COLD HEART in NEWYORK: Chapter 3

Previous TOC Next

He leaned toward the mirror to shave. The man reflected back at him had bloodshot eyes—red like a rabbit’s. Dark circles clung beneath them, and even he had to admit he looked awful. It had only been yesterday that he found out about Akizawa’s affair. After returning home and lying in bed, his mind wouldn’t stop racing—anger, emptiness, confusion. It kept him wide awake. He hadn’t slept a single second.

When dawn came, he finally powered on his phone. There were more missed calls and messages from Akizawa than he could count. Part of him looked at the endless list of calls with bitter satisfaction—serves you right. And yet, the fact that Akizawa was so desperate to reach him… it gave him a strange sense of relief.

There was no way he could sleep now… so he searched for the actress Akizawa had supposedly slept with. She was twenty-two, younger than Akizawa. Apparently, she had just transitioned from modeling to acting—a slim, beautiful woman. Her head was small, eyes large, doll-like. The thought that this was the kind of woman Akizawa had slept with made Kusuda feel instantly pathetic.

No matter how many times Akizawa called him “cute,” by any normal standard, he wasn’t. Compared to this woman, anyone could see who was more beautiful. What if Akizawa compared us in bed? The thought alone made Kusuda want to die. On looks alone, he couldn’t beat her in any category. He imagined the woman lying under Akizawa, legs spread—and that grotesque mental image twisted until the woman’s face became his own. The disgust and shame were so visceral, he nearly vomited.

That woman… I wish she’d just disappear from the industry. Then there’d be no more chances for her and Akizawa to meet. Maybe she’d get kicked off the drama. Maybe she’d go abroad. If she had a boyfriend, she should just marry him. Stop going after someone else’s partner!

He vented all his anger and hatred at the actress—then cooled down. It’s not just her. The root of the problem was Akizawa, who made the move. It was easier to pin the blame on someone else—easier than facing the truth. Because blaming the actress meant he didn’t have to look at what Akizawa had done. And that disgusted him too. He hadn’t cared one bit about that woman yesterday, and now he loathed her. That ugly change came from his own insecurity.

Akizawa didn’t seem to care about the gender of the people he slept with. If that was true… then why me? Kusuda wondered. Maybe he would’ve preferred to be with a woman. Maybe he only ended up with Kusuda because he happened to get hit on by a guy and got swept up in the moment.

Kusuda hadn’t corrected Akizawa’s misunderstanding early on, because he didn’t want to complicate their work. He had never imagined getting involved with a man—sleeping with one had seemed utterly impossible. He hated it. Hated it so much, he’d avoided him. But Akizawa had pushed and pushed, said he loved him, and Kusuda gave in. They slept together. And from there, everything started to unravel. He’d accepted Akizawa’s selfishness. They became lovers. As long as it was just the two of them, Kusuda forgave everything. There was no one else to judge or interfere. But once the cracks started to form, he could finally see it—just how unstable they were from the start.

In the end, he went to work with his bloodshot eyes and dark circles on full display.

Sitting still only made his mind go back to Akizawa. He knew the only way out of this mess was to talk. But right now, he couldn’t. He didn’t want to just unload blame and accusations. In two weeks, Akizawa would return from his Okinawa shoot. By then, maybe he’d have sorted out his own emotions.

While canceling his flight to Okinawa, he checked his email and noticed a reminder about a business event hosted by one of the printing companies they worked closely with. It was happening today. He’d never gone before, but maybe he would this time. There was a new line of experimental prints that could be useful inspiration for the next novelty item design…

That was the excuse, anyway.

What he really needed was to get out—to breathe different air, even just for a while.

“I’m heading out for a bit.”

When Kusuda called out to Miyamoto, she glanced at the clock and said, “Kind of a weird time, isn’t it?” She wasn’t wrong—it was only eleven-thirty.

“I skipped breakfast, so I figured I’d grab an early lunch. Let me know if anything comes up.”

He left the office like he was fleeing, taking the elevator down. As he stepped out of the building, someone coming in bumped shoulders with him hard. The impact was strong enough that Kusuda staggered backward and nearly fell—but an arm caught him just in time.

