Second Serenade: Chapter 05

Previous TOC Next

Talking to Otomo during a shoot was next to impossible. That’s why Aketo chose the lunch break, pulling her aside into the shadow of a nearby building, away from prying eyes. Once he made sure they were alone, he told her that Sunahara apparently had a woman he still cared about. It wasn’t a lie — not exactly. There was indeed a woman Sunahara hadn’t forgotten, someone he still loved deeply, though whether the feeling was mutual was a different story. But Aketo wasn’t generous enough to tell Otomo that this woman was now someone else’s girlfriend. He only fed her the parts of the truth that were convenient, letting her draw her own, likely more hopeful, conclusions.

At first, Otomo listened with her breath catching, eyes wide. But as the reality of the words sank in, her gaze dropped, a glistening sadness pooling in her eyes. Now was the perfect moment. Aketo leaned in and whispered, his voice as gentle as he could manage.

"But it’s not like he said they were together. He just mentioned he had someone he liked. I’ll try to dig a bit deeper next time and find out more."

Otomo shook her head slowly, as if rejecting the very thought.

"No… it’s pointless. Someone like me doesn’t stand a chance."

If a girl like Otomo didn’t stand a chance, then what hope did the majority of women on this planet have? Aketo thought. But this was exactly the response he’d been aiming for.

"Is that really all your feelings for Sunahara-sensei amount to?"

He deliberately phrased it in a way that pushed her back, feigning indifference. If she gave up here, that would be just fine. Still, he needed to plant the image of himself as the supportive, understanding guy — a confidant she could rely on. At this stage, letting her catch on to his true intentions would ruin everything. He couldn’t push too hard just yet.

Otomo looked up at him, her face on the verge of tears, eyes shimmering with pure, unguarded emotion.

"I’m sorry. Even though you’ve been so helpful… I… I think I should ask him directly."

His heart skipped a beat. If she went to Sunahara now and confessed, it was all over. If things went well, Aketo would become the fool who had handed her over on a silver platter.

"I’ve made up my mind. You’re right. I can’t keep being scared."

He couldn’t tell her to stop — couldn’t just scream please don’t do this to her face. He had already said he would ask Sunahara for her, after all. But now Otomo’s expression had shifted, a new determination shining in her eyes as she looked up at him.

"Thank you. Really, thank you. But I’ve decided."

This is bad. Really bad.

The lunch break was almost over. Aketo hurried off, leaving Otomo behind, frantically scanning the area for Sunahara. He had to intercept them before they crossed paths. There was no way he could let Sunahara say yes.

He finally spotted Sunahara standing beside a vending machine near the park where they were shooting, chatting with Kakegawa. The two of them were laughing, their voices carrying over the hum of the nearby cicadas.

"Sensei, sorry to interrupt, but can I talk to you for a second?"

Both men turned to him, their laughter cut short. Kakegawa, usually hard to ruffle, wore an uncharacteristically sour expression at being interrupted.

"Can’t it wait?"

Sunahara, too, looked reluctant, clearly enjoying the conversation. But Aketo couldn’t afford to wait.

"It’s urgent," he said, his tone sharp and urgent enough to cut through the casual atmosphere. Something in his face must have convinced Sunahara, because he sighed and followed Aketo, leaving Kakegawa behind.

Aketo led him to the same quiet spot behind the building where he had just spoken to Otomo.

"So, what’s this about?" Sunahara asked, sounding a bit annoyed as he reached into his pocket for a cigarette, lighting it with a quick flick. He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling up into the summer air.

Aketo’s mind raced. He hadn’t come up with a plan, hadn’t thought this through, but he couldn’t waste another second.

"Minako Otomo is probably going to confess to you today. But I need you to turn her down."

"Otomo?"

Sunahara tilted his head, a flicker of genuine surprise in his eyes before his lips twisted into a crooked grin. Ignoring Aketo’s anxiety, he took another long drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out in a lazy, practiced exhale.

"And why exactly should I turn down Minako Otomo?"

"Are you really going to make me say it…?"

"Oh, absolutely. I'd love to hear it."

Of course, Sunahara already had a pretty good idea of how Aketo felt — at least nine times out of ten, the man had to have figured it out by now. Aketo felt a pang of regret. He’d picked a terrible approach. There had to be a better, more effective way… something that wouldn’t blow his cover and still let him keep Otomo for himself without any messy fallout.

His mind raced, churning through every trick and scheme he could think of, until finally, a particularly risky but potentially perfect idea surfaced. It was a move that would ensure no one but Sunahara ever found out, and still let him hold onto Otomo without any lingering complications.

"If I tell you the truth, you’ll regret it. Are you sure you’re ready for that?"

Sunahara let out a quiet, derisive snort.

"And what exactly do you think I’d regret?"

