B.L.T: Chapter 12

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In the bathroom, Omiya stripped the soiled clothes from Chihiro’s body and washed between the legs of the man who would not move a single finger, until he was clean again. He dressed him in sweats, then carried Chihiro, who stood like a lifeless doll, into the bedroom. After laying him down, Omiya tried to rise from the bed, but his sleeve was tugged.

“I’ll take a shower and change, too,” he said.

Even so, Chihiro only shook his head, eyes wet with tears. With no choice, Omiya slid in beside him. Perhaps it was enough to feel him close, within reach, Chihiro began to drift into a doze. Omiya lay there sleepless, wondering how long this would go on. Would he be made to endure this exhaustion for the rest of his life?

He could sense that Chihiro loved him. But that love was relentlessly one-sided, paying no regard to his own feelings. He remembered the instant of release he had felt after Chihiro jumped, when he thought he was dead. Even through grief, there had been relief.

He could not imagine what would happen between them now. Would the phone calls continue, the same threads strung tight around him, unchanged? And yet Chihiro himself had admitted that making those calls was painful, that he did not do it out of desire. It hurt Chihiro, it hurt him. What meaning was there in remaining together when it was only suffering? At least on his side, there was nothing left to gain. What would wear away from now on were the memories of love; what would pile up instead… might be hatred.

It would have been better if Chihiro had died. If he hadn’t been caught on that ledge, there would be no continuation to this story. If there had been no drop beyond the fence, only the plunge to the ground below. Chihiro had been ready to die. He had accepted it. Then vanish in an instant, disappear from before his eyes. While Omiya could still call it “sadness.” While he could still weep for him.

How long must he go on waiting for the end? He asked the question to Chihiro’s sleeping profile. He didn’t want to appease him anymore, didn’t want to wait for him to decide when it was over. Whatever warped love peeked through, it only felt burdensome now. He didn’t love him anymore. Not if Chihiro raged, not if he resisted, he could not love him.

The thought struck suddenly: he didn’t need to suffer and wait for “the end.” He could end it himself. Here. Now. His gaze fixed on the slim line of Chihiro’s neck. If he only tightened his grip, it would be over in a minute or two. That was all it would take to conclude this hopeless relationship, to set himself free. No more guilt, pity, conscience, no more endless circling of thoughts about Chihiro.

He couldn’t look anywhere else but at that slender neck. Yes, Chihiro had wanted to die. He had known there was no love left for him, and he had wanted death. Then if Omiya killed him here, wouldn’t he have no complaint? To be killed by “the man he loved”, wouldn’t that be the very fulfillment of his wish?

Slowly, Omiya rose and looked down at him. His hands lay open, waiting for the impulse to flood through him. To reach out. To close on that neck.

If Chihiro died, Omiya would go to see Kitazawa. They would talk, make love, spend the whole day together. Plan outings, so many of them… He remembered, too, the unkept promise to make him sandwiches.

A breath stirred the air. A long sigh, and Chihiro’s eyelids fluttered. The long lashes trembled, then lifted slowly. Their eyes met. Drowsy, half-asleep, Chihiro murmured, “What is it?”

Omiya gave a faint laugh. I was just thinking of killing you, his voice said without sound. His fingers stretched out. Chihiro’s neck was warm; the tips of Omiya’s fingers throbbed as they brushed the nape.

…Would Kitazawa still love him, even if he became a criminal? The thought flickered across his mind.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

That morning, Omiya drove Chihiro to Takano’s café. He told Chihiro, “The shop is busy, they really need your help,” but the truth was different, Omiya had begged Takano to let Chihiro work there. Leaving him alone was too dangerous; who knew what he might do. This was babysitting, disguised as a part-time job.

Since Chihiro wasn’t working, he spent nearly every day drowning in idleness. When Omiya first suggested it, he had made a displeased face, but the moment he heard it was Takano’s café, he accepted without resistance. The uniform, something like a waiter’s outfit, suited him well. When Omiya praised him for it, Chihiro had looked faintly pleased, as though he wanted to hide his satisfaction.

After dropping him off, Omiya returned to the apartment and began preparing sandwiches. Not with plain bread, but with muffins, slicing the bacon and tomatoes thick, just as they did at Takano’s café. He wrapped the fresh sandwiches and slipped them into a small paper bag. The clock showed exactly eleven. He hurried through the cleanup and ran out to the car.

