COLD HEART in NEWYORK: Chapter 5

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Akizawa returned from Okinawa and showed up at the CRUX office a little after 4 p.m., his arms laden with souvenirs. The craftsmen in the workshop, along with Miyamoto and Itsuki, were visibly delighted by the gifts.

“I’m back~,” he called out, smiling with a subtle tan still on his face as he threw his arms around Kusuda’s back—brazenly, in broad daylight at the office. Kusuda, enduring the presence, scent, and feel of him, returned the greeting with a carefully crafted smile, “Welcome back.”

Apparently, a magazine interview had been scheduled, so Akizawa only stopped by briefly to drop off the souvenirs before heading out again. Still, he didn’t forget to pass along the restaurant reservation details and the time to Kusuda.

“I might be a bit late, but wait for me, okay? You can start eating if you want,” he whispered, kissing Kusuda lightly on the ear just out of sight behind the door.

Unlike Kusuda, who had remained on edge the entire time Akizawa was there, Akizawa himself seemed completely unfazed. As if the argument over the phone and the scene at the airport had never happened, he behaved just like always—no, in fact, he was in an exceptionally good mood.

At 7:30 p.m., Kusuda arrived at the creative cuisine restaurant right on time. Akizawa hadn’t arrived yet. Led to a private room, he waited alone in the calm and quiet setting. He sipped beer by himself while waiting for Akizawa. The man of the hour showed up about thirty minutes late, his face fresh and carefree, apologizing with a light “Sorry.”

Kusuda thought he had mentally prepared himself, but the moment he saw him in person, his body trembled.

Akizawa launched into his usual monologue, talking nonstop. Kusuda responded with neutral nods and reactions, which made Akizawa squint his eyes happily in response.

The food was light and artistically presented in small portions. While Akizawa remarked on how delicious everything was, Kusuda could hardly register the taste. His stomach churned with anxiety over what was to come, and he left some of the food uneaten.

The meal—tense, flavorless, unenjoyable—finally ended, and they left the restaurant. While scanning the street for a taxi, Akizawa suddenly came up beside him and gripped his left hand tightly. Kusuda flinched in surprise.

“Wanna go to a hotel?”

Akizawa whispered by his ear, and Kusuda swallowed hard.

“We’ll be alone faster than if we go home.”

That sticky, smoldering gaze clung to him. Kusuda lowered his eyes to avoid rejecting him outright and said, “I think I’d rather just go home and relax,” while gently squeezing Akizawa’s hand in return.

Akizawa squeezed it back even tighter and nuzzled his forehead against Kusuda’s. “If that’s what you want, let’s go home.”

As soon as they got into the back of a cab, Akizawa sprawled out and curled against Kusuda’s lap.

“Man, I really do love Tokyo,” he murmured, contentedly smiling. One arm slid around Kusuda’s waist, slowly drifting lower, hidden from the driver’s view. His hand slid over Kusuda’s slacks, groping toward the back, and pressed suggestively against him.

Kusuda clenched at the intrusion.

Just bear it. This is the last time, he told himself, enduring the groping in silence.

They finally arrived at Kusuda’s apartment building. Maybe emboldened by the grope session in the cab, Akizawa clung even tighter to him as they walked.

Inside the elevator, Kusuda pressed the button for the floor above his.

“You hit the wrong one,” Akizawa said, reaching to press his usual floor, but Kusuda caught his hand.

“There’s been a leak in my bathroom ceiling lately. And your place is right above mine, isn’t it? Can you check it for me? I’m calling the landlord tomorrow.”

Akizawa tilted his head.

“But there was no one in my apartment. How could there be a leak?”

“Maybe it’s something with the pipes. Just in case.”

“Then why not tomorrow?”

He wrapped his arms around Kusuda from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. Kusuda stroked his head like soothing a child.

“I’ve been stressing about it for a while. Please,” he said in a soft, coaxing voice.

Though Akizawa looked displeased, he let out a sigh and muttered, “Fine, fine.”

On the floor above, Akizawa unlocked his front door. The place was dark, heavy with the stale scent of an unventilated apartment.

