The Eyes of a Child: Chapter 07

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Misaki left the room first. After stepping out, the secretary guided him down to the front lobby. “Just a moment,” he said, excusing himself as he slipped into the restroom.

The moment the door closed behind him, everything he’d been holding in came surging up, and tears spilled from his eyes.

This was for the best. He should be celebrating, arms thrown high in relief. One less mouth to feed. No more homework to teach. He could finally sprawl across the futon without anyone hogging space.

But none of that mattered. Those were such trivial things. Things he hadn’t even thought about. Things he’d taken for granted.

They’d had sex so many times. Hitoshi had gone on and on, saying he loved him, over and over, like a fool. Said Misaki was the one he loved most. He’d clung to Misaki’s legs like a child, so annoyingly it had driven him crazy.

There was no need for his memory to come back. It would’ve been better if it hadn’t. Even if his mind had stayed at six years old, if he just kept saying Misaki was his favorite, Misaki would’ve protected him, no matter what.

Just like Hitoshi had shouted over and over that he loved Misaki, Misaki had loved Hitoshi too.

Why did they even have sex? Sure, Hitoshi had come on to him at first, but that was only at the beginning. Misaki had gone along with it because he’d come to love him too. But once the memories returned, it was all over. That boy, the one who’d looked at him and said he loved him, was completely gone.

He cried for a while. And once the tears had run their course, he washed his face at the restroom sink, making sure no trace of it remained.

He apologized to the secretary waiting outside for taking so long, and steeled himself before returning to the lobby. But when he got there, Jotaro was nowhere to be seen.

I told him to stay right here…

As Misaki glanced around, Jotaro stepped out of the elevator, holding a paper bag.

“What the hell are you doing? I told you to stay put. And what’s that you’re carrying?”

Jotaro held out the bag to Misaki. It was stuffed full of sweets.

“Hitoshi gave it to me.”

Just hearing the name made his chest tighten.

“Hitoshi?”

“I was playing by the elevator and saw Hitoshi, he was playing 'grown-up.' I told him we should go home together, but he said he can’t come back anymore. So I told him if he and dad had a fight, I’d apologize for you. Then he gave me this.”

“…I see.”

Misaki took Jotaro’s hand and walked out of the building. The air outside was cold, laced with a lonely chill.

“Hitoshi really looked like a grown-up, huh…”

Jotaro said softly, and Misaki laughed.

“Not ‘looked like’, he is a grown-up. His illness got better, so he became an adult. That’s why he can’t live with us anymore.”

“Why not? Just because he’s an adult, why can’t he live with us?”

“Because… well, because he’s an adult.”

“But adults can live with us too! What’s wrong with that?”

Jotaro flailed his arms wide, full-body frustration radiating from him.

“Hitoshi has his own circumstances. Don’t be selfish.”

“I’m not being selfish! I want to live with Hitoshi! If he was around, I wouldn’t be lonely when you’re gone!”

“You can’t just drag Hitoshi around for your own sake!”

The words came out sharp and loud, and Jotaro bit his lip, his face turning red, on the verge of tears.

“Then what about you, dad? You okay with him being gone?”

“I’m fine. I’m an adult.”

“Liar!”

Jotaro’s voice rang out loud enough for people to turn their heads.

“You kiss Hitoshi! You think I didn’t notice just ’cause you hide it, but I know! You kiss him ’cause you love him, right? You love Hitoshi too, dad!”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

He shouted, arm flying up before he even realized it. Jotaro flinched, trembling. Misaki came to his senses just before his hand came down.

“No matter how much you love someone,” he said, voice breaking, “some things… you just can’t change.”

Misaki grabbed Jotaro’s hand roughly and marched forward. The tears came from sheer helplessness. He hadn’t realized how deeply he had fallen, how much he’d been made to love him. And yet, if Hitoshi hadn’t been “the child Hitoshi,” he wasn’t sure he could have accepted that man to such an extent. I must be the abnormal one, he thought. The brother, who had returned to adulthood and tried to forget what had happened between them, he was the one acting normally.

Abnormal… The word echoed in his head, and Misaki let out a small laugh. I must be messed up in the head. He’d fallen for that man when he was like a child, had made him his boyfriend. And even now…

Hurriedly, Misaki wiped the tears at the corners of his eyes. I’m lonely. So terribly lonely. The thought of Hitoshi leaving made his chest ache. Not hearing “I love you,” not being held by him, it hurt.

“Dad, why are you crying?”

“Got something in my eye. Leave me alone.”

It was a lie. But before long, Jotaro, seemingly moved by Misaki’s tears, began sniffling himself.

“Why the hell are you crying now?”