He had arranged to meet Kitazawa at the station. Standing on the shimmering asphalt, heat waves rising around him, the boy scolded Omiya for being ten minutes late. But even with that scowl, there was amusement tugging at his face.

It had been two months since they’d last gone driving together. July was half over now, and summer vacation was nearly upon him. Today was a Wednesday, normally a workday for Omiya, but he had forced himself to take leave, just to be with Kitazawa.

At first Omiya drove, but before long Kitazawa insisted he wanted to take the wheel. Omiya teased him by refusing, until he pouted, lips pushed forward in a sulk. Yet the moment Omiya relented and handed over the driver’s seat, his mood brightened again. At a red light, where no pedestrians were in sight, he leaned across and kissed Omiya boldly on the mouth.

The outing had been sudden, with no time to plan anything elaborate, but even a simple drive was enough. They wandered through a nearly empty weekday aquarium, watching the cool, gliding fish, stealing kisses in the dark. After a full circuit, they sat out on the terrace and ate Omiya’s sandwiches together. Kitazawa devoured his portion with wide, mouthed gusto, declaring them “Delicious.” When Omiya reached to wipe the messy corner of his mouth with a thumb, the same boy who had kissed him at a red light went crimson, looking down in embarrassment. Omiya thought he had never looked cuter.

When they left the aquarium, they went down to the sea. Even on a weekday, the beach was crowded. The weight of his shoes annoyed him, so he slipped them off and walked barefoot across the burning sand. They didn’t hold hands. One would drift ahead, the other fall behind, their stroll unfolding at its own unhurried pace.

“Do you get a summer vacation?”

Kitazawa suddenly asked.

“Yeah. Two or three days, maybe.”

“Will you go back home? To your family?”

Kitazawa tilted his head upward, peering at Omiya from below.

“No, I don’t plan to.”

Omiya’s right hand was caught in his.

“Then come to Miyazaki. I’ll teach you how to dive. If I ask my cousins, they can get you a license in just a two-day crash course. The written part isn’t that hard.”

He shook Omiya’s hand, eyes bright with excitement.

“You’ve never seen the world at the bottom of the sea, right? I’ll show you. The fish, the coral, everything is beautiful. Whether or not you get hooked on scuba depends on the person, but it’s worth trying. And once you have a license, the two of us can dive together here, too.”

Me, you… Kitazawa went on.

“I want to dive with you. I want to share the things I love. If we can enjoy them together…”

Omiya pulled him close and embraced him. He didn’t care about the people around them.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Kitazawa didn’t resist, only looked up with a puzzled face.

“Let’s go somewhere,” Omiya murmured.

“Somewhere new. Just the two of us.”

The boy stroked his head, gently, soothingly, like calming a child, but with a trace of unease.

“You’re getting sentimental, aren’t you?”

Kitazawa squeezed Omiya’s right hand, firm and warm.

“Something bothering you?”

He stared hard at Omiya, then let out a breath.

“Fine. We can go somewhere.”

It was a different answer than before. Omiya didn’t know how far Kitazawa’s imagination reached, but just that single response, we can go, felt like enough. He drew back slightly. The sun was blazing, oppressive in its heat, yet between them it felt as if a breeze had blown through.

“I want to break up.”

The words slipped off his lips with surprising ease. Kitazawa blinked, wide-eyed.

 

“I don’t want to see you anymore.”

The smile he always wore hardened, plastered in place.

“What are you saying? Out of nowhere, you talk about going somewhere, then about breaking up…”

“I’ve been with someone else for two years. I want to be with him.”

Kitazawa’s mouth fell half open, his eyes trembling as they fixed on Omiya. His hands clenched and unclenched again and again, restless with anger.

“But, you said you loved me. You said you’d stay with me, that I should never sleep with anyone else—”

Hearing his desperate voice, Omiya’s chest felt as though it were being torn apart. And knowing it would wound Kitazawa all the more, he delivered the final blow.

“I could say that to anyone.”

Those large eyes widened even further.

“That’s why I can’t go to Miyazaki. Or anywhere else, with you.”

The sound of the waves reached them. The boy asked nothing more, and he didn’t cry.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

At eleven p.m., when the café closed, Omiya went to pick up Chihiro. Takano pointed toward the back of the shop.

“He’s asleep,” he said. Chihiro wasn’t used to physical labor, always at a desk, with no exercise, so the sudden shift had clearly worn him out.

“Seems like he’s getting a lot better, don’t you think?”