“Sorry,” he said automatically, raising his head.

And when his eyes met the person’s… Kusuda nearly forgot how to breathe.

Standing before him was a man who shouldn’t have been there. A khaki T-shirt, jeans that had been messily cut off at the knees. Sun-touched skin, black eyes—glinting with irritation and anger—glared straight into his.

“Wh—why…?”

The words tangled in his throat. The man who had tormented his mind over and over was suddenly here, real. Kusuda swallowed hard.

“W-what are you doing here?”

Akizawa curled his lip. “Because of you,” he growled, voice low.

“You ignored me, didn’t you? You were so cruel to me, I had no choice but to come back. I even had filming today, you know.”

Kusuda felt his heart go cold.

You skipped filming—just because we had a fight!? He couldn’t believe it.

“You absolute idiot!”

He shoved Akizawa hard in the shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing!? Get back to Okinawa, now!”

Akizawa stumbled back a step but didn’t budge any further.

“No way. There’s no way I could shoot anything feeling like this.”

“Do you even realize how many people you’re inconveniencing!?”

“You’re the one who made me do it!”

Unbelievable. Everything was always someone else’s fault with him. Kusuda clenched his fists and had to draw them close—because if he didn’t, he really would punch that face. That precious face of a rising Taiga drama actor.

Stay calm. No good would come from fighting fire with fire. It would just turn into a screaming match.

“We’ll talk about what happened after your shoot is over. For now, just go back to Okinawa.”

He made an effort to speak gently. Akizawa was wearing sandals, had nothing in his hands, and only a wallet stuffed in his jeans pocket. He must’ve boarded a flight to Tokyo with just that.

“I’ll go back… if you promise to stop being so mean to me.”

Are you a kindergartener!?

Kusuda’s fury almost exploded again, his nails digging into his palm. He forced it out with a deep, steady breath and grabbed Akizawa’s arm.

“Come on. We’re going. To the airport. We’ll talk in the taxi.”

Akizawa yanked his arm away and planted his feet.

“No. I’m not going back until you apologize.”

Kusuda felt dizzy. Apologize? For what? How was this his fault? When you’re in a relationship, not sleeping with other people is supposed to be the bare minimum. He had trusted him. And now he was the one being hurt.

He hadn’t been able to get anything done since hearing the truth. He was irritable. He hadn’t slept. And today… he looked like crap.

Ding—the elevator arrived. The doors slid open, and a group stepped out. Three technicians and Masamitsu.

“Huh? Isn’t that Akizawa-san?”

Masamitsu grinned, raising his right hand in a casual wave. Same shorts, same dirty T-shirt—like some middle-aged guy lazing on a beach.

“I thought you were filming in Okinawa. What are you doing back?”

Akizawa stayed silent, lips pressed into a sulky line. Masamitsu had no clue this man had bailed on his shoot and flown back to Tokyo unannounced. Not even in his worst-case imagination.

“Where are you going, Masamitsu?”

Kusuda threw the question back to steer the conversation away. Masamitsu scratched his head and said,

“There’s this new diner that opened nearby. Word is the lunch there’s really good. But it gets super packed, so we figured we’d take an early lunch break and go try it out together.”

Masamitsu looked at Akizawa.

“Wanna come too?”

“He’s flying back to Okinawa on a midday flight,” Kusuda cut in, grabbing Akizawa’s arm, trying to lead him outside.

But Akizawa shook him off with force.

“I told you—I'm not going back until you apologize!”

Even though there were other people around, he shouted, full of open hostility. The sheer lack of even basic social awareness from the man made Kusuda’s heart freeze. His temper had always been short—that had been obvious from their very first novelty shoot. If he pushed him any further, there was no telling what he’d blurt out. He might even casually reveal, without thinking, that he was dating the vice-president of the brand he modeled for and that they were currently in the middle of a lover’s quarrel.

There stood a flustered Akizawa, and across from him, Kusuda trying to contain him. Off to the side, the small crowd that had exited the elevator watched the scene unfold, sensing the tension.

