B.L.T: Chapter 09

Previous TOC Next

Since there was no parking space at his apartment, Omiya left the Doira in the bookstore lot and walked with him the rest of the way. They turned off the main road, passed a vending machine on the corner, and arrived at a small three-story building. Neither of them spoke a word along the way. Omiya braced himself, ready for the moment he might be rejected. But that moment never came. Instead, he was allowed inside.

The long, narrow room had a small kitchen up front, with about six tatami’s worth of flooring in the back. Aside from a pipe-frame bed and a low table, there wasn’t much furniture, yet the place felt cluttered, because it was. With the edge of his foot, Kitazawa kicked a pile of clothes to the side. “Just sit anywhere around there,” he said, pointing vaguely at the table.

Omiya obeyed and sat down. The boy went to the kitchen, pulled a PET bottle of tea from the fridge, and set it carelessly in front of him. Omiya thanked him and took a sip. Something crinkled uncomfortably against his hip; probing with his fingers, he pulled out a balled-up black T-shirt. Snatching it back, Kitazawa stuffed it hastily under the bed. Yes, he had always been terrible at tidying. Even when he came over to Omiya’s place, he’d turn the room upside down and then fall asleep in the mess without a care.

Facing each other across the table, the silence grew heavy. Gathering his resolve, Omiya stood and went to him. Flustered, Kitazawa scrambled back and sat down on the bed.

“You, you said we were just going to talk,” Kitazawa stammered, words tumbling out in a rush.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“It’s not that, but…”

Omiya sat beside him. Kitazawa’s shoulders twitched at the contact, but he didn’t pull away. Maybe it was because of that question. He kept his head down, rubbing his fingers together restlessly, until at last he lifted his face and asked:

“Do you… want to have sex with me?”

The question was blunt.

“Yes. But if you don’t want to, I’ll just go home.”

Again, his gaze dropped.

“It’s not like I don’t want to. I just… wonder if it’s really okay.”

“Do you think you’ll regret it?”

“No, it’s not like that, but…”

That troubled expression, the way he sighed, Omiya found it endearing. He said he doesn’t hate the idea. Trusting that, Omiya reached out to touch his hair. Soft, like stroking a puppy. He felt the boy start to tremble beneath his hand, but pretended not to notice and kissed him. Slowly, while kissing, he pressed Kitazawa back onto the bed. Pinned against the sheets, he drew that well, shaped waist closer to himself.

“Wait, wait a second.”

Kitazawa pushed at him, halting his momentum. The urge to simply give in and take him was fierce, but Omiya forced himself to pull back, yielding to the plea.

“I… I need time to think.”

“How much?” Omiya brushed back the hair near his ear. “Five minutes? Ten? An hour, or a day? I can’t wait that long anymore.”

With a pained look, Kitazawa muttered, “Go take a shower. I’ll think while you’re in there.”

Omiya obeyed. In the cramped unit bath, he washed himself. The thought alone, that every night, Kitazawa stood here showering, was enough to excite him, hardening him at once. Just atmosphere was enough to make him throb; it hadn’t happened that easily since his student days.

As he washed his hair, a thought gnawed at him, that when he stepped out, Kitazawa might already be gone. “I need time to think” was probably just an excuse, a way to buy time before running away. The urge to touch him as soon as possible wrestled against the dread of seeing an empty room, until at last Omiya decided to dress fully before leaving the bathroom. He couldn’t bear the thought of standing there in nothing but a towel if he found himself alone.

But Kitazawa was still there, sitting on the bed just as before. The moment Omiya emerged, he darted past him, slipping quickly into the steam, filled box of the bath.

The wait that followed stretched unbearably long. Time dragged, to the point where Omiya nearly stormed into the bathroom again and again. An hour later, Kitazawa finally came out, fully dressed, like Omiya, his face flushed red from the heat of the shower. He walked up to where Omiya sat at the edge of the bed, and once their eyes met, he murmured quietly:

“What is it people are thinking when they have sex?”

Omiya rose, took his right hand, and pulled him close. The instant the boy stumbled into his chest, his mouth began to spill words without pause.

“I don’t get it. I mean, if you just want to come, you can use your hand. You don’t need someone else, don’t need to go through all that trouble, you can still feel good.”

Running both hands through Kitazawa’s damp hair, Omiya smoothed it back.

