Second Serenade: Chapter 35

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Filming for Kakegawa’s parts wrapped up a day earlier than the final scheduled shoot. Leaving alone felt a little cold, but after everything, he was done with drinking. Making the excuse that he couldn’t afford to take any more time off from university, he boarded a bus home that very day.

He soon grew tired of staring at the scenery outside the dull bus window, and his mind drifted back to that blackout night of drinking. He got stuck on his own words—“my body still wants them”—and the memory wouldn’t go any further.

Jostled by the swaying bus until it made him dizzy, he finally arrived at the stop near his apartment around eleven at night. Seeing the light of his building glowing faintly in the distance gave him an inexplicable sense of relief.

He turned off the highway, took a left at the three-way junction, and then a right at the dead end. His apartment came into view. As he slowly climbed the iron stairs at the back of the building to the top floor, he noticed a black shadow sitting in front of his door. It must have heard his footsteps—it was watching him.

A dark figure was crouched on the ground, hugging its knees in front of the door. Even in the dim light, it was unmistakable: Hashimoto’s cheeks were gaunt, and a dark, reddish-purple bruise stood out on his left cheek.

Despite always being so particular about appearances, Hashimoto’s hair was unkempt as if it had been left to dry after a wash. He wore light blue plain pajamas and had thrown a cotton long coat over them. Bare feet peeked out from a pair of unfashionable brown sandals.

“I can’t get inside, can I?”

Hashimoto flinched, his back jerking upright, but still didn’t move from in front of the door.

“This is your fault.”

The words spilled from pale, trembling lips.

“I can’t trust anyone anymore. Everyone’s badmouthing me behind my back—I know it. Even the department chief… It’s awful. Suddenly saying I’m being transferred to the Hokkaido branch? That’s just a convenient way of getting rid of me. I don’t want to go to a place like that.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it…”

Kakegawa offered the words like a nod, but they didn’t seem to reach Hashimoto’s ears.

“I don’t want to see anyone. I didn’t go to work one day, and then it became a habit, and now I’m barely hanging on—almost fired.”

He dug his nails into his scalp, clawing at his hair.

“I got into a good university, joined a good company, worked hard—I had it all. I was perfect. So what was wrong with me? What the hell did I do wrong?”

Curled up on the ground, the pale skin of his neck peeked out from his pajama collar. Just that one patch of color was enough to make Kakegawa ache with arousal. The fact that he felt something, just from that—he knew there was something wrong with him.

He bent his knees and crouched down like talking to a child, bringing their eyes to the same level. But Hashimoto wouldn’t look at him. Lost in the chaos of his mind, he simply stared blankly around, his mouth slightly open and his gaze wandering restlessly.

“What happened to your face?”

Muttering softly to himself, Hashimoto looked up when he felt a gentle finger brush his left cheek.

“My dad... hit me. I told him I like men and that I won’t get married, and he hit me. He asked if that was the reason I broke up with the daughter of one of the company’s clients. I told him it wasn’t, but he didn’t believe me... He’s never hit me before. My mom started crying, and my sister won’t even speak to me. I feel like I can’t breathe at home. It’s suffocating...”

His heartbeat gradually quickened, and anxiety stirred in his chest. He tried to rein in his racing thoughts and told himself to stay calm. Hashimoto no longer had a place at work or at home. Even his sky-high pride had been pulled down, and now he trembled right in front of him. The only person he could turn to was Kakegawa, and he’d been pushed so far that he even revealed his secret to his parents.

If he reached out his hand now, Hashimoto would fall easily into it. But what would happen if even Kakegawa, the last line of defense, rejected him too? He was clearly already deeply wounded, and yet... Kakegawa couldn’t stop the curiosity that made him want to push further.

“I told you, didn’t I? That being with you wears me out. What, did you actually take me seriously when I said I’d take care of you if you came out to your parents?”

Hashimoto looked up. His crooked teeth clicked audibly as he clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing and lips twisting in despair.

“You really believed that? I told you I was joking, didn’t I?”

Kakegawa said it with a casual tone. All color had drained from Hashimoto’s face, making him look like a lifeless doll. That doll’s stiff fingers clung to the sleeve at Kakegawa’s elbow.

“You’re saying it was a joke? Do you even realize why I finally told my family what I’ve been hiding all this time? If you hadn’t said that, I’d never have told them. Not even if it killed me. Take responsibility... You have to—”

Kakegawa brushed his hand away harshly, and Hashimoto recoiled as if burned, pulling his palm back against his thin chest.