Masamitsu must have picked up on the atmosphere. “I’ll catch up later. You guys go ahead and grab a table,” he said, sending the other staff out of the building.

Only the three of them remained.

A stifling silence settled around them.

Masamitsu studied Kusuda’s face, as if trying to gauge something. Unable to stand it, Kusuda averted his gaze.

“You two’ve been kind of off since last night… Did something happen?”

There was no way he could explain. No way he wanted Masamitsu to know. Kusuda clenched his jaw. He didn’t think he was in the wrong—not even a little. But he still wanted to fix this mess.

He raised his eyes, met Akizawa’s gaze, and said:

“I’m sorry about what I said on the phone last night.”

It wasn’t work, but swallowing such unfairness still burned. Still, he couldn’t let this get any messier. That’s why he apologized.

Akizawa let out a long sigh, slapped his own hip lightly, and muttered,

“You’re so stupid.”

“If you were just gonna apologize, you shouldn’t have said any of that crap to begin with.”

Kusuda’s temple twitched with the pressure of molten fury. His veins felt like they might snap.

“This was a huge pain, you know. But whatever. I forgive you. Take me to the airport.”

Even though his stomach was boiling, Kusuda couldn’t yell. He gripped his bag tightly, his hands trembling with rage.

Masamitsu, still trying to make sense of things, looked between them and asked, “Sooo, does this mean it’s all settled?”

“…Yeah, more or less.”

Kusuda’s expression was still tense and tight, in sharp contrast to Akizawa’s now visibly relaxed face.

“Still, Akizawa-san, you’re always flying around these days, huh?” Masamitsu said in his usual, lazy tone, trying to ease the tension.

“It’s all location shoots. But I’m off at night, so it’s not too bad.”

Akizawa’s mood had improved since Kusuda apologized. Now, he was staring at Masamitsu’s plaid newsboy cap.

“That hat’s cool. I should’ve worn something like that. On the flight back, people totally recognized me—it was annoying.”

Masamitsu chuckled and said, “Yeah, tough being a celeb,” before taking off his hat and plopping it on Akizawa’s head.

“You’re heading right back now, right? If you don’t mind an old man’s sweat-soaked hat, it’s yours.”

In that instant, Akizawa’s eyes lit up like a kid’s.

“Huh? Really? That’s awesome—thank you!”

Akizawa beamed as he admired his new gift. Watching him, Masamitsu gave a satisfied nod, patted him on the shoulder, and said, “Good luck with the drama. I’ll be watching for sure,” before heading out of the building.

“This hat’s great, isn’t it? I think it really suits me,”

Akizawa said, clearly giddy. Kusuda ignored him and stepped outside. Like the day before, the sky was covered in heavy clouds. The rain came in fits—sometimes harder, sometimes lighter—and now it hovered in that annoying range where you weren’t sure whether to open your umbrella or not.

“Rain’s not letting up, huh,”

Akizawa said, fanning himself with the front of his T-shirt.

“Okinawa’s hot too, but the humidity here’s no joke. Aren’t you hot, Masahiko?”

Since he often had to do outside visits or step in for Masamitsu in client-facing roles, Kusuda usually came to work in a suit. He’d take off the jacket when doing desk work, but for today’s print company event—where he might have to exchange greetings—he’d kept it on.

“I’m sweating, yeah.”

Before he could think about it, Kusuda shifted away when he felt fingers brush the back of his neck. Akizawa’s hand hung in the air awkwardly, his mouth half open to say something, but Kusuda walked to the curb instead.

He hailed a passing cab and ushered Akizawa in first. Just as he bent to get in himself, a thought struck him: What if I just shut the door right now and let it drive off?

“Are you getting in?”

The driver’s voice brought him back. If I did that, he’d just throw another tantrum.

“To Haneda Airport, please.”

He slid in beside Akizawa and gave the driver the destination.

“Did you at least buy your return ticket?”

Akizawa, sulking, shook his head. Kusuda took out his phone and looked up flights to Naha. There was one nearly every hour, and seats were still available.

“Masahiko, hey—”

Just as Akizawa started to speak, Kusuda’s phone rang. The screen showed “Numata.”

He immediately answered.

“This is Kusuda.”