Takano set an iced coffee in front of Omiya, who had taken a seat at the counter stool, and gave a small laugh.

“When I took him to the hospital after he’d downed those pills, I didn’t know what would happen. But now… as long as you don’t push him and give him a bit of a change of pace now and then, it looks pretty good, doesn’t it?”

Omiya took a sip. The coffee had a faint tartness to it.

“I guess it’s going smoothly enough. Chihiro was gushing about it the other day, ‘He really does love me after all,’ he said, grinning like an idiot.”

He stirred the cup with the straw. The ice clinked softly.

“Love, affection, saying someone’s cute… those are easy words.”

Takano tilted his head, watching Omiya with a puzzled look.

“If I stroke him gently, kiss him, fuck him, he doesn’t complain. If I flatter him, puff up his pride, he stays content. Compared to before, when he’d call me every thirty minutes, even while I was working, monitoring me all day, this is a thousand times easier.”

The silence was heavy. Only the sound of Omiya sucking at the straw broke it, a harsh slurp echoing in the café.

“Don’t you think that’s going too far? I trusted you to look after Chihiro. And yet you…”

Omiya pushed damp bangs back from his forehead with a careless hand.

“Then why don’t you take him yourself, Takano-san. I’ll tie him up in a bow and return him to you.”

A sharp crack rang out. Pain bloomed on his right cheek.

“Ah, sorry,” Takano muttered. After striking Omiya across the face, he lowered his eyes, flustered.

“It’s fine. I know I’m saying awful things. But I don’t know how else to square it with myself. Chihiro wants me to go back to being his lover. If that’s the case, the only choice is to pretend to love him. I just wish he’d get tired of me already. The sooner, the better. I want out of this, one second sooner if possible.”

“Omiya…” Takano’s voice held nothing but confusion.

Omiya exhaled deeply, head bowed.

“I want to be free. I don’t want to say ‘I love you’ anymore, don’t want to kiss him. Sex is hell. I can’t stand looking at his face, so I blindfold him. Hearing his voice kills my mood, so I gag him. Towels, toys, whatever. Chihiro’s always been into that stuff, so if anything, he seems to like it more that way.”

He raked both hands roughly through his hair, tugging at the strands.

“I love Kitazawa,” Omiya said. “You remember, don’t you, Takano-san? That college kid who sat beside me, eating sandwiches. Always hungry, a little sharp-tongued, but open, honest… so damn cute. I knew him long before I ever met Chihiro. Five years ago, when he was still in junior high, I met him, fell for him, hard, and confessed. He turned me down flat, of course.

“But for a while I didn’t even realize I’d been rejected. It was summer vacation, he’d gone back to the countryside, and I thought that’s why he wasn’t contacting me. I told myself: once summer’s over, he’ll come back, and then we’ll meet again. I was actually looking forward to the end of summer. But when it ended, there was still nothing. I couldn’t stand it, I even waited for him outside his school, and still never saw him. When I finally realized I’d been dumped, it hit me hard. Hard enough to swear off one-sided love for a while.

“I’d already quit my job back then, so all I did was drift around, angry, aching, miserable… and the worst part was wanting to see him again, even though I knew it was useless. I hated myself for that. Five years passed, the feelings faded, or so I thought. And then he appeared again, right in front of me. At first I thought it was some cruel joke, like God showing me something I could never have. But eventually I began to believe it wasn’t irony at all, it was fate. Fate that I should fall in love with him all over again.”

Omiya slowly lifted his face. When his eyes met Takano’s, he gave a faint smile.

“When I’m with him, I can’t play games. I don’t have the composure. It’s just raw impulses, wanting to see him, kiss him, hold him. Straightforward feelings that blind me, make my head spin. I’ve never felt anything that strong, anything that could rip me apart, with anyone else. Only him. If it’s with him… then I don’t care what happens to me.”

Tears welled in his eyes, the same tears that hadn’t come, even when he told Kitazawa goodbye.

“Does love really have to be this binding? I told Chihiro I loved someone else, that I wanted to end things. But he refused. My heart belongs to someone else, so what’s the point? What joy can he possibly get from being with me like this?”

It felt to Omiya as though what Chihiro needed wasn’t him at all, only the hollow fact of his presence. A willful ignoring of who Omiya truly was.