The entryway light came on. The hallway was cluttered with moving boxes—some still unopened—and in the gaps between them sat a waist-high potted plant, now brown and shriveled from neglect.

Akizawa twirled his key ring casually.

“Kaito, do you still have a copy of my apartment key?”

“Yeah.”

“Mind lending it to me? I think I left mine at the office.”

“Right now?”

“It’s a good chance to get a spare made tomorrow. Before I forget.”

He slipped Kusuda’s apartment key off his ring and handed it over. “Just need to check the pipes, right? Wait here.”

He took off his shoes and walked down the hallway—the same layout as Kusuda’s—and disappeared inside.

Kusuda gripped the returned spare tightly. Getting this back was the bare minimum. If things went badly, at least Akizawa wouldn’t be able to enter uninvited. No ambushes. No waiting inside his home.

Soon, Akizawa returned from the hall. “I checked the bathroom and the toilet—no leaks at all,” he said, shrugging.

“Then maybe it’s another apartment, or something with the pipes.”

As he stepped closer, Kusuda raised his voice firmly: “Stop right there.”

Akizawa stopped on command, like a well-trained dog, about three meters away.

“Let’s talk.”

Akizawa frowned.

“What’s with you? It’s been, what, ten days since we’ve had time alone. I just want to get to your place already.”

He took another step forward. Kusuda instinctively stepped back. That alone was enough to make Akizawa freeze.

“What’s wrong?”

Akizawa gave him a puzzled look. Kusuda couldn’t just say, I wanted to come to your apartment because I need to break up with you. That wasn’t something Akizawa would just listen to. That’s why he’d lied about the water leak.

A place where their conversation wouldn’t be overheard, and where—even if Akizawa got violent—it wouldn’t bother anyone else… he’d thought about every possibility, and this was the only place that had come to mind.

“I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

“Then why not just talk in your apartment instead of here?”

Ignoring Kusuda’s order to “stay,” Akizawa stepped forward.

“…I want to break up with you.”

Akizawa tilted his head slightly, blinking in confusion, lips parted in surprise. Even if Kusuda had tried to build up to it or drop hints, the conclusion would always have been the same. And Akizawa was the kind of person who’d never catch on unless told directly.

“I don’t get it. What are you talking about?”

He genuinely looked like he didn’t understand.

“I’m saying I want to break up with you.”

Akizawa raised a hand to his mouth—and snorted. Then he laughed out loud.

“Come on, don’t joke like that. If you were trying to scare me, it’s not gonna work.”

Even though Kusuda was serious, Akizawa didn’t seem to believe him at all.

“It’s not a joke.”

He insisted, his voice tense.

Akizawa gave a nonchalant shrug. “You say that, but we were all lovey-dovey just a little while ago.”

He pointed to the cab ride as proof—how Kusuda hadn’t resisted when Akizawa touched him inappropriately.

“That… I didn’t like it. I was just putting up with it.”

The laughter dropped from Akizawa’s face.

“I didn’t want to upset you. I needed to talk to you about this… here, in your apartment.”

Akizawa looked down and scratched his head, rough and unsure.

“But… we’re doing fine, aren’t we?”

Kusuda had expected him to shout, “Why are you suddenly saying this?!” and grab him—based on past behavior. But that didn’t happen. Akizawa’s expression still didn’t fully register the reality of the breakup.

“I can’t be in a relationship with someone who sleeps with other people while claiming they’re with me.”

“Eh?” Akizawa’s voice came out in a small, startled sound.

“But that’s over now,” he said. Just like that—over.

It stabbed through Kusuda’s chest. He had expected Akizawa wouldn’t understand how deeply it had hurt, but to hear him dismiss it as something in the past was still painful.

“There were already things you did that bothered me,” Kusuda said. “But I kept brushing them off. Told myself it was fine. That I could let it go. But I can’t anymore.”

Akizawa gave a flippant “Hmmph”, an infuriating sound through his nose.

“Then what exactly did I do that bothered you?”