Numata’s voice came through taut with urgency from the very first word. As Kusuda had expected, it was about Akizawa’s absence from set and the fact that he’d gone completely off the grid. Numata said Akizawa didn’t have many close contacts in his private life, and Kusuda was one of the few people he could think to check with.

“Apparently, one of his co-stars overheard him arguing with someone on the phone last night…”

Kusuda glanced at Akizawa, and their eyes met.

"I was talking first. Don’t just answer the phone when I’m talking," Akizawa muttered foolishly.

You idiot. And sure enough—

“Was that Akizawa just now!?”

There was no hiding it anymore.

“It’s Numata. He’s worried. Talk to him.”

Kusuda held the phone out, but Akizawa’s face twisted like he’d bitten into something foul. He wouldn’t take the phone.

“I’ve got nothing to say.”

Fine. Kusuda sighed and turned back to the call.

“Akizawa is in Tokyo right now. I’ve convinced him to return to Okinawa, and we’re on our way to the airport.”

“I don’t quite understand. Why are you with him?”

I can’t exactly say it was a lover’s quarrel…

“Actually, we had a bit of a fight on the phone yesterday. It seems to have really weighed on him. He said he needed to talk to me face-to-face, and that’s why he came back.”

“I see…” Numata muttered. All this over a fight? Kusuda could practically hear the thought behind the words.

“I may have spoken too harshly,” Kusuda added. “I didn’t mean to upset him. It was inconsiderate of me to provoke a sensitive actor under pressure. I’m truly sorry.”

He glanced at his watch.

“We should be arriving at the airport by four.”

“Understood. I’ll have Kuma meet him at the terminal. …Can I speak with Akizawa, please?”

Kusuda offered the phone again. But Akizawa turned his face away and clamped his hands shut like a toddler, refusing to take it.

“Stop running away and just talk to him.”

While they were still arguing, the taxi pulled up to the airport.

“He doesn’t want to take the call right now. But I’ll make sure Akizawa gets on the flight,” Kusuda promised Numata, then ended the call and got out of the cab in a hurry.

As if to spite him, Akizawa walked absurdly slowly.

“If you don’t hurry, you’re just making more people’s lives harder.”

Even as Kusuda scolded him, Akizawa sulked and pretended not to hear. With no other choice, Kusuda grabbed his arm and hauled him over to the ticket counter. While Akizawa was purchasing his ticket, Kusuda checked the departure board. The next flight to Naha was in thirty minutes—still enough time to get through security.

Watching Akizawa’s back at the counter, Kusuda was seized with the urge to leave. He’d brought him all the way to the airport. Wasn’t that enough? Wasn’t his role finished?

While he hesitated, Akizawa returned, grabbed Kusuda’s arm, and started walking—in the opposite direction of the security gate.

“Where are you going?”

No reply.

“If you don’t get to the checkpoint now, you’ll miss the flight.”

Still silent, Akizawa led him to the restroom. Kusuda was annoyed—he could’ve gone after getting through security. But complaining about every little thing would just make him more difficult to deal with. Kusuda bit back the words.

“I’ll wait outside,” he said, trying to let go of his arm. But Akizawa pulled him close instead.

“Come with me.”

“You’re not a kid. You can go to the bathroom on your own.”

Akizawa stopped and looked down at him, narrowing his eyes.

“If you don’t come in with me, I’m not getting on the plane.”

“What—?”

“I’m serious. Not joking.”

And just like that, he used blackmail to drag Kusuda into the restroom.

No one else was inside. Akizawa shoved him into the farthest stall and followed, locking the door behind them.

“This is insane. What the hell are you thinking!?”

Still standing in front of the door, Akizawa undid his jeans. He unzipped them and shoved them down with his underwear, revealing what Kusuda had seen so many times before, now limp and swinging.

“Suck it,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“…Hah?” Kusuda blinked. “We don’t have time for this.”

“I booked the 2:30 flight instead.”

Kusuda looked at his watch in a panic. There was still time to make the 1:30 flight. So why—

“Why the hell did you choose a later one!?”