“Listen, I’m a minor*. What the hell are you doing, an adult talking like this to a kid?” (*in Japan, the legal age of adulthood was 20 until 2022. At the time this story was written, anyone under 20 was still considered a minor in legal terms, even though they could be university students.)

He spoke slowly, as if explaining something.

“I’m sorry I led you on. But you’re really pitiful. You can’t go back to your job or your family, and now even I’m saying no... What are you going to do now?”

Hashimoto swayed to his feet. Before Kakegawa could stop him, he bolted. Kakegawa scrambled to chase after him. Hashimoto was running down the dark staircase, but somewhere along the way, his foot must have slipped. His body wobbled dangerously for a moment—then with a loud crash, he tumbled all the way down.

“Hashimoto-san!”

He was lying face-down at the bottom of the stairs. Kakegawa rushed down and scooped him into his arms. It looked like he’d smashed his face directly—his forehead was scraped badly and already bleeding, and blood was dribbling from under the fingers he held against his mouth. The pale blue pajamas were smeared with red.

Hashimoto spat something out with a soft plop. A bloodstained fragment of white enamel.

“My tooth... broke…”

He murmured in a daze, not moving at all. Kakegawa gathered him up in his arms and hurried back up the stairs. As he passed a neighbor peeking down toward the noise, he ducked his head in apology and dragged Hashimoto back inside. Straight to the bathroom. He stripped the pajamas off him right away—the fabric was torn in several places, stained with blood, and clearly useless now. Kakegawa tossed them straight into the trash.

He carefully washed the scraped skin with warm water. Hashimoto’s body was shockingly cold to the touch. Sitting there in the steam, he stayed completely silent, dazed, letting Kakegawa do whatever he wanted without resistance.

Once the wounds were clean, Kakegawa wrapped a bath towel around Hashimoto’s waist and dragged his limp body to sit on the edge of the bed, as if he’d forgotten how to walk. He turned on the heater so the naked body wouldn’t get chilled. When Hashimoto tilted his head slightly, blood started dripping from his nose again, and he held it with his hand while looking up.

Kakegawa applied ointment to the worst scrapes on his right knee and shin and covered them with gauze. The cut on his forehead, despite the bleeding, wasn’t serious, so he stuck a few bandages over it and was done. Hashimoto kept rubbing under his nose, and once the bleeding finally stopped, he lowered his gaze again. His face was a total wreck.

Kakegawa couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Hashimoto bit his lip and looked down in silence. Teasingly, Kakegawa tugged on the damp strands of hair falling over his forehead.

“All right, now that I’ve treated your injuries… time for you to go home.”

Hashimoto didn’t say anything. His fists, clenched tightly on his lap, were trembling.

“Can you… lend me some clothes? The ones I came in, you threw them away.”

His muffled voice barely carried.

“What if I said I didn’t want to lend you anything?”

When Kakegawa leaned in to look at his downcast face, he saw tears welling at the corners of his eyes.

“You want me to go home naked? Don’t humiliate me any more than this!”

“Go pick up what’s in the trash, then.”

When Hashimoto tried to stand, Kakegawa pushed down on his shoulder and made him sit again.

“I’m joking.”

As Kakegawa laughed while saying it, Hashimoto covered his head with both hands and started crying out like a child.

“I want to go home, I want to go home…”

He repeated it over and over between sobs.

“You can’t go back anyway.”

When Kakegawa muttered that, Hashimoto glared at him.

“Anywhere’s a hundred times better than here!”

Kakegawa gently stroked the bare back that kept hitching with sobs. Maybe he felt it, or maybe he was afraid—his body flinched.

When Kakegawa softly pulled him into an embrace, Hashimoto pushed against his chest with both hands, putting distance between them.

“You’re going to… sleep with me?”

The question was like that of an innocent girl.

“The price for the room. Not a bad deal, right?”

Hashimoto shook his head slowly, still hanging his head.

“…I don’t want to. I don’t want you to hurt me anymore.”

Kakegawa roughly lifted his chin, and Hashimoto’s lashes trembled as if scared.

“Don’t act like a victim only when it’s convenient. Get over that selfish personality. Didn’t you use my body however you liked, too? Otherwise you wouldn’t have dumped me so easily.”