Aketo lowered his head, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his palm to his forehead as if in pain. When he looked up again, his eyes locked directly onto Sunahara’s, his gaze sharp, almost defiant.

"I’m in love with you."

"Huh?"

Sunahara’s jaw dropped. Aketo turned away, letting his shoulders sag as if weighed down by some unbearable burden.

"I’ve known for a while that Otomo-san has feelings for you. I’m jealous of her, honestly. She can stand up and say it out loud, right in front of people, without a second thought. I envy her for that. Meanwhile, I lie awake at night, tormented by the unfairness of it all, wondering why I’m the only one who has to suffer in silence. I know it’s unreasonable, a hundred times over, and I’m not asking you to accept a guy like me. But I just… I can’t stand the thought of you being with her."

When he glanced back, Sunahara’s face was a perfect picture of confusion, caught halfway between disbelief and bafflement, his cigarette hanging limply from his lips.

"If you accept her confession, I’ll die. Just so you know."

Aketo’s voice was eerily calm as he delivered the line, meeting Sunahara’s stunned gaze head-on.

For a moment, Sunahara said nothing, just stood there, mechanically puffing on his cigarette, clearly still processing the bombshell that had just been dropped on him. He didn’t spit the cigarette out, perhaps out of sheer shock, when Aketo reached over, plucked it from his lips, took a long drag himself, then placed it back between Sunahara’s slackened lips.

Sunahara’s body remained frozen, his eyes wide with disbelief, as if his entire system had short-circuited.

Aketo allowed himself a faint, wistful smile, one that he hoped looked appropriately bittersweet, before turning and walking away, leaving Sunahara standing there, still rooted to the spot.

Perfect.

As Aketo strolled back to the set, he felt a surge of satisfaction. It annoyed him to no end to have Sunahara think he was gay, but if it meant protecting Otomo from the man’s fangs, it was worth the price.

"I really should have gone into acting," he muttered to himself, marveling at his own quick thinking.

The moment he arrived back on set, the Fellini-wannabe director was already screaming at the top of his lungs, berating the cameraman.

"Aketo! You’re late!"

Even the sound of the director’s voice felt oddly refreshing. That was how good his mood was.

But of course, Aketo had no way of knowing that his little stunt — this hastily concocted defensive play — would end up causing him far bigger problems down the line.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

He’s avoiding me. That was Aketo’s impression of Sunahara after his "confession." Despite the strained, almost desperate look she’d had that day, Otomo-san hadn’t actually confessed to Sunahara.

Aketo’s original plan had been straightforward: Otomo-san confesses to Sunahara → Sunahara turns her down → Aketo steps in to comfort her → Once he’s gotten close enough to her, Aketo "admits" to Sunahara that he’s given up on him, creating a neat, mutually beneficial resolution. Sunahara would feel relieved that his student had returned to a "normal" path, and Aketo would get what he wanted. It had been a perfect plan.

But the whole thing fell apart if Otomo-san never confessed.

Until she did, Aketo had to keep up the illusion that he genuinely had feelings for Sunahara. That meant he couldn’t just sit back and wait; he needed to reinforce the idea in Sunahara’s mind. So, whenever they were alone, he started dropping lines like "I love you," holding Sunahara’s gaze a little too long, and generally acting the part of an infatuated student.

At first, Sunahara had been visibly startled, going out of his way to avoid Aketo and all his awkward advances. But over time, as the words kept coming, Sunahara seemed to grow numb to it, brushing off Aketo’s persistent declarations of love. Even the words "I love you" themselves had started to lose their edge, the impact dulling with each repetition.

"You’ve got no sincerity in your words."

Sunahara had thrown that line back at him one day, when they were watching a movie at his apartment. Sunahara had been lounging in his pajamas, while Hayashida, who’d tagged along as usual, was already passed out on the floor. Kakegawa had left earlier, citing his younger brother’s birthday as an excuse. Sunahara had been sipping a beer, looking so thoroughly content that it had made Aketo want one too.

"I want one," Aketo had asked, leaning closer.

"You’re underage," Sunahara had replied, his tone gentle but firm. "Just stick to juice."

Of course, this was the same teacher who let him get away with smoking, so Aketo had figured a single can wouldn’t hurt. He’d helped himself to a beer from the fridge, popping it open without a second thought. But the moment he took a sip, Sunahara’s mood had shifted. He’d turned his back, refusing to even look at Aketo.

Being ignored like that didn’t bother Aketo in the slightest. He’d kept drinking anyway, emptying the can and letting the gentle buzz soften the edges of his thoughts. Hayashida, as usual, was dead to the world, sprawled across the floor in front of the TV. Once he was out, nothing short of an earthquake would wake him, which gave Aketo a little extra courage.

He leaned over and draped himself against Sunahara’s back, his hands sliding around to rest against the man’s chest. It was the beer talking, no doubt.