Kusuda felt embarrassed just thinking about saying it aloud. But if he didn’t explain it, Akizawa would never understand.

“You started having sex with me while I was asleep… I told you so many times to stop doing that.”

Akizawa clapped his hands lightly. “Oh, that.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t keep doing it if you cried or said it hurt or something. But Masahiko, you’d get hard even in your sleep when I was inside you. And afterward, you looked like you felt good. I thought you were into it.”

Heat flared up in Kusuda’s cheeks. Akizawa stared at his face, studying it.

“If you didn’t like it, then maybe don’t look like you’re enjoying it when I’m inside you. It’s confusing, y’know?”

He didn’t even apologize. On top of that, it was like he was saying if it felt good, then you share the blame. A textbook excuse for a rapist.

Anger erupted in Kusuda’s chest, and his voice cracked into a yell.

“Normal people don’t start having sex with someone while they’re sleeping!”

His shout echoed sharply in the room, and once it faded, silence fell again.

Akizawa started jangling the keys in his hand. The tiny clinking noise scratched at Kusuda’s nerves. He just wanted to get away—away from him.

“I don’t want to be alone with you anymore. I don’t want to have sex with you again. That’s between you and me—so if you want to keep going to the CRUX office, or keep making stuff at Masamitsu’s place, go ahead. Do whatever you like. As long as you’re okay with it… I’d like you to keep working as the image model too.”

Truthfully, he didn’t even want to see Akizawa’s face for a while. He wished he wouldn’t come to the office at all. But Kusuda couldn’t bring himself to deny him that entirely—to take away his work, his foothold. Whether Akizawa accepted it or not, Kusuda would leave the modeling decision up to him. If he refused… Kusuda would just get down on his knees and beg Masamitsu for forgiveness.

Akizawa silently tossed the keyring up, then caught it again. Every time, it chimed—chari, chari—a light but grating sound.

“When did you decide you wanted to break up?”

Kusuda had kept up the act so as not to upset him. And the simple-minded Akizawa had fallen for it.

“The day I saw you off at Haneda.”

Akizawa’s cheek twitched. Then he shouted, “Don’t lie!”

“You still talked to me on the phone after that like everything was fine!”

“You’re the kind of person who’d ditch work over a lovers’ quarrel. I couldn’t let you mess up your shoot and inconvenience everyone else, so…”

The keyring clinked again. Chari, chari… Just hearing it made Kusuda want to scream.

“So you were faking the whole time, pretending you still liked me. Telling me to go check my apartment out of nowhere… I knew something was off. That water leak was a lie too, wasn’t it?”

“…I’m sorry about that.”

Kusuda bowed his head.

“You’re the worst, Masahiko. Lying like that—that’s what the lowest kind of person does.”

Something suddenly flew past Kusuda’s face with a sharp whoosh. It hit the door behind him with a loud crack, then clattered to the floor above the entryway.

It was the keychain.

He swallowed hard.

“What, you scared?” Akizawa sneered, his eyes lit with fury.

"I thought about hitting you with it," Akizawa said, voice mocking. "But I figured it’d hurt and you’d feel sorry for yourself, so I held back. The old me would've never forgiven this. Even now, I’m fucking pissed that you lied to me. But... if you apologize right now, I’ll forgive you."

Forgive me? Kusuda almost laughed.

“I don’t need your forgiveness.”

Akizawa’s eyes widened in fury.

“I told you to apologize right now!”

“You don’t have to forgive me. Just break up with me.”

Akizawa sucked in a sharp breath. His handsome face crumpled, like he was about to cry.

At last, the words were sinking in. That Kusuda truly wanted to break up.

He’d never expected it to be easy—but just to communicate I want to break up had already required this many words.

“I can’t be with you anymore. …I don’t want to be.”

“Don’t screw with me!” Akizawa snapped. “You’re the one who said you liked me! You teased me with that sexy body and made me fall so hard for you—you made me love you this much! So take responsibility!”

What he was saying was completely irrational, but at least he was responding—at least they were talking. Kusuda had feared they wouldn’t even be able to do that.