“Then what the hell do you want me to do?! What would make you happy? I listened to all your crap, and now you want to use me as your stress relief? Why the hell do I have to be treated like this?!”

Tears poured down like a waterfall. He sniffled, rubbed his eyelids, and the tears that streamed down his cheeks soaked into the bath towel at his waist.

“…I just want to die.”

Kakegawa embraced the sniffling body. He held down the feeble resistance and pushed him onto the bed. When he did, Hashimoto winced and said, “It hurts.” No matter where he touched him, Hashimoto kept saying, “It hurts.”

Kakegawa brushed back his bangs and laughed a little at the comical sight of all the bandages plastered like a child’s. Maybe that laugh meant something else to Hashimoto, because it made the tears gush again from his broken tear ducts.

“I’ll decide how you live from now on, Hashimoto-san. You’re sick of thinking, aren’t you?”

He whispered as he kissed his neck.

“Just do what I say.”

He pulled away the bath towel and touched the shrunken member beneath. It was limp between his fingers, lacking any firmness. He gently kneaded it, treating it like a soft, damp little creature. He pressed the tip, stroked it.

“It’s kind of cute.”

The unresponsive organ finally began to swell, stiffly lifting.

“Like a living thing.”

Thick, clear fluid dripped down Kakegawa’s fingers and stained Hashimoto’s thigh. Their eyes met—but Hashimoto quickly shut his. Then, he wrapped his arms around the still fully clothed Kakegawa’s back and clung tightly. Kakegawa stroked his soft hair and pulled him close, kissing him—not playfully, but seriously. There was a faint taste of blood.

“You love me, don’t you?”

After a long silence, the answer finally came.

“I couldn’t help it… you were the only one I had.”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

In the dark of night, it hadn’t been visible, but come morning, peeking at Hashimoto’s face, it was a stretch to call him even remotely attractive—he looked more like something out of a haunted house. His forehead was plastered with half-peeled bandages, a red bruise marked his left cheek, and under his nose, a smeared trace of dried blood still lingered. Even so, catching himself staring, Kakegawa couldn’t help but let out a small, sheepish laugh. The wounds on his face, the marks of having been beaten—thinking of them as part of the road that had led Hashimoto to him made even those seem endearing.

He gave a soft groan and turned over in his sleep. Kakegawa wrapped his arms around the body that slipped into his embrace and kissed him deeply, despite it being first thing in the morning. Roused from light sleep, his lover blinked open his eyes. When Kakegawa helped him sit up, he slumped against him, weak and heavy.

“My whole body hurts.”

“Well, you did fall pretty hard down those stairs.”

As he gently rubbed Hashimoto’s back, the man hooked his arms around Kakegawa’s neck and clung to him. The gesture was honest, unguarded—something about it made Kakegawa’s chest warm. But then...

“I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday.”

Whispered against his ear, the words instantly killed the mood. The sweet, tender air evaporated, and still trying to recover the atmosphere, Kakegawa asked:

“Want to go out and eat?”

“I don’t want to move.”

Hashimoto stared straight into his eyes. Just as Kakegawa was drawn toward him for a kiss, his lips were stopped by a hand pressed to them.

“A croissant, salad, and coffee would be nice.”

He even placed a detailed order.

“There’s no way I’ve got that here.”

“Convenience stores carry it.”

Apparently, that was his way of saying go buy it.

“How about we go out for lunch later? Would just coffee do for now?”

Hashimoto, still wrapped in Kakegawa’s arms, pressed closer and copied his usual habit—licking his earlobe. He whispered sweetly.

“I’m not trying to be difficult, but can’t you even grant a wish this modest?”

“…Fine…”

Yesterday, everything had gone Kakegawa’s way. Now, somehow, it felt like he was being expertly manipulated. Just last night, the man had been crushed, broken… yet here he was, completely transformed after a single night. Maybe Hashimoto was tougher than he looked.

Slipping out of bed to throw on clothes for the convenience store run, Kakegawa glanced back. Hashimoto had poked only his face out from beneath the sheets, watching Kakegawa’s back the entire time.

“If you get too demanding, I’ll toss you out.”

He said it as a warning, but Hashimoto didn’t even flinch.

“You wouldn’t give up on me that easily.”

Hashimoto murmured it with quiet confidence, then smiled dazzlingly as if seeing straight into Kakegawa’s heart, raising one hand in a carefree wave.

“Hurry back. No detours.”

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