“Masturbation and sex are different. Haven’t you done it with someone you liked before?”

Kitazawa’s uneasy expression made Omiya wonder.

“You’ve never had sex?”

Immediately, Kitazawa flushed scarlet and tried to wrench his hand away. But Omiya, determined not to let go, only drew him closer. Knowing it was his first time, shameful as it was to admit, it stirred him even more.

“You never had the chance before?”

“I hate it!” Kitazawa shouted.

“I hate sex. Getting naked, touching all that messy stuff, it just feels gross. Isn’t it weird?”

“Because it’s between two men?”

“No, that’s not it, it’s just—”

Omiya cut him off by pulling him into a tight embrace. In his arms, the thin body stiffened and shrank even smaller.

“I love you,” he whispered, looking straight into his eyes.

“Because I love you, I want to see everything. I want to touch everything.”

Kitazawa stared back at him, wide-eyed at the confession.

“I want to have sex with you.”

Omiya kissed those beautifully colored lips. The boy trembled but did not turn him away. That alone convinced Omiya, with baseless confidence, that he wouldn’t refuse him again.

The pipe-frame bed groaned and shrieked with every movement, sounding ready to break. Slowly, taking his time, Omiya undressed him completely, then kissed along the curve of his neck while rolling the small buds of his chest between his fingers. Even a little pressure made his thin back arch high.

“Stop… I don’t like it.”

Omiya silenced the protest with a kiss. Those wet eyes pleaded with him.

“Don’t touch me there!”

But all he’d touched so far was his chest.

“Why don’t you like it? Doesn’t it feel good?”

“…It makes my hips feel numb… weird.”

Omiya laughed softly, stroking his hair.

“That’s exactly what makes it feel so good.”

From lips to collarbone, he kissed down deliberately to the very spot Kitazawa had begged him not to touch. He sucked and nibbled, savoring the spring of the sensitive flesh beneath his mouth. Kitazawa’s sobbing moans sent electric shivers racing through Omiya’s spine.

Kitazawa had said he hated sex, yet just from kisses and caressing to his chest, he was already hard, leaking a wet stain across Omiya’s shirt. That beautiful thing twitched visibly, begging to be touched. Unable to resist, Omiya slid his hand down from chest to groin, but the moment his fingers brushed through pubic hair, Kitazawa panicked and slapped his hand away.

“Don’t touch me!”

He turned onto his side, covering his erect penis with both hands. Curled small, his back rounded, and Omiya held him from behind. Over the hands stubbornly guarding himself, Omiya placed his own.

“Does it feel disgusting when I touch you?”

As he asked, he lightly bit the slender line of his neck. The moment Kitazawa’s back shivered in response, Omiya sucked harder.

“I don’t like being seen like this.”

“But I’m the only one looking.”

“Even so, I hate it.”

Taking his right hand, Omiya guided it to his own crotch. He was still clothed, but even through the fabric the arousal should have been clear. Tentatively, almost fearfully, his fingers traced Omiya’s shape. After leaving a half-tormenting touch behind, Kitazawa muttered, “You take your clothes off too. It’s not fair if it’s just me.”

While kissing him, Omiya deftly stripped away his clothes. Yet even though he had demanded it, the moment Omiya was fully naked, his eyes darted about restlessly, as if at a loss.

“It’s pressing against my stomach,” Kitazawa whispered in a thin voice.

“Yeah, it is.”

When Omiya rubbed the tip against his belly, his expression twisted as though he might cry.

“Do people really all do things like this?”

Omiya pressed a light kiss to him and stroked his hair.

“Then how can they do this and still walk around in public like nothing’s happened? Damn it.”

Kitazawa squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

“It’s embarrassing… it’s pathetic.”

What he called pathetic might have been the way his legs, once pried open by Omiya, could no longer close. Omiya brushed his cheek against the faint flush of his face, then bit at his ear.

“You’re adorable.”

“That’s a lie.”

He shook his head fiercely.

“You’re really adorable.”

Whispering, Omiya pressed down on the hand still shielding his crotch.

“I want to touch you. Let me.”

“No! Absolutely not!”

Kitazawa kept repeating that he didn’t want to be touched, over and over. In the end, he gave in, loosening his guard at Omiya’s promise of “just once.” Finally exposed, Kitazawa was already dripping wet. Neither especially large nor small, the shape was of a beautiful color, and when Omiya gripped it firmly in his right hand, Kitazawa let out a sharp cry.