“Because,” Akizawa shrugged, “I came all the way back. Wouldn’t it be a waste not to do something with you? We’re running out of time. Come on.”

He gave a needy little thrust of his hips. The sight was pathetic. Disgusting. Kusuda turned his eyes away, unable to comprehend how anyone could be aroused right now.

“I’m not in the mood.”

Suddenly, Akizawa slammed his palm against the wall.

“Why not? You apologized, didn’t you? You said sorry. If you feel bad, then show it—do something!”

Voices echoed into the restroom—people entering, maybe more than one. Akizawa’s half-naked body stood out in the cramped stall. Kusuda pressed him back toward the wall and hissed,

“Keep your voice down.”

“I don’t care if they hear.”

He didn’t sound like he was joking.

“Do you know who you are? You’re a public figure—a celebrity!”

“If you do what I say, I won’t raise my voice. We made up, didn’t we? So let’s do it like always.”

His fingers brushed Kusuda’s hair, and a chill ran down his spine. That familiar touch, which once brought comfort, now made his skin crawl.

Kusuda jerked his head away and stepped back. Akizawa muttered irritably, “Still mad?”

“I’m the one who forgave you, Masahiko. Don’t forget that.”

He whispered it directly into Kusuda’s ear.

“I’ve put up with so much, and even came all the way back to Tokyo just to hear your apology—so what more do you want from me?”

From Akizawa’s perspective, this was probably his idea of making a huge concession.

When Kusuda didn’t respond, Akizawa leaned in, his beautiful face drawing closer. The signal of an incoming kiss made Kusuda want to flee—but he held himself still and let it happen.

Akizawa’s kisses were always persistent, but today his tongue moved even more slowly, tangled more thickly than usual. No good. He couldn’t focus. It felt wrong. Disgusting.

Just hurry up and end it already…

The moment dragged on, a stretch of time he endured in silence, until finally their lips parted. Akizawa, looking satisfied, gently stroked Kusuda’s wet lips with his fingers.

“Come on, do it here. I’ve wanted Masahiko to do it for so long. I knew—no one else feels right but you.”

The blunt, thoughtless words struck a nerve. Had he already forgotten why Kusuda was angry in the first place? Did he really not understand how it would feel to be compared to someone else—especially by your own partner?

Akizawa pressed him, impatiently repeating, Come on, hurry, hurry…

Kusuda didn’t like giving oral sex. He never had. He hated it—but up until now, he’d done it anyway, solely out of love, just wanting to make Akizawa feel good. But not anymore. Not even if someone paid him.

He didn’t want to put his mouth on something that had been inside someone else. Not anymore.

“Masahiko… do you not love me?”

There was a hint of a barb in Akizawa’s voice. The good mood restored by that kiss had already begun to waver again.

Common sense didn’t work on this man. He was like a child who didn’t know how the world worked.

…Kusuda sank to his knees, feeling wretched. That thing, which had been pressed insistently against his thigh since the kiss, was already half-erect, angled with anticipation.

The tip was already glistening with moisture, swaying slightly, red and dark. Had it always looked this... grotesque? He couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to.

As Kusuda hesitated, staring at it, his hair was grabbed. His face was shoved into Akizawa’s crotch, and Akizawa began to move his hips, grinding against him in that position. Coarse hair brushed his lips, and the shaft grazed against his nose.

“I—I’ll do it… Just stop…” he pleaded in a small voice.

At his quiet plea, the hand tangled in his hair let go.

The sheer emptiness of being coerced into giving oral sex in a public airport restroom made Kusuda’s eyes sting. He fought back the tears threatening to well up and opened his mouth.

Just ten, fifteen minutes…

He told himself it would be over soon, repeated it like a mantra—and took the now hot, heavy thing into his mouth, drawing it in tightly.

After just a few sucks, it hardened like a rod. Apparently, just having his lips work along it wasn’t enough—Akizawa pressed both hands down on Kusuda’s head and began to thrust his hips violently.

It was the first time he’d ever been treated so roughly, and the shock left him reeling. The tip rammed repeatedly into the back of his throat, again and again, cutting off his breath. Someone… help me…

What if I just bit down on this filthy, violent thing? Kusuda wondered. Would Akizawa double over, writhing in pain with his hands between his legs?

