words playing at random in his head. He called me selfish. Said that even though he invited him to Okinawa, Kusuda refused—and now he was complaining about him sleeping with someone else. But Kusuda had work. There was no way he could just go.

Yet by Akizawa’s logic, not being there for him when he was lonely meant Kusuda had no right to be upset if he turned to someone else. And that made Kusuda selfish.

Akizawa was devoted to acting. But just as much, Kusuda cherished his own job. He had left a stable position behind and started from scratch. It might not have been a one-of-a-kind career like Masamitsu’s or Akizawa’s, but he took pride in it. Akizawa didn’t understand that kind of feeling.

Kusuda had always known he lacked common sense. That he could be selfish. But because he claimed to love Kusuda—because he’d clung to him—Kusuda had looked the other way. He’d forgiven his flaws. But this—this he couldn’t forgive. Shouldn’t forgive.

That guy is hopeless. Emotionally stunted. He didn’t know how to treat people. Unless someone told him—unless Kusuda taught him—he’d never understand that his actions hurt others.

But Kusuda couldn’t confront him now. His own thoughts were still a chaotic blender. He needed more time—he needed to cool down.

He ducked into a subway entrance and was finally shielded from the rain. His whole body was soaked. He felt like an idiot.

It was late enough that the trains were running farther apart.

He backed into a wall and lowered his head. If Akizawa were standing in front of me right now, I’d kick him right in the ass. He was an actor—couldn’t punch him in the face, after all. So the ass it was.

A suffocating feeling swelled in his chest. If only I’d been completely disgusted with him. If only I’d lost all affection—then I could’ve just cut him off without hesitation.

But he couldn’t. What made it so unbearable was that he was still trying to forgive him—still trying to figure out how to forgive him. Because if he couldn’t forgive him, then there was no future for them together.

Even though what Akizawa had done was cruel—unforgivable—still, Kusuda wasn’t ready to end things.

He couldn’t break up with him.

Because, in the end… he still wanted to be with him.

Even though he knew it… he didn’t want to admit it.

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