“I knew it, I hate this…”

Even as he squirmed and twisted his hips to escape, Omiya did not let go. Stroking slowly up and down, then pressing firmly against the narrow tip, drew a glistening spill from the head. As his body writhed in torment, Omiya kissed him deeply, their tongues entwined, while his other hand reached for the tightened entrance. With a wet fingertip he slid into the tight entrance. As expected, the body beneath him bucked wildly, but Omiya pinned him with his weight, carefully pushing a single finger in to the base, making sure not to cause harm.

“No, not there, I hate it…”

Kitazawa pleaded through lips wet with saliva. Murmuring reassurance, “It’s all right, it’s all right”, Omiya twisted his finger inside, and a ragged cry escaped him.

“This is to prepare us to make love. I won’t stop.”

Whispered at his ear, the protest was sealed with a kiss. Fondling him in front while waiting for the tension behind to ease, Omiya added fingers one by one. By the time three were inside, he spread them gently, gradually readying Kitazawa to take more. He wasn’t in a hurry; he would spend all night if needed until the inexperienced body adapted. Untouched by anyone else before, this body would not be hurt. He wanted to make Kitazawa say it felt good. Judging by the feel that the passage had loosened enough, he withdrew his fingers and guided the tip of himself inside.

“Can you tell I’m inside a little now?”

Tears welled in his eyes as he shook his head.

“…It’s numb, I can’t tell…”

When Omiya pushed halfway, Kitazawa gave a short gasp.

“No… stop, I don’t want this…”

Though he thrashed, Omiya held him down and pressed slowly until fully inside. However much he had prepared him, the inside was still narrow, and unbearably hot.

“It’s all the way in,” he murmured dreamily.

“That’s a lie,” came the shaking denial. But when Omiya shifted his hips, their bodies moved together, making the truth undeniable. Flustered, Kitazawa kicked out, but Omiya bent his legs and held him closer, drawing them into a position of deeper union. Taking his hand, he forced Kitazawa to touch the joined place, to recognize for himself how that hidden part had opened wide to accept him. Sobbing, Kitazawa struck Omiya’s chest again and again.

Though desire urged him toward roughness, Omiya restrained himself, moving slowly for the sake of his inexperienced partner. Even so, as soon as he began to thrust, the other’s face twisted with pain. Balancing the sting behind with stimulation in front, adjusting angles in search of that hidden spot, Omiya could not find it before his climax came. He had no choice but to pull out, for he wore no protection. Pressing against the flat belly, he spilled there instead, only for Kitazawa to cry out, breaking into loud sobs that shocked him so much he nearly leapt.

“Wh, what’s wrong?”

Lifting the weeping body upright, he was clung to desperately. Omiya held him tight, stroking his sweat-damped back until the sobs softened to only occasional sniffles. Clinging to him in tears like this, Kitazawa seemed unbearably endearing. Even though he hated showing his tear-streaked face, Omiya kissed him over and over. Tangled together, they lay back on the bed, and as gentle caresses continued, Kitazawa drifted toward sleep. Suppressing the lingering ache in his own body, Omiya simply held him all the tighter.

Omiya was the one who fell asleep later, but he was also the first to wake. When he opened his eyes, the unfamiliar ceiling left him unsure of where he was. But the warmth at his side brought back vivid memories of the night before.

Kitazawa lay face-down, breathing softly in sleep. Pulling back the sheet, Omiya saw the elegant line of his shoulders and back, faint red marks scattered there, traces of his own kisses. That he had actually had sex with him last night still felt unreal. What if, upon waking, Kitazawa said, “It was all a lie”? With that anxious thought, Omiya stared at his sleeping face. A lightly tanned neck, a slim back. He had held him so tightly so many times, and yet the feeling in his arms was already fading into uncertainty.

Bending over him from above, Omiya pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck. As he did, Kitazawa stirred faintly in his sleep. When he tried to pull away, Omiya followed, holding him from the side. He slid a knee between his legs, and with his fingers brushed against the erection stiff from morning. Just a few strokes, and Kitazawa came easily, spilling into Omiya’s hand. This time, Omiya took the release with the tip of his tongue, savoring what he hadn’t had the leisure to taste the night before.