That grim fantasy dulled the edge of the reality he was enduring. Still buried deep inside, Akizawa gave a warning.

“I'm about to come—but don’t swallow it.”

After a few more thrusts at the back of his throat, Akizawa came.

The lukewarm liquid splattered inside Kusuda’s mouth, its raw, bitter scent rising into his nose. He gagged, nearly throwing up. Then Akizawa’s left hand appeared in front of his face.

“Spit it here,” he ordered.

Without resistance, Kusuda did as he was told, expelling the bitter taste into his palm.

Akizawa grabbed Kusuda by the arm, hauling him up from where he was crouched. He pushed him against the restroom wall so they were facing, then slipped a hand around to his stomach and began unfastening his belt.

“Hey—don’t tell me you’re planning to do this here…?”

He didn’t even finish the sentence before his slacks and underwear were yanked down to his ankles.

“No—!”

Kusuda twisted his body, resisting with a voice barely above a whisper.

“Why don’t you want to?”

Despite having taken his pleasure at the cost of Kusuda’s pain, Akizawa’s eyes burned with anger.

“We’re lovers, aren’t we? So why would you hate having sex with me? You do love me, right?”

No matter how humiliating things had gotten before, at least it had always been in a hotel or at home.

“Not… not in a place like this…”

Doing it standing up in a public airport restroom—it was animalistic, as if it was nothing more than a way to get off. He absolutely hated it.

“You don’t like the bathroom? But if we can be connected, does it matter where? You love me too, right? If I want it, then you should let me have it whenever I ask. You love me, don’t you?”

It wasn’t about love or not—it wasn’t that simple. What Kusuda hated was how crude and meaningless it felt, doing something like this in a place like this. Why couldn’t Akizawa understand that?

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Come on, spread your legs. I’ll get you ready.”

Without warning, fingers brushed over his entrance, and Kusuda nearly screamed. In a panic, he bit down hard on his own wrist. The restroom walls were thin—if he made a sound, anyone outside would instantly know what was happening.

The semen he’d spit out earlier was smeared along his entrance, and then, with no further warning, a finger slid in with a wet push. His whole body jolted in reflex.

“Relax. You used to be much softer. Go a little without it and you tense up right away. Not like girls—they’re always soft, you know?”

He whispered those vile words into Kusuda’s ear while twisting the finger inside him. It hurt slightly—maybe there wasn’t enough lubrication.

Kusuda clenched his teeth, thinking: Die.

This bastard—someone should just kill him. Right now.

Suddenly, the bathroom door bursts open.

A man who looked like a yakuza walks in and, without a word, shoots Akizawa—who recoils in terror, trembling. Still half-naked with his pants around his ankles, Akizawa collapses, writhing pitifully. Kusuda imagines looking down at his bloodied, lifeless body.

The thought makes him want to cry.

Even if an idiot like him died… it’s pathetic that I’d still have tears left to cry over it.

The finger was yanked out roughly, and before Kusuda could recover from the jolt, something even larger and more brutal was forced in.

The sharp intrusion—its sheer size and the stinging pain of being forcefully opened—made his back arch violently.

“…Yeah, Masahiko really is better than anyone else. It just fits so perfectly.”

Akizawa whispered dreamily as he thrust hard into him again and again. Feeling him moving inside, Kusuda couldn’t help but wonder—Who is he comparing me to? That actress, the one he’d so bluntly called a way to get off?

His chest ached like it was melting into something thick and dark.

Would it be easier if I convinced myself this was just a physical thing?

But the way Akizawa moved was far too rough for that. If there weren’t emotions involved, Kusuda didn’t think he could endure this.

No matter how much Akizawa stirred him up inside, Kusuda’s own arousal hung limp, lifeless.

Akizawa didn’t seem to care whether he was feeling anything or not—he just kept thrusting, using his body however he pleased. He used to touch Kusuda more, reach forward. But now, it was like he’d forgotten that part entirely.

Why? Kusuda wondered.

And then the realization hit—and with it, a wave of humiliation.