“My tears won’t stop coming out…”

Father and son walked on, both crying as they went. And as they walked, Jotaro mumbled softly,

“Dad… it’s lonely without Hitoshi around, huh…”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The phone call came at the end of February, just over three months after they'd returned to a life of just the two of them. Misaki was finally starting to get used to life without that third presence in the house. So much so that he found himself tilting his head, trying to recall what life with just Jotaro had even been like before Hitoshi arrived. That’s how large a presence he’d been.

For example, when making dinner, he’d sometimes catch himself wanting an extra hand and calling out “Hitoshi” before he could stop himself, turning around as if he were still there. Even though he wasn’t. At night, when he pleasured himself with his right hand, that lousy fingerwork of Hitoshi’s would come flooding back, and while it was laughable, it left him feeling unbearably empty. Nights when sleeping alone felt lonely came and went again and again, and Misaki had begun to think, maybe next time Oyassan’s wife tries to set me up with someone, I’ll at least agree to meet them.

When he first heard the voice over the phone, he didn’t recognize it. But once the caller said his name, Misaki’s fingertips started trembling, even though he wasn’t particularly nervous. It was his brother’s voice that invited him: “Would you like to visit our parents’ graves this weekend?”

We did talk about that once, didn’t we… Misaki vaguely recalled. To his brother, the time they lived together was something to be forgotten. Even so, he was still reaching out like this, was it out of duty? Politeness? Or maybe just a rigid sense of obligation to keep his word? Misaki considered each reason, but eventually realized it didn’t matter which was true. The answer wouldn’t change anything. With a dry, inward smile, he agreed and set a time to meet.

That weekend, the air was chilly from the morning, and the sky beyond the windowpane was shrouded in gray. Misaki had naturally assumed they’d take the train to their grandmother’s house, so when Hitoshi pulled up in front of the apartment in a BMW, he was startled.

Wearing a sharply tailored tweed coat, Hitoshi looked every bit a man of class. Misaki stood in the doorway in faded jeans, a long-sleeve T-shirt, and a thick flannel shirt over it. Compared to Hitoshi, his own outfit felt embarrassingly cheap. Don’t think about it, he told himself. But the very thought proved he was thinking about it. The realization sank his mood all at once.

Since agreeing to this visit, Misaki had found himself dreading it with a quiet, mounting intensity. But no excuse came to mind, and before he knew it, the day had arrived.

In the passenger seat, he kept suppressing sighs and stealing glances at Hitoshi behind the wheel. But even though he could see his brother’s profile clearly, he said nothing. There wasn’t anything in particular he wanted to say, no topic pressing at his lips.

But not even ten minutes into the drive, Jotaro began to feel carsick and said he didn’t feel well. They made a quick stop at a pharmacy for anti-nausea medicine, and soon after taking it, Jotaro dozed off, nodding off like a stone dropping into water.

The drive to their grandmother’s house took two hours. During the entire trip, the only times Misaki spoke were to ask for the pharmacy stop and to offer to switch drivers. Both times, Hitoshi simply replied, “That’s fine.” The car was warm enough to make him sweat lightly, but the silence inside was stifling, heavy with awkwardness.

Not fifteen minutes into the ride, Misaki found himself wanting to throw a tantrum like a child and demand they turn the car around and go home.

The moment they arrived at their grandmother’s house, Misaki bolted out of the suffocating vehicle like it was a coffin. Fine, powdery snow had begun to fall outside. Carrying a half-asleep Jotaro in his arms, he pounded on the front door.

“Yes, yes, who is it—?” came the familiar voice, and then his grandmother appeared, wearing a wool-knit vest and slightly hunched with age. When she saw her grandsons and great-grandson standing there, her eyes widened in shock.

“It’s been a while,” came a deep voice from behind Misaki. His grandmother pressed both hands to her mouth like she was trying to contain her surprise, muttering to herself, “Ah… ah…” before finally whispering, in a trembling voice, “Welcome home.”

She quickly turned away, but Misaki saw it, the shimmer at the corner of her eyes.

They all sat around the old-style kotatsu in the living room, the same one that had been there since before Misaki left the house. The warmth of the tea in their cups filled the quiet. When Misaki mentioned that they were planning to visit the family graves, his grandmother waved them on gently, saying, “Then you’d better go early.”

“They say the snow’s going to get worse soon. You’d better go before it does.”

Even at the house, just like in the car, Jotaro kept rubbing his sleepy eyes. Misaki felt a little guilty dragging him out into the cold, so he left the boy in their grandmother’s care and headed out to the cemetery with Hitoshi, just the two of them. As their grandmother had said, the snow had definitely thickened since their arrival. After just a few steps outside, the wind found the bare skin at the back of Misaki’s neck and the thin fabric clinging to his back, raising goosebumps and making him shiver hard.