"Quit clinging," Sunahara growled, shrugging his shoulder to shake him off.

Ignoring the resistance, Aketo pressed his lips to the side of Sunahara’s neck, where the faint flush from his post-shower beer lingered. The still-damp hair tickled his nose, carrying a faint, pleasant scent. Sunahara jerked in surprise, but Aketo’s arms, crossed securely over his chest, held him in place.

"I love you."

The words tumbled out in a half-dazed whisper.

"Your words don’t mean a damn thing," Sunahara snapped, his voice pitched oddly high. "You toss around stuff like ‘love’ and ‘I care about you’ way too lightly. You know how long it took me to say ‘I love you’ to the girl I actually liked? A whole damn year!"

"Wow… you’ve got a lot of patience," Aketo shot back, grinning.

"That’s not the point! I was just… bad with words!" Sunahara stammered, leaning forward as if trying to escape Aketo’s embrace. Aketo tightened his hold, his small, smug smile still lingering.

The warmth of Sunahara’s body, still flushed from his bath, was surprisingly comfortable. It felt good, almost dangerously so, to hold him like this. Aketo found his mind drifting, half-wondering what it might feel like to touch that warmth directly, to trace the contours of his body without the barrier of thin fabric.

To be clear, there was nothing sinister in the thought. In that moment, it was pure curiosity. Just an idle, unfiltered impulse, born from the simple pleasure of being close to another warm, living body.

Aketo reached for the button on Sunahara’s pajama top and undid the one near his chest, sliding a hand inside through the gap. The slightly damp, soft skin beneath his fingertips surprised Sunahara more than it did Aketo.

“Idiot, what the hell are you doing? Get your hand out!”

Sunahara shot upright, grabbing Aketo’s wrist. But Takuma Aketo was the sort of person who only got more stubborn when someone resisted. He braced himself, refusing to let his hand be pulled away, and in the struggle, one of Sunahara’s buttons popped off.

“Sorry, sorry.”

The fabric gaped open, exposing a strip of bare skin through the torn seam.

“Oh, I get it now.”

The problem had been trying to slip his hand through a narrow opening. If he just took the whole thing off, it would be easier. Without waiting for a response, Aketo moved to part the front of the pajama top completely.

“Quit it.”

The hands that tried to stop him only made Aketo push harder, shoving the fabric aside in one quick motion. He heard the sharp rip of tearing cloth and saw Sunahara’s body jolt in shock.

“So this is what it’s like…”

Aketo’s gaze wandered over the flat plane of Sunahara’s chest. He realized, a bit absently, that he’d never really paid this much attention to his own body either. He let his fingers trace the collarbone, down along the breastbone, then followed the ridges of Sunahara’s ribs, feeling the hard structure beneath the thin layer of skin.

“Like an anatomy model.”

He muttered the thought aloud, drawing a faint, breathless laugh from Sunahara.

“This little game is over.”

Sunahara grabbed Aketo’s right hand and pulled it away from his chest. In Sunahara’s grasp, Aketo’s fingers went limp, his head spinning. He felt the sudden loss of balance as if the ground had been pulled out from under him, and the next thing he knew, he was falling sideways, pulling Sunahara down with him onto the tatami floor.

“Ow.”

Sunahara groaned, trapped beneath Aketo, his body pressed awkwardly against the floor. Aketo’s left hand, caught under Sunahara’s chest, twitched in surprise as his fingers brushed against something small and unexpectedly sensitive. He squeezed lightly, and the body beneath him gave a sharp, involuntary shiver. Intrigued, he did it again, fascinated by the subtle changes in Sunahara’s breathing.

He’d never realized before that a man’s chest could be so reactive.

“Cute.”

He whispered the word close to Sunahara’s ear. Sunahara twisted, trying to break free, but Aketo was too close, too tightly wrapped around him. He flipped Sunahara onto his back, his flushed chest now exposed. The pajama top had slipped down his arms, barely clinging to his shoulders. Aketo gripped the hands still trying to push him away and pinned them above Sunahara’s head, holding him down with surprising strength.

Despite himself, Aketo felt his own body grow warm, an unsettling heat building in his chest, his pulse racing. He buried his face in Sunahara’s chest, brushing his lips against one of the hardened peaks, letting his mouth close over it without a second thought.

“No… stop…”

The sensation was unlike anything else. It was soft, warmer than any other part of Sunahara’s body. For a fleeting second, Aketo wondered if this was what it had felt like as a child, clinging to his mother’s breast. He sucked gently, tongue flicking over the warm skin, pulling a stifled gasp from Sunahara. It felt like he could do anything he wanted to this body, and for some reason, that thought filled him with a strange, drowsy satisfaction. Like dozing in a hammock on a warm afternoon.

Aketo closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the comfort of the moment, and the next thing he knew, his consciousness had slipped away completely.

Previous TOC Next