Afterward, Kitazawa pulled the sheet over his head, curling up tightly.

“What’s wrong?”

There was no answer. Even when Omiya stroked him gently over the sheet, he stayed hidden. Unable to resist seeing his face, Omiya tugged the covers off from the foot of the bed. Kitazawa jumped up in surprise, fumbling to gather the sheet back, but most of it was already on Omiya’s side.

Clutching desperately to what little was left, he was pulled close along with it and kissed. Not a childish kiss, but one deep and adult, a lover’s kiss. A wet sound echoed between them, and the remaining sheet slipped from his hands. Pressed together so closely that their bare arousal rubbed, Omiya devoured him, fingers tangling in soft hair, hands gripping the firm waist.

He stroked the wet lips with his thumb, cupped the delicate outline of his face in both hands. Looking into those moist eyes made him want to kiss him again and again, endlessly.

“Cute,” he whispered without meaning to.

His face flushed red.

“So very cute.”

Embarrassed, Kitazawa buried his nose against Omiya’s shoulder to hide. His warm breath against the skin only deepened the tenderness Omiya felt.

“Did you hate the sex?”

Kitazawa shook his head. …It made him happy.

“Did it feel good?”

After a moment’s hesitation, he answered, “A little.”

“If you get used to it, it’ll feel better and better.”

“In what way?”

Kitazawa lifted his face and asked, showing plain, innocent curiosity. Faced with such directness, Omiya struggled for an answer.

“Your voice won’t stop, for example…”

Kitazawa frowned.

“That would be embarrassing. I don’t want that.”

Omiya brushed back the hair that had fallen over his forehead.

“But I want to hear your sweet, sexy voice, over and over.”

“Like, moaning ‘ahh, ahh’?”

The utterly unsexy way he said it left Omiya speechless.

“What? Don’t make that face at me.”

Kitazawa scowled, sulky.

“Well, we’ll take it slow.”

When Omiya stroked his head, Kitazawa stuck out his tongue with a bleh. Omiya silenced those unlovely lips with his own. Tangled together, the two of them rolled across the sheets. Laughing as he shook his shoulders, he slipped away, and Omiya chased after him. When he pulled him into his arms, the sound of laughter vibrated against his fingertips. Bright sunlight spilled through the gap in the curtains. The wall clock ticked steadily, marking the passage of time, and for today at least, Omiya thought he didn’t want to go to work. He just wanted to spend the whole day like this, tangled up with him.

When the clock passed 9:40, Omiya reluctantly released him and got out of bed. He would still make it in time for opening hours, but preparations would be delayed. As he began to change, Kitazawa remained lying on the bed, watching him intently. When Omiya finished dressing and turned back, he had rolled over, turning his back to him, and buried himself under the sheets.

“I have to go to work,” Omiya said.

Kitazawa only gave a curt hmph, as if sulking over the fact that they couldn’t be together. Still facing away, his smooth cheek peeked out from the sheets, and Omiya stroked it with his fingertips. “Can I come again tonight?” he asked. But Kitazawa gave no reply.

“I want to see you again,” Omiya said.

Still turned to the side, Kitazawa murmured in a small voice, “Do as you like.”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

That day, it was as if a screw had come loose in Omiya’s head. Even at work he drifted in a daze, and before he knew it he was remembering nothing but sex with Kitazawa. Just recalling the fresh, inexperienced reactions of someone who had never touched another’s skin before made his head buzz with a tingling ache, and he felt he could run to that room this very instant.

The loose screw showed in his work, too. He forgot to gift wrap a book, and when someone had requested a manga be set aside, he searched frantically through the shelves of novels instead. Usually, Hagiwara was the first to point out such mistakes, but even she seemed listless that morning. Omiya wondered if it was because she had been rejected yesterday. The thought left him conflicted. After all, it had been Hagiwara’s confession that opened the door for him and Kitazawa to speak honestly with each other, and through that, to make love. He couldn’t bring himself to cheer for a rival, but neither could he feel glad at Hagiwara’s rejection. So he softened his guilt by treating Hagiwara kindly.

