Second Serenade: Chapter 19

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A faint sound stirred him awake. His eyes opened slightly. The room was dim, and for a moment he wondered if it was still night—but no, that wasn’t it. The sound of rain… it was raining. He pushed aside the sheets and climbed down from the wide bed. Pulling the heavy curtains open just a crack, he saw that a fine mist was clinging to the window glass in tiny droplets, obscuring the view outside.

The clothes he didn’t even remember taking off last night were neatly folded and placed on the chair beside the bed. Somehow, sitting there naked felt stupid, so he got dressed. The room seemed meant solely for sleeping: just the bed, a side table, and the chair he was sitting on. Sterile, clean, impersonal—like a business hotel. It felt suffocating.

Footsteps approached. The man who opened the door looked briefly surprised to find Kakegawa sitting there in the dim light, quietly slumped in the chair.

“I figured you’d come out once you woke up.”

“I just woke up,” Kakegawa replied.

“Come to the kitchen. There’s coffee.”

 

He followed the man out of the room. Yesterday, they'd gone straight from the front door to the bedroom, so he hadn’t noticed—but it was a fairly spacious apartment. Two rooms aside from the bedroom, a living room about ten tatami mats in size, and an open kitchen beyond it. At the man’s prompting, Kakegawa sat down at the counter table, and a cup of coffee with a pleasant aroma was set down in front of him.

“Once you’ve had that, I’d like you to head out. Leave the building, turn right, and walk along the road—you’ll come to a subway station.”

The man sipped his own coffee from the other side of the counter. He was wearing a white summer sweater and beige cotton pants. His bangs, which had been slicked neatly back yesterday, were now down over his forehead. Looking at him like this, he almost seemed to resemble him—the teacher. Last night, he’d kept brushing those bangs back and kissing his forehead over and over.

Even before the lights were turned off, Kakegawa had closed his eyes, trying not to look at the man’s face, focusing only on the sensation. This is sensei’s neck. This is his slender chest. This heat at the center of him. When his own core was squeezed almost painfully by soft, moist flesh, the thought that sensei would hold me like this too sent a shudder down his spine.

Their eyes met, and the man gave him a faint smile.

“For someone who said it was his first time, you did alright. Our compatibility wasn’t bad.”

He didn’t remember what sweet-talking nonsense he’d used—something about love at first sight, maybe. He had followed the man despite his resistance, barged into the apartment, and pushed forward aggressively. But the man hadn’t refused all the way. Only when it came time for penetration did the man, who had been cooperative up until then, suddenly start raising hell about using a condom. When Kakegawa ignored him and forced his way in, the man turned bright red with anger. Eventually, Kakegawa said it was his first time—which, technically speaking, it was… at least for the man. That finally got him to quiet down.

But the man’s movements had been anything but inexperienced. He clung to him, grinding his hips. Frankly, Kakegawa barely had to do anything.

“And one piece of advice: if you’re going to initiate something like this, you should take responsibility and come prepared. Also, this is a matter of personal preference, but I don’t like it when people finish inside. I let it go yesterday, but still…”

The coffee tasted bitter. The sharpness spread slowly across his tongue. Is this how things are between men? Saying things like ‘wear a condom’ or ‘don’t come inside’? Even after having sex, was it normal to act so blatantly indifferent to someone you barely knew?

He’s an unpleasant man. No matter how handsome, no matter how soft his words, the underlying meanness couldn’t be hidden. It was clear in every gesture, every glance.

I loved him… Sensei. I wanted to hold him. And if I couldn’t, then I just wanted to hold someone—anyone. Pretend it was him. Comfort my pathetic, miserable self, even if it was a lie.

That’s why I chose this guy. If it had been someone genuinely kind, Kakegawa would’ve drowned in guilt for using them like this. But with someone this unpleasant, it felt okay to use him—even just a little.

The sound of the man setting his cup down brought him back to himself.

When he looked up, the man was staring at him.

"If I go home like this, will that be the end of it?"

When Kakegawa asked that, the man looked at him with amused eyes.

"Yeah, might as well be clear. I went along with it yesterday, but to be honest, younger guys aren’t really my thing. You're barely in your twenties, right? I'm thirty-one. With a ten-year age gap, we don't have much in common to talk about, and even if I force myself, it’s just exhausting."

"I like you."

The words came out easily. And they carried a sorrowful tone. It was amusing—despite inwardly looking down on and despising men who liked other men, he could still outwardly sound heartbreakingly sad.

"I don’t want to part ways like this."

The man raised his eyebrows and looked at Kakegawa as if he were a troublesome child.

"Well, I’ll admit you're one of the better-looking ones I’ve been with lately. I might consider it."

He chuckled quietly, pinching Kakegawa’s short bangs between his fingers.

"If you behave and be a good boy, maybe I’ll see you again."

He spoke in a whisper. So that’s how it is—if he just plays the obedient one, he can get touched, have his body enjoyed again.

"I didn’t catch your name."

When Kakegawa asked, the man tilted his head.

"Did I not tell you? It’s Hashimoto. Michiya Hashimoto."

"Michiya..."

Hashimoto frowned slightly, arms still crossed.

"You’re just gonna call me by my given name? I don’t like being addressed so casually by someone younger."

"Michiya-san."

"It’s more proper to call someone by their last name."

"Hashimoto... san."