Women didn’t have penises. There was no need to touch anything.

Akizawa had forgotten—forgotten who it was he was inside. Forgotten who he was holding.

In something like this… where is the joy of being with someone you love?

Suddenly, the thing inside him was pulled out. The shock made Kusuda’s knees buckle.

There hadn’t been any sign that he’d come, but Kusuda figured it must be over—at least for now. He looked back, only to see that Akizawa was still fully erect.

He hadn’t worn a condom. Kusuda assumed he’d finish outside—but instead, Akizawa sat down on the toilet seat and patted his own knees.

“Come sit here, facing me,” he said, smiling innocently.

“Standing the whole time’s tiring.”

When Kusuda hesitated, Akizawa tugged his arm and pulled him down, seating him across his lap, straddling him.

He began unbuttoning Kusuda’s shirt but quickly grew impatient, grabbing the collar and yanking it forcefully to either side. Buttons popped off and scattered, exposing Kusuda’s chest.

Akizawa pulled him close, letting his tongue trace along a nipple. He licked slowly around the areola, teasing it with little bites, while one hand roamed down to grope Kusuda’s rear. His fingers pushed into the loosened entrance, prying it open and stirring it carelessly. Unable to withstand the wave of physical revulsion, Kusuda twisted his body away.

“You really do have such a sexy body, Masahiko. I bet if you worked at a brothel, you'd be super popular.”

Akizawa said it with a dreamy expression, and Kusuda felt his chest tighten painfully. What kind of person would ever feel happy being told that? What kind of lover—

“It’s like you were born for sex. Put it in yourself—mine.”

He didn’t want it. Didn’t want any of this. But if he didn’t do it, it wouldn’t end.

“You want something big, don’t you?”

The thing he wanted most to break—he had no choice but to take it in. Bracing himself, Kusuda lifted his hips and slowly lowered himself onto Akizawa’s erect length. For now, he had to give in. He had to do whatever it took to satisfy him—just to get him to go back to Okinawa.

“Move however you want—go ahead and enjoy me.”

What the hell is this? Because he was too tired to move, now Kusuda had to do the work?

He wasn’t feeling anything. It was nothing but pain and discomfort—so what exactly was he supposed to enjoy? Was this some new form of torture?

It almost made him laugh.

Akizawa probably thought of him as a living sex toy—something that moved on its own. And with toys, no care was needed. No kindness.

Fine, he thought. If I’m just a tool, then I’ll be one. He shut off everything inside him.

Though it hurt a little, he began moving his hips in slow, shallow motions. Then—smack—his rear was slapped, like a horse being goaded to run. The sting spread slowly across his skin.

“Move harder. I can’t feel anything like that. I won’t come if you keep going so soft.”

…Kusuda’s cheek twitched. Even though he thought he’d become a tool, that sliver of something like a heart still stirred.

“You’re usually way more into it than this. Can you even feel anything back there moving like that? Just ’cause we’re short on time doesn’t mean you get to slack off during sex.”

His heart kept freezing over, piece by piece.

With nothing left but the command to finish, Kusuda moved his hips mechanically, violently, just to get it over with. It hurt. It was exhausting. It was suffocating. Something inside felt like it was coming loose—like screws rattling in a machine about to fall apart. A tear slipped down and dropped from the corner of his eye.

Akizawa reached down and pinched Kusuda’s completely limp penis between his fingers.

“Huh… you’re not even hard today, but you’re crying. Guess it feels that good, huh? Looks like you’re gonna come dry.”

Even denying it felt pointless.

In the end, Akizawa said, “Still not enough,” and, still inside him, lifted Kusuda up.

With his back pressed to the wall, he was thrust into from the front, hard and fast. Each movement rammed deep, jarring his body. The friction burned, pain blooming inside.

Kusuda’s heart sank into something cold and far away. His insides began to go numb.

When Akizawa finally pulled out, spent and limp, it was only then that Kusuda realized— Akizawa had come.

The moment Akizawa let go, Kusuda couldn’t stay on his feet.

There was no strength left in his waist. He slumped down against the wall, his body folding in slow, broken movements.