He spent the whole day with a haze clouding the back of his mind, and at last closing time drew near. Omiya checked the day’s sales and the till, did only the bare minimum, and left work as quickly as he could. At the convenience store near Kitazawa’s apartment, he bought a boxed meal, underwear, condoms, and hand cream to use as lubricant. Even as he stood at the register he fidgeted impatiently, unable to wait. The cashier gave him a wry smile at the all, too, obvious shopping for an overnight stay, but he felt no embarrassment.

He ran all the way to the apartment. At his knock, the door opened at once, and there Kitazawa stood in a T-shirt and jeans. Out of breath, Omiya pulled him into his arms.

“You’re like a dog,” Kitazawa laughed. “You didn’t have to run so hard,” he added, brushing a light kiss against Omiya’s lips.

Unable to wait, they showered together, and once in the shower, they couldn’t help themselves. Even after moving to the bed, they stayed wrapped around each other endlessly. With the cream easing the way, Kitazawa no longer winced even when Omiya thrust deep. Though he had bought condoms, he forgot to use one, slipping inside bare. He meant to pull out before finishing, but Kitazawa came first while holding him tightly within. At that sudden clench, Omiya felt himself unravel, and before he could think he had spilled into that warmth.

“Sorry, I, I’m sorry.”

Kitazawa tilted his head, still pinned beneath him, as if he didn’t understand what had happened.

“I came inside. I couldn’t hold back…”

“Why is that bad? I don’t mind.”

Maybe he didn’t know. Yet the way he said it, so unknowing, so trusting, made Omiya ache with tenderness.

“If I finish inside, it might make your stomach hurt later. You wouldn’t want that, would you? Let’s shower again later. I’ll make sure you’re clean then.”

With a vague expression, Kitazawa answered, “Okay.” But afterward, he was furious. He clearly hadn’t expected Omiya to reach inside with his fingers and scoop it out.

After another shower, they slipped back into the sheets, clean again. The bed was a narrow single bed, so close that if they didn’t cling to each other they would fall out. Kitazawa pressed his face against Omiya’s chest, his eyes heavy with drowsiness. He could stroke his hair whenever he wished, kiss him whenever he pleased, hold him tight whenever he wanted. That happiness filled Omiya completely as he caressed him, until those sleepy eyes fixed on him in return.

“You’re crazy about me, aren’t you?” Kitazawa murmured.

The way he said it made Omiya want to scowl.

“I am crazy about you,” he muttered, then ruffled his hair roughly. Kitazawa wriggled in protest, thrashing until he nearly tumbled from the bed. Omiya lunged to catch him, but too late, they both slid down to the hard floor together.

On the wooden floor they clung to each other, kissed. Kitazawa looped both arms around Omiya’s back, pulling him close of his own accord, and whispered at his ear:

“Sex… it kind of scares me.”

“Scares you?”

He gave a small nod.

“It feels like nothing else matters anymore.”

His thin arms curled softly around Omiya’s neck.

“Even when I was asleep, I dreamed you were right beside me.”

He already knew he was the one who was obsessed. But in that moment, for the first time, Omiya wondered, was Kitazawa perhaps just as consumed by him?

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Early in the morning, when Omiya said, “I’ll go back once to change,” Kitazawa leaned against his back as he sat on the bed.

“It’s always the same shirt, so… maybe you shouldn’t get too close to my face.”

The shirt he’d worn for three days surely carried a smell, so he tried to warn Kitazawa, but the boy clung to him anyway. The warmth against his back was too dear, and he delayed leaving a little longer.

At eight o’clock, standing in front of his own apartment with his key in hand, Omiya hesitated to go in. It had been three days since he last came home. If he could just change without Chihiro noticing, it would be fine, but if he was caught, sharp words would be inevitable. With a sense of resignation, he opened the door.

Inside, the air was dim, heavy with a stagnant odor. The unfamiliar atmosphere unsettled him. The door to the living room stood open, and through it he saw liquor bottles scattered across the floor. That kind of mess was unlike the usually tidy Chihiro.

Moving quietly, he opened the bedroom door. A small mound rose in the middle of the bed, Chihiro asleep. Omiya carefully opened the closet and drew out a clean pair of slacks and a shirt.

“Welcome home.”

The voice behind him made him jolt. Turning, he saw Chihiro half-sitting up on the bed, watching him. His face was pale, almost porcelain.