“Maybe you don’t know this, Takano-san, but after that incident with the pills, Chihiro tried again. Another suicide attempt. He was furious I hadn’t answered his calls, so he jumped from the roof of a building. He lived only because there happened to be a concrete ledge below. Can you imagine? Throwing himself off a roof just to chain me to him. For a man he knows doesn’t even love him. All for show. Don’t you think that’s incredible?”

Omiya let out a bitter breath.

“When he jumped, I felt sad, yes, but also relieved. I thought, finally, I’ll be free. Finally I can meet the one I love openly. But when I learned he’d survived… I was crushed. I honestly wondered why he hadn’t chosen a spot without a ledge. That night, for the first time, I thought about killing him myself. Just to end it. Just to be free of him. He was asleep, his neck was right there, waiting. I only had to reach out. I waited, and waited… and then it struck me. If I killed Chihiro, I’d carry that shadow with me for the rest of my life. The suffering would be worse, tenfold, than the relief.

“That’s the only reason I stopped. Not because his life mattered to me. Honestly… whether Chihiro lives or dies, I don’t care. I stopped because of me. Because I pitied myself too much to go through with it.”

It wasn’t just the dim lighting of the night, Takano’s face truly looked pale.

“Do you think I’m abnormal for wanting to kill someone? Even if you don’t go that far, the thought itself must be repulsive. Honestly, it scares me too.”

Omiya pulled a cigarette from his breast pocket and lit it. It was one Kitazawa had left behind in the car. After the breakup, he had simply vanished. No matter where Omiya searched, he was nowhere to be found.

“I hate him, Takano-san. I hate Chihiro for dragging such emotions out of me. I hate him more than I can bear.”

Right now, that hatred was the strongest feeling Omiya held toward Chihiro.

“The reason I asked you to look after him today was because I’d just been with him. It ended up being our last date, because we broke up. With that boy beside me, I was terrified the impulse to actually kill Chihiro would come. As long as I kept thinking I wanted to see him, hold him, love him… the more I felt, the more unbearable my hatred for Chihiro became. That’s why I left him. I thought if I didn’t see his face, didn’t hear his voice, if he wasn’t mine anymore, if I lost what I held dear, then maybe, before resentment could take root, he’d just fade quietly from my heart.

“I’m a coward. In the end, it’s just self-defense. Putting up a safeguard so I wouldn’t do something unforgivable. But maybe that’s not all. Maybe it’s guilt too. Toward Chihiro, toward myself, for being the kind of person who can think, ‘He doesn’t matter anymore. He can die for all I care.’ …Ah, but I didn’t want to leave that boy. I hated it. I absolutely hated it. I wanted to chain him to me, even if it meant lying a million times. I had decided I would never let go of his hand. But I didn’t know what else to do…”

A tear slipped from his eye and splashed onto the counter.

“If it means going through this torment over and over, I’d rather never have met him again. It wouldn’t have mattered if he never told me he loved me. I wish I had never fallen in love. Then I could have lived my whole life without ever knowing these feelings.”

Sniffling, Omiya pressed his face against his own shoulder.

“If even a shred of love for Chihiro had remained in me, I think I could have been saved. If I could have thought of him as cute, or dear, or someone I wanted to protect, just a little, even a fraction. But it’s strange… it’s like those feelings from when I loved him have been wiped away completely. It’s not an exaggeration. I really can’t remember them at all…”

The sharp clack of shoes echoed. From the office door marked with a nameplate, Chihiro emerged. Perhaps resting had eased his exhaustion, his face was bright again, tinged with healthy color. Spotting Omiya, he quickened his pace.

“If you came to pick me up, you could’ve woken me.”

Omiya smiled.

“You were asleep. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Chihiro tilted his head slightly.

“Yusuke, your eyes look red…”

Omiya rubbed at the corner of his eye with a fingertip.

“Takano-san told me something funny. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.”

“Oh, really?”

And so, the lie came easily. Rising from the stool, Omiya slipped an arm around Chihiro’s slender shoulders.

“Let’s go home. It’s gotten pretty late.”

He stroked Chihiro’s hair like a lover would. Chihiro looked up at him, feigning annoyance yet secretly pleased. That face, so smug, so satisfied, Omiya wanted nothing more than to crush it beneath his hand.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The day after their final date, while Omiya was shut away in the office, Kitazawa left a single note with Hagiwara. It read only: I quit.

That Kitazawa would leave his part-time job was hardly surprising. The result had been foreseeable. Omiya quickly put up new listings, and a replacement was found in no time. At first, Hagiwara often muttered, “I wonder why he suddenly quit,” but after a month had passed, it was as if she had forgotten the boy’s very existence, she said nothing more about it.