“Wait just a moment,” Hitoshi said, tapping Misaki lightly on the shoulder before jogging off toward the car. When he came back, he was holding something.

“If you wear this, it should help a bit with the cold.”

He handed Misaki a black down jacket. For a second, Misaki thought it might be the one Hitoshi had taken from him before, but this one was softer, warmer, the texture much nicer than his own. The cold outside left little room for modesty. Muttering, “Thanks…,” Misaki slipped his arms through the sleeves, then blinked in mild surprise. The fit was perfect, almost as if it had been tailored for him. Hitoshi’s clothes were supposed to be a size larger than his, weren’t they?

“Shall we go?”

Hitoshi turned and began walking slowly ahead. Misaki shoved his hands deep into the pockets of the jacket, so warm, and wondered if Hitoshi had meant to give this to him all along. But he didn’t ask. He could have, but something about that broad tweed-covered back made the words stick in his throat.

The man walking ahead looked like a windbreak now. Not long ago, Hitoshi had been following behind him with unsteady steps, always getting distracted, dawdling. Now it was the opposite, he walked like someone determined to lead, pulling Misaki along in his wake.

There was no one else on the road. In this quiet countryside, only the wind and the crunch of dead leaves underfoot filled the air. Before long, the gate to the temple came into view. Though this should’ve been Hitoshi’s first time visiting, he moved through it without hesitation, heading straight to their parents’ graves.

He placed flowers and poured water, then pressed his hands together in prayer. Misaki barely closed his eyes for a second before opening them again. But Hitoshi remained still for several minutes, eyes shut, hands folded, as if speaking silently to the stone in front of him. The incense’s flame, quickly snuffed by wind and snow, left only a fleeting trace of its bitter scent in the air.

Even after opening his eyes, Hitoshi lingered, staring at their parents’ graves in a kind of daze. Misaki’s small sneeze snapped him out of it, and he turned, saying gently, “Shall we head back?”

Hitoshi walked ahead again on the return trip. The snow-slicked ground had begun to grow muddy, making each step feel heavier than it should have. Without meaning to, Misaki found himself following in Hitoshi’s footprints. He hadn’t noticed it on the way there, but the old candy shop they’d stopped at in summer was now tightly shuttered, even though it was barely past noon. The little flags under the eaves that once read “Ice” had been taken down, and the wind chimes were gone.

He remembered Hitoshi then, remembered how he’d stuck out his tongue, dyed blue by food coloring from the ice pop, flashing it with that smug little grin, like he wanted to be praised: “Look.”

The memory passed in an instant. But it was as if Hitoshi had a sensor in his back; each time Misaki lagged behind, he would stop, turn, and glance back as if to urge him along.

Every time, Misaki had to pick up his pace again. In the thickening white, Hitoshi kept a steady distance ahead, and Misaki kept moving, determined not to lose sight of that broad back.

By the time they made it to the point where their grandmother’s house came into view, Hitoshi stopped walking. When Misaki caught up, he murmured,

“There’s something I’d like to talk about, just the two of us. Would you come to the car with me?”

“What is there to talk about?”

They’d been alone in the car earlier too. And even then, they hadn’t exchanged a single idle word. What was there now, after all that silence, to suddenly talk about?

That was Misaki’s honest thought.

“…A lot of things,” Hitoshi replied.

The idea of having to talk in that coffin-like car made Misaki instinctively pull back. Perhaps noticing this, Hitoshi grabbed Misaki’s hand and, without asking permission, led him along. Before he knew it, they were standing in front of the car. Hitoshi opened the passenger door with a deliberately exaggerated motion. Misaki had no choice but to get in. Hitoshi walked around to the driver’s side and slipped in as well.

Misaki pressed his lips tightly together, not hiding his displeasure at being forced into the situation. The engine started, and the cold car interior slowly began to warm.

Despite having said he wanted to talk, Hitoshi said nothing, just like before. He only stared absentmindedly at the windshield where snowflakes melted and slid down. You're the one who said you wanted to talk, Misaki thought irritably. He wasn't about to be the one to start.

“Do you remember the day I was taken in by Grandpa?”

Hitoshi’s voice sounded like he was talking to himself, still facing forward. But there was no doubt the question was for Misaki.

“I kind of remember. Not very clearly.”

“You were six. But I remember it like it was yesterday. It was August, during summer vacation. We had just come back from fishing, and Grandpa was sitting there waiting. He wanted to take you first. Probably figured it was easier to raise a smaller kid than a half-grown one like me. But you resisted, you kicked him, screamed, bit him.”

Hitoshi paused for a moment and sighed.

“He got angry and took me instead.”

It was spoken without emotion, just facts.