The place that had been forced open and stirred so violently didn’t close right away. What had been released inside him began to leak out, pooling on the floor in a cloudy puddle.

Akizawa pulled his underwear and jeans back on, calmly dressing himself.

Kusuda, stripped of his shirt, sat there dazed in nothing but shoes and socks—barely dressed, nearly naked. Looking down at him, Akizawa smiled. Bright. Cheerful. As if nothing had happened.

“I’m heading out now.”

Akizawa crouched down and picked up the newsboy cap that had fallen to the floor. He tilted it stylishly on his head, like he was trying to look cool, then reached out and brushed his fingers along Kusuda’s cheek, still hanging low in exhaustion.

“You kinda look like someone who just got raped.”

He said something that froze Kusuda to his core—and then laughed, as if it were all some joke. While laughing, he pinched Kusuda’s nipple.

A dull pain sparked through him, and Kusuda let out a small involuntary sound—“Ah.”

“Oh? Making a needy little noise like that… are you trying to tempt me again? Feeling lonely now that you’re not full of me anymore? You want it again, don’t you?”

Still grinning, he kissed him. Then he slid his fingers into the place where Kusuda’s body was still leaking his desire.

“I’d give you me again instead of my fingers, but I don’t have the time—so be patient, okay?”

He toyed with the numbed, overstretched spot, and it stung faintly. Kusuda groaned low in his throat, and then, just as suddenly, the fingers withdrew.

“Yeah, no good. Watching you all sexy like this just makes me want to go again.”

“I’m leaving now, okay? Because the one I love is Masahiko—only Masahiko. So don’t get mad over stupid things anymore. And no more ignoring my calls. Even if it’s you, Masahiko—next time, I might not be so forgiving.”

Akizawa gave a soft “See you,” and stepped out of the stall.

Kusuda, too stunned to think, sat there in a daze until he sensed someone entering the restroom. That snapped him back to reality. He hurried to lock the door.

His suit and underwear were still crumpled beside the toilet where they’d been stripped from him. He’d apologized even though he hadn’t meant it, done things he hadn’t wanted to do—all because he wanted to make sure Akizawa went back to Okinawa. And in return, Akizawa had done whatever he pleased… then left him behind.

Rape. That was the word Akizawa had used.

And it was true.

This wasn’t sex between lovers. This wasn’t love. It was rape.

A sob escaped him before he could suppress it. Akizawa had said again and again, like a mantra, “Masahiko is the one at fault.” But he wasn’t. Kusuda hadn’t done anything wrong.

He had loved him—that was why he didn’t want him to sleep with anyone else. He had loved him—so of course he felt jealous. He had loved him—so he couldn’t stand being compared, especially in sex. He had wanted Akizawa to see that this time, he hadn’t felt anything. That it hurt. That he had wanted it to stop.

The feelings he had weren’t special or strange. They were just… normal. What anyone would feel when they were in a relationship—when they were in love.

So why couldn’t that man understand?

The tears wouldn’t stop. He curled up in the stall, crying, unable to breathe through the pain.

Why had he had to have sex in a public restroom? Why had he been stripped naked, come inside, left crying on the floor?

His nipples hurt. His body ached.

But it was his heart that hurt the most.

He’d been treated like a thing. And that… wasn’t how you treated someone you loved. There was no care. No kindness.

…A familiar chime rang out. A message.

He retrieved his phone from where it had been tossed into the corner of his jacket. When he saw the sender’s name—Akizawa—his heart nearly stopped.

Boarding now~ That was super hot doing it outside like that. Let’s do it somewhere weird again sometime! I’ll call you tonight.

The second Kusuda read it, he knew—he was done.

He really doesn’t get it. He understands nothing. He will never, ever understand another person’s heart.

With trembling fingers, he typed a reply.

Okay. Be safe.

He sent it. Then immediately deleted the message—and his own reply.

And then the tears poured out, uncontrollable, like something had snapped deep inside.

He was terrified by how much he cried.

I wish everything could disappear. Like that message—just vanish. If only all of today could vanish…

I wish Akizawa, who went to Okinawa… would never come back.

And he meant it. With all his heart.

Previous TOC Next