Omiya never spoke of him to anyone, not willingly. But even a month, two months after he was gone, if a customer came into the shop whose build or silhouette resembled his, a sharp pain twisted in Omiya’s chest. Time passed, yet the ache never dulled, it returned again and again to torment him. He had thought long and hard, until his mind was exhausted, and he had been the one to sever the bond. Yet still he regretted it, tens of thousands of times over. Because he had known Kitazawa loved him, he had chosen cruel words at the end, making himself into the villain so that not even the faintest regret would remain in him.

With this reasoning, he wished Kitazawa would forget him quickly and find someone new. But his emotions cried out that he must not be forgotten. The thought of him dating someone else, just that alone, stirred a vicious jealousy toward some faceless stranger. If by some chance Omiya were to learn that Kitazawa had slept with another, he thought he might very well stab that man to death.

Those days of being bound by Chihiro… back then, he had thought nothing could be worse. True, Chihiro no longer clung to him blindly, and Omiya had gained freedom. But his heart remained ensnared, bound fast, unable to move. They had broken up, yet still he burned with the desperate cry: I want to see him, I want to see him. Knowing that Kitazawa lived only a short walk away and yet being unable to go, it was enough to drive him mad.

Once, he could no longer endure it and went to Kitazawa’s apartment. The excuse was a handful of belongings left in the bookstore’s locker, odds and ends from his part-time job. At first, Omiya was happy just at the thought of seeing him again. But the closer he drew to the apartment, the slower his steps became, until he stopped just short of the grounds. What he carried, an old magazine, a cheap lighter, a pack of cigarettes, were things so trivial that no one would have minded if he’d simply thrown them away.

In the end, Omiya turned back with the items still in hand. He had grown afraid of meeting him. To Kitazawa, Omiya was a man who had taken advantage of him while already having a lover, who had toyed with him and cast him aside. If he were cursed at, shoved away, it would hardly have been strange.

And so, while his heart remained with Kitazawa, the charade with Chihiro dragged on. Chihiro still hadn’t tired of him. If only he would stray, Omiya thought, but there was no sign of it. On the contrary, Chihiro pressed him for more, deeper and deeper bonds. Omiya’s love was nothing but a thin plating of lies, ready to flake off and expose the emptiness beneath. To be begged for something he didn’t have, even to pretend at loving, was wearing him down. Layer upon layer of stress piled on, and his sleep grew shallower by the day. At first he blamed the muggy season, but that excuse soon crumbled. He could no longer fall asleep easily, and from time to time, he resorted to sleeping pills.

Summer passed. By late September, with the lingering heat still in the air, Omiya was stocking books, glancing up at the clock on the wall, thinking it was nearly time to switch shifts with another employee. Suddenly, a shrill cheer rose from the front registers. Startled, he hurried over, and when he saw the cause, his legs nearly gave out.

It was Kitazawa.

The boy he had not seen once in the two months since their breakup was standing at the register, talking with Hagiwara. His skin was deeply tanned from the summer, his hair cropped shorter than before.

“Manager, Kitazawa-kun’s here,” Hagiwara called.

Summoned over by Hagiwara’s wave, Omiya moved toward them with the stiff, mechanical gestures of a robot. At that point, ignoring them would only have been unnatural. Kitazawa cast him a glance, but from those eyes, Omiya could read nothing, neither anger nor delight.

“Kitazawa-kun’s grandmother in Miyazaki was unwell, so he went back for a while,” Hagiwara explained to Omiya.

“Well, when I say unwell, it was just her back giving her trouble,” Kitazawa said, leaning an elbow on the counter and laughing.

“He even brought back souvenirs, look,” Hagiwara added brightly.

Beside the counter sat a large box labeled Hyūga Summer Jelly.

“I figured I caused trouble by quitting so suddenly, so I thought I should bring something back,” Kitazawa said.

“You didn’t need to worry about that,” Hagiwara replied with a smile.

Even though there were three of them, Kitazawa’s eyes skipped right over Omiya as if he weren’t there, dismissing him completely.

“Kitazawa, I’ll go on ahead,” a girl’s voice called from behind. She looked about his age, short-haired, cute, in a striped T-shirt.

“Got it. I’ll be right there,” Kitazawa answered.