But Akizawa’s emotions ran high. If Kusuda’s feelings toward him were as thin as a thread, then Akizawa’s toward Kusuda were like a thick, heavy rope. How was he supposed to cut something like that?

Maybe… if he could make Akizawa feel fed up with him—

“You were violent and impossible to handle. I thought if I made you think I liked you, you’d be easier to control.”

Akizawa’s eyes widened with shock as he looked up at him.

“That’s why I didn’t correct you when you misunderstood my feelings early on.”

“…What the hell is that supposed to mean…”

“I wanted to keep things smooth between us. At first, I let you touch me because it was just like an extension of work. But it escalated, and I couldn’t push back anymore, so I ended up sleeping with you. Things got physical before anything else—but I did end up liking you. I tried to date you seriously. But… I realized I just can’t keep up with you. That’s why I decided we should break up.”

“Don’t fuck with me!!”

Akizawa shouted, his eyes red and wet with tears. He kicked one of the boxes nearby.

Seeing that expression—desperate and devastated—made Kusuda’s chest twist, just slightly. His heart was supposed to be completely over it. But hurting someone who still claimed to love him—that still stung.

“Dammit!!”

Akizawa yelled again.

“My chest hurts! It feels like it’s breaking apart! What the hell am I supposed to do if I die from this?! You lying bastard! You toyed with me—if it were anyone else, I’d have fucking torn them to pieces! But fine. Whatever. Masahiko, you’re a devil—you’re a goddamn bastard—but… it’s hopeless. You already know, don’t you? No matter what you say, I’ll forgive you. You know I’ll forgive you!”

Even in his rage, Akizawa didn’t lay a hand on Kusuda.

“You still love me too, don’t you, Masahiko?!”

Should he be honest?

If someone asked him whether he hated everything about Akizawa, he couldn’t say yes. That younger guy who clung to him with all his heart, who wore his emotions plainly on his sleeve—that boy had been adorable. Kusuda had loved him. That was why the cheating had hurt. That was why what happened at the airport had become a trauma.

As long as Akizawa kept thinking of his infidelity and their public sex as no big deal, there was no way to repair what was broken.

Akizawa wasn’t someone who lived within Kusuda’s bounds of reason.

His views on sex were completely his own—selfish, inconsiderate. Unless he changed that, it would keep happening again, every time he went on a long shoot.

Someone like Kusuda—an ordinary man—couldn’t keep up with someone like that.

“I still like the version of you that’s acting,” he said quietly.

Akizawa’s eyes flew wide open.

“From now on, I’ll support that version of you—as just a fan.”

Akizawa looked down.

The silence dragged on. Five minutes… ten minutes… he stayed slumped over, head hung low. He didn’t lift his face. Kusuda couldn’t see his expression, so he had no idea how his words were being processed.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t understand how disoriented Akizawa must be—suddenly hit with a breakup, having to listen to so many hurtful things all at once.

“I’m going back to my place.”

Akizawa finally lifted his face.

But his expression was blank—like a mask carved from stone, void of emotion.

“If you can’t accept it, I’ll talk to you again. As many times as it takes… but my feelings won’t change.”

There was no protest, no voice trying to stop him.

Though Akizawa had gotten worked up earlier, the moment never escalated into an ugly scene—no physical fighting, no screaming meltdown. For that, Kusuda was quietly grateful. Violence drained people in every way.

Akizawa was obsessive, so he might try something later—but Kusuda had already retrieved the spare key. At the very least, Akizawa wouldn’t be able to sneak into his apartment unnoticed.

He reached for the doorknob.

“Masahiko.”

The name stopped him.

He turned slowly to look over his shoulder.

What he saw was just a dark silhouette, backlit from behind—Akizawa raising the heavy pot of a withered houseplant high above his head.

Before Kusuda could even register what was happening, a crushing blow struck his skull.

Ah…

He was falling.

It was like a train passing through—a noise, a pressure—and then his awareness began to fade. His back slammed into the door. Then, like a puppet with its strings cut, Kusuda crumpled and collapsed into the entryway.

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