“You don’t have to sneak around. Change openly. This place is your space too, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

At his excuse, Chihiro gave a faint, derisive laugh through his nose. He rose from the bed, staggering unsteadily toward him. Just as Omiya thought he might collapse, his knees buckled and he fell forward. Omiya caught him in a rush. Chihiro clung to him, trembling against his back.

“Where… where have you been…?”

“Where? I…”

When Chihiro lifted his face, dark shadows ringed his eyes, and his breath reeked of alcohol.

“These past three days, where the hell were you staying?”

If he admitted he’d been with Kitazawa, Chihiro would only grow more agitated.

“Takano told me. It’s that younger guy, isn’t it? He must be so much better, being young.”

“Chihiro…”

He spoke gently, careful not to provoke the man in his frenzy.

“I don’t know how late you were drinking, but you’re still drunk. Let’s talk properly after you’ve calmed down. I’ve got things I want to say too.”

But Chihiro shook him off and stood on his own, pressing a hand to his temple. He clicked his tongue over and over, stamping his foot in irritation.

“I don’t want excuses. Fine, I’ll forgive you. I’ll overlook one affair. But only one. Never again. And no more staying out without telling me.”

He jabbed a finger at him as he spoke. Omiya lowered his gaze to the hardwood floor.

“The other day, when I said I wanted to break up, that wasn’t just a threat to scare you.”

Chihiro’s eyes flew wide.

“I’ve fallen in love with someone else. That’s why, with you…”

“Don’t fuck with me!” Chihiro roared, hurling himself at him. The slap that cracked against his left cheek stung, but he didn’t resist. If this would ease his rage, then so be it. A second strike, a third, and then Chihiro collapsed in a heap at Omiya’s feet.

“I won’t. I won’t. Absolutely not. I’ll never break up with you.”

Clutching his slacks, Chihiro looked up, tears streaming down his face.

“Is he prettier than me?”

His pale lips trembled.

“Prettier, more stylish, better in bed?”

Listening grew harder with every word.

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then why? Why do you say you love him more than me? Explain it so I can understand!”

Grabbing the front of his shirt, Chihiro shook him, his tear-filled eyes locked onto Omiya. And then, softly, he whispered:

“…I love you.”

A sharp pain pierced Omiya’s chest.

“I love you…”

Unable to bear Chihiro’s weight, he sank down beside him. From his disheveled hair rose a sweaty odor unbefitting the neat man he knew.

“I won’t sleep with anyone else. No one. I swear.”

Those tear-soaked eyes wavered desperately.

“This time, I’ll keep my promise.”

Omiya brushed away the falling tears with his thumb.

“You should find someone who can take you in with a wider heart.”

“No… no…”

Seeing Chihiro in tears, Omiya wanted nothing more than to pull him close and comfort him, but he forced himself to hold back.

“As soon as a new apartment is decided, I’ll be moving out of here.”

Clinging to him and weeping, Chihiro suddenly raised his face, glaring at Omiya with dark, oppressive eyes.

“If you leave, I’ll kill myself.”

The low, threatening voice sent a chill racing down Omiya’s spine.

“If you leave, I’ll die. It’ll be your fault I die. All because of you.”

“Please… don’t say things like that.”

“Spend your whole life suffering under the guilt of abandoning me.”

Chihiro staggered to his feet.

“This isn’t a bluff. I’m serious. I really will kill myself!”

Hurling those words behind him, Chihiro bolted out of the room. Omiya ran after him. In the kitchen, slender fingers had already snatched up a fruit knife and, without a moment’s hesitation, slashed at his own wrist.

…It felt as if Omiya’s heart froze solid. His hands trembled as he struck the knife away, but it was too late. Red blood trickled down from Chihiro’s left hand.

“What are you doing…?”

Omiya’s own hands were stained, the sticky red clinging to his skin. Pressing a clean towel to the wound, he managed to stop the bleeding quickly, but the gash was still raw and ugly.

“I’ll cut myself again.”

Chihiro thrust the wound toward Omiya’s face.

“I’ll keep cutting until you say you won’t leave.”

Omiya lowered his head, covering his mouth with a hand. He couldn’t understand why Chihiro would go so far as to harm himself over whether or not they stayed together. He didn’t understand, but he knew at least that provoking him now would be dangerous. Faced with a man so quick to cry out I’ll die, Omiya had no idea how he could possibly move forward with breaking things off.

Previous TOC Next