The girl went out first. When Hagiwara leaned closer and whispered, “Is that your girlfriend?” Kitazawa looked momentarily startled, then broke into a grin.

“Something like that. I can’t stay long since we’re in the middle of a date, so please give my regards to everyone else.”

When his figure had disappeared, Hagiwara dropped her gaze and let out a small, wistful sigh.

“He’s still as charming as ever. Just the other day he was saying he didn’t have anyone he liked, and now it seems he’s gotten a girlfriend over summer break. …Manager?”

Even when she called his name, Omiya couldn’t answer. He stood rooted to the spot, stunned.

“You look pale, are you all right?”

Only when she grabbed his arm and shook him did he come back to himself. Though no sweat beaded his brow, he pressed his palm hard against his forehead.

“I’ll be in the office. If anything comes up, call me on the extension,” he said.

Someone in the hallway, on their way to lunch break, said something to him, but all he managed was a faint “Yes.” He didn’t even hear what they’d asked. Sitting down in the office chair, he stared blankly at a single point, doing nothing.

Kitazawa, after two whole months, and the girl who was said to be his girlfriend. Omiya held his head in his hands, his temples throbbing. The boy was still young, with no obligation to Omiya at all. Of course he could find a girlfriend after they’d broken up; there was nothing wrong with it. But still, only two months. Just two months. And to bring her here, as though to show her off…

No, that was exactly it. He had come to show her off. To say: I’ve found someone I love. What we had is already in the past. Omiya had been the one to steer things this way, yet the reality of it struck him down. Kitazawa was younger, but far more flexible, far more decisive than he was. Omiya alone dragged the memory of him like a chain, dragging it always, lifting his eyes to the clock at every break, remembering how they had held each other on the sofa, chewing over that emptiness. Memories of him still lingered in every corner of this room.

To wish that Kitazawa might never love anyone else for the rest of his life, that was selfishness. Yet even if he could never speak to him again, never touch him again, Omiya still wanted to remain the only one inside his sacred place.

He said he didn’t even want to sleep with girls, Omiya thought bitterly.

This is better, he told himself, forcing the words. Kitazawa would love normally, and forget him. And yet suddenly, Omiya found himself thinking: I was the one who ended it. So why is it that I, not the one who was left, am the one feeling such piercing sorrow, such emptiness?

◇:-:◆:-:◇

That night, after closing, Omiya stayed behind alone to finish up work. Ever since the shock of seeing Kitazawa bring a girlfriend earlier that day, he had drifted aimlessly in the office, unable to focus on anything. Only when the end of the workday was already near did his thoughts finally break free of Kitazawa, enough to turn toward his desk.

Everyone else, employees and part-timers alike, had gone home. Facing the computer, he tried to print invoices, but the printer, plagued with problems lately, shrieked with a harsh clatter, then gave a piercing beep, beep before stopping dead. It had been acting up so often that he was seriously considering replacing it.

As he rebooted the machine and checked for jammed paper, a knock came at the office door. Assuming it was an employee who had forgotten something, he answered, “Yes.”

The door opened, and the figure that stepped inside made the papers slip from his hands and scatter across the floor. His voice caught in his throat.

“It’s been a while,” Kitazawa said.

He wore the same clothes as earlier, entering without hesitation.

“Ah… yeah. You look well,” Omiya managed, crouching to gather the scattered pages. His fingers trembled.

“I quit all of a sudden, so I never cleaned out my locker. Didn’t leave trash behind, did I?”

Omiya stacked the papers on the desk, then pulled open a drawer. Inside was a bag of Kitazawa’s belongings.

“These are yours. I tried to return them once, but you weren’t home.”

When he handed it over, Kitazawa rummaged through, plucked out only a lighter and cigarettes, and tossed the rest into the nearby wastebasket. Dropping onto the office sofa, he muttered, “Damn, they’re damp…” and lit a cigarette, inhaling sharply, irritation plain in his movements.

Omiya didn’t know what to say to him.

“The girl I saw with you earlier… she was cute,” he said at last.

A violent crash!, the coffee table went flying with a kick, slanting at an angle.

“She’s just someone from my club. We’re not dating.”

“But earlier you said it was a date—”

“That was a lie, obviously.”

He crushed the cigarette into the tilted ashtray, scattering ash across the floor.

“Why… why would you lie about that?”

“I thought maybe it’d shake you up if I said it,” he shot back.

Then, with a burst of energy, he sprang up and closed the distance between them.