Seeing Kakegawa obey so meekly, the worst kind of man, Hashimoto, gave a leisurely laugh.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Even if you went to the same university, if your departments were different, naturally your required classes would be, too. It became rare to run into old high school classmates on the wide university campus. They each formed new circles of friends and their routines changed, so even when they did bump into each other, they barely had any shared topics and would exchange only a few words.

In early July, the air conditioning in the second lecture hall wasn’t working well, and the back of his T-shirt was damp with sweat. When class ended and he stepped out into the hallway, it actually felt cooler out there. Third period had been canceled, and Kakegawa was standing in front of the bulletin board, debating whether to skip the afternoon classes, when someone suddenly called his name loudly.

Wearing dull beige cotton pants and a short-sleeved denim shirt thrown on like a jacket, with messy hair and those same thick-bottomed glasses as always—no matter how you looked at him, Hayashida looked like the classic broke college student. He came running over, calling out as Kakegawa turned around.

"Want to grab lunch? I’ve got something to talk about."

They’d been in the same class in their second year of high school. They still talked a bit during their third year, but hadn’t had much contact since entering university. Always a little dense, Hayashida spoke to Kakegawa in the same tone as before, completely unbothered by the subtle distance Kakegawa felt between them. It was oddly endearing, and Kakegawa found himself smiling and nodding at the invitation.

"Is the education department busy?"

At the packed cafeteria, overflowing with students, Hayashida asked this as he set down the second-cheapest oyakodon on the table. Kakegawa set his tray with the daily special across from him and answered, "Not really."

"I’m just going through the motions. First-year classes are pretty much the same no matter what department you’re in."

"Is that so?"

Hayashida tilted his head. This high school friend hadn’t changed at all. It wasn’t like there was some clear line between high school and college that would make someone transform overnight, but even so, Kakegawa felt a twinge of envy toward his friend’s unshakable pace. Or maybe it wasn’t that Hayashida hadn’t changed—maybe he was the one who had.

He felt a wave of self-loathing. If I told this innocent friend of mine that I was seeing a man I didn’t even like... what would he say?

That I’ve been having frequent sex with a man more than ten years older who I’ve only known for less than a month...

But that was just a passing thought. He couldn’t actually say it out loud.

"Didn’t you have something you wanted to talk to me about?"

When Kakegawa prompted him, Hayashida, who had been absorbed in his food, looked up.

"Oh—yeah. Summer break’s coming up soon, right? Do you already have a part-time job or anything planned?"

"Not really."

After pretending to hesitate a bit, Hayashida got straight to the point.

"I want you to be in a movie."

Kakegawa knew that Hayashida, a movie buff, had joined the film club at university. Kakegawa had checked out a few clubs himself, but none had really clicked with him, so in the end, he didn’t join any. If he had a hobby, it was motorcycle touring—but that wasn’t something he felt the need to join a university club for, and besides, he already had some biker friends. At first, he’d thought he would focus seriously on his studies. But the real reason he’d chosen the education department in the first place had been a faint hope that he might end up working alongside the person he used to like. After finding out who that teacher’s partner was, though, all his motivation had fizzled away.

"It’s not through the club or anything. Just on my own—I’ve got this scene I really want to film. When I read the script, the image just exploded in my head. I totally hit it off with the guy who wrote it, and we agreed to make it together, but we don’t have any actors."

The first thing that crossed Kakegawa’s mind was What a pain.

"Try someone else. I can’t act for crap."

"Yeah, I figured you’d say that... I kinda had a feeling. It’s asking a lot, especially during summer break..."

Hayashida’s voice trailed off weakly. Come to think of it, Hayashida had always been a bit of a pushover. Kakegawa figured that if he pushed back a little, he could get out of this, and sure enough, he soon heard a soft sigh.

"It’s too much to ask, huh..."

When Hayashida muttered that, half-resigned and eyes cast downward, Kakegawa felt a twinge of guilt. Whether Hayashida had real talent as a director or not, there was no denying he was serious about filmmaking.

"It’s such a good script..."

"What’s it about? Just tell me the basic plot."

Hayashida looked up, visibly brightening.

"The main character is a teenage boy. He’s in a band and dreams of making a major debut. He’s also in love with a cute girl. For him, it’s the best time of his life—he’s got love, dreams, and hope. Then the scene shifts, and we see him as an adult. One day, he remembers the dreams he used to have as a teenager, and it makes his current life feel suffocating. That’s the story."

It was a vague explanation, and Kakegawa didn’t fully get what it was about, but Hayashida spoke with shining eyes.

"And I’m supposed to play that boy?"

"Yeah. The one whose dream falls apart."

"A boy, huh..."

He muttered. Hayashida's gaze was intense—full of hope. Kakegawa had asked out of curiosity, but now that he’d let the conversation go this far, it was hard to turn him down. In the end, he had no choice but to say, "Alright."

"If it doesn't take too much time, I’ll do it."

"Really? That’s awesome!"

Hayashida beamed with genuine joy.

"Don’t expect too much, though. I’ve never acted before. If I totally suck, don’t come complaining later."

He gave a fair warning.

"I really wanted you, Kakegawa. When I read the script, your face was the first thing that came to mind."

Hayashida returned to his half-finished oyakodon. Kakegawa popped the last piece of cutlet into his mouth, picked up his empty tray, and stood.

"There’s this amateur contest called the ‘Film Festa’ hosted by a company called Z Cinema. If we can, I want to submit it there."

As they parted, Hayashida added, "I’ll call you later with the details."

Hayashida had something he was passionate about. He was single-minded and serious about it.

But me...

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