“You still haven’t gotten over me, have you?” His hard gaze bore down on Omiya.

“When I said I was with her, the look on your face—”

Grabbing fistfuls of Omiya’s shirt, he yanked him close.

“Did it drive you crazy with jealousy? Did you picture me in bed with her? Did you regret dumping me?”

A sudden grin split his face.

“Even if you make that pitiful face, I’m not forgiving you.”

Shoved backward, Omiya’s spine struck the edge of the desk before he crumpled to the floor. Kitazawa straddled his lap, and without mercy, his fist crashed into Omiya’s face. The threat of a second blow made him squeeze his eyes shut, his shirt wrenched roughly at the chest, and then, not a fist but something else pressed against his lips.

Disbelieving, he opened his eyes. Kitazawa was kissing him.

“I heard everything from Takano,” he said against his mouth, still seething.

“You lied to me. Said it was your sister. Said it was an injured friend. All of it was about your ex, wasn’t it? You strung me along like a dog on a leash, made me wait, and wait…”

His voice shook. He kept his head bowed, still perched on Omiya’s lap.

“Takano called me at the end of July. He said if I wanted you, I’d have to wait two years, that until then, he’d be the one at your side.”

Omiya hadn’t known. That Takano had spoken with Kitazawa about such things…

“Your lies, your ex, both pissed me off so bad. Even after I went back to Miyazaki, that’s all I could think about. Over and over, like an idiot who had nothing else in his head…”

Kitazawa lifted his face from where it had been lowered, and then he wrenched up the front of Omiya’s shirt so tightly that it felt like it would cut off his breath.

“One year. Settle it with him in a year. I won’t wait longer than that. If you drag it out, I’ll sleep with someone else. I won’t be yours forever.”

After shouting, Kitazawa clung to Omiya fiercely.

“Just one year. I’ll give you that much. I’ll wait, I’ll even forgive you…”

Omiya wanted to hold him, but his fingers trembled. He said he’d wait. He said he’d forgive me. The words felt unreal, yet they filled him with such relief that tears spilled out. Kitazawa tilted his head up to look at his face, and embarrassed by being caught crying, Omiya turned away, only to have his chin seized and forced to face him again.

That shameless, broken, tear-streaked face was stared at intently.

“If you love me enough to cry like that, then why the hell did you dump me?”

His fingertips brushed over Omiya’s damp eyes again and again.

“Stop crying. Kiss me.”

Obediently, Omiya kissed him. He hadn’t been able to break completely with his ex, and yet he clung to Kitazawa, dragging him into a tangled, messy situation. Still, the kiss he demanded… it felt strangely earnest. Almost austere.

 

It was the first time they had sex in the car. Even though they’d confirmed their feelings, Omiya’s head still hadn’t settled. When he dropped Kitazawa off at his apartment, he fully intended to go straight home. But the kiss at the farewell ruined that resolve. He didn’t want to let go. Neither did Kitazawa. Their deep kiss slid seamlessly into sex, right there in the narrow alley behind the building. Even at midnight, there was no guarantee no one would pass by. But neither of them stopped, neither wanted to.

“Honestly, I was ready to never see you again.”

On top of him, poised to let Omiya inside, Kitazawa suddenly said it.

“I thought, That’s enough. I can’t trust him. I love him, but he’s hopeless. I should just break up with him. That’s what I’d decided. And then I went diving. The water was clear, the coral was beautiful. My head was a mess with you, but the scenery around me was dazzling. And as I stared at it all, I thought, I wish I could see this with him. Even though I was ready to leave you, the thought still came, and I wondered why. And then I kind of understood. Ah, so that’s what it is.”

His tongue licked at Omiya’s lips.

“I don’t want to regret anything. That’s why… I came back to take you.”

The boldness in his voice only made Omiya feel more ashamed of himself.

“I’m number one. Don’t you ever forget it.”

With a crooked smile, Kitazawa tightened around him. Just then, the sound of a car passing nearby startled him into clinging to Omiya.

“Do you think they saw?”

“Who knows… but it’s dark, so probably not—”

Kitazawa scowled.

“Easy for you to say. You only showed a little, but I’ve got my whole ass out here. That’s humiliating!”

He snapped at Omiya from above, then exhaled sharply and muttered, “Whatever.” Pulling Omiya into a fierce hug, he buried his face against his chest and grumbled, “They can’t see my face anyway. You’re the one who should be embarrassed.”

END ARCH 2

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