“On the way to his house, I looked out the car window. You and Grandma were getting smaller and smaller. I cried. He told me to stop, but I couldn’t. So he locked me in a cage-like box until I did.”

Then he finally turned to Misaki.

“After that, whenever I disobeyed, I was punished. Harshly. When I tried to call Grandma, I got beaten like hell. Eventually, I stopped fighting. I truly believed he’d kill me if I didn’t obey. As long as I studied and got good grades, he left me alone. He was obsessed with appearances, but he had no interest in me as a person. I used to wonder a lot, if you hadn’t fought back that day, would you have been the one to go through all of that instead?”

Misaki lowered his eyes. He hadn’t expected this, being told such things in a place like this, in this way. It was too much.

“Were you happy,” Hitoshi asked, “living with Grandma?”

The question felt like a trap. He couldn’t say he was happy. He remembered that moment, the moment he bit their grandfather and Hitoshi was taken instead. But still,

“How old were you when you first had sex?”

The question slammed into him like a fist. So sudden. So cruel.

“Seventeen? Eighteen? Or was it even earlier?”

“What the hell’s wrong with you? Why would I ever tell you that?”

“I was fifteen,” Hitoshi said plainly. “It was my first time. Grandpa called me into his room. There was a woman waiting. He said, ‘Use her for that sort of thing until you find someone to marry.’”

A bitter laugh escaped him.

“I always knew he was twisted, but that moment confirmed it for me, he was completely broken inside. You got married at eighteen, right? To someone you loved. Then you had a kid the next year. You lived with the person you loved. And your child. Were you happy?”

Hitoshi’s way of speaking, of cornering him little by little, made Misaki reach his limit.

He yelled. He couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“What the hell are you trying to say?” Misaki snapped. “Yeah, I know it was shitty of me to send you to Grandpa’s place in my place. But I didn’t know it was that bad over there! If I could go back, I’d gladly take your place. If this is how you’re gonna keep throwing guilt in my face…”

Hitoshi tilted his head slightly.

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty. I’m just stating the facts. And I actually think I’m glad I went to Grandpa’s. I really think it’s a good thing you didn’t end up like I did. That’s why… you have to be happy. I need you to be.”

Is that really how he feels? Misaki couldn’t read the emotionless face of his brother, who rarely showed anything at all.

“When you came to me two years ago, almost three now, asking to borrow money for your wife’s surgery, Grandpa was still alive. He was still keeping tabs on everything I did, even though I was almost thirty. Even when I met with you, someone close to Grandpa was watching. I was too scared of what kind of punishment would come afterward to help you openly. I’m sorry.”

He bowed his head. Being blamed, being apologized to, Misaki didn’t know how to react to this man anymore. He felt disoriented.

“Grandma told me it was because of Grandpa.”

“Did she?”

And with that, the conversation abruptly ended. The low hum of the car heater filled the silence, and snow like a movie with no end, continued to stretch across the windshield. Neither of them said anything, yet neither made a move to leave the car.

There was only silence, and snow.

Misaki shifted a little in his seat. The man he loved sat beside him. But he was no longer the person Misaki had fallen for. And yet, he couldn’t see him as “his brother” anymore, nor could he write him off as a “stranger.” Maybe it didn’t even matter anymore. But unless he drew some kind of line, through words or anything, he had the feeling that if he ever met Hitoshi again, he’d be carrying this unresolved frustration with him each and every time.

“…You remember, don’t you?” he said quietly.

A question with no subject. Hitoshi paused, as if to think, then murmured softly,

“Do you want to hear it?”

“You lied even though you remembered… because you want to forget, right?”

A faint sigh escaped Hitoshi’s lips.

“…Yes. I want to forget the person I was when my memory was gone.”

He had admitted he remembered, and still said he wanted to forget.

The strength drained from Misaki’s shoulders. A familiar resignation spread through his chest. I knew it, he thought. Even knowing, the pain still clawed at him somewhere inside.

The man he had loved was gone. Truly gone, leaving behind only the outer shell.

"Whenever I think back on those days, I can’t help but feel angry."

The sweet memories remained only as memories. No matter how much they had loved or hated each other, they were brothers, and that distance would never change. Whether that was now a good thing or a bad thing, Misaki no longer knew.

"What do you think of me?"

Misaki was caught off guard by the sharp voice directed at him, full of frustration. He had no idea why he was suddenly being scolded.

"I’m no longer the child who depended on you. I can’t go back to that time, and I don’t want to."

"I..."

"You loved the innocent child I used to be. Ever since earlier, you’ve been talking as if reminiscing, looking back at the past. Have you ever stopped to think how it feels for me to watch you do that?"

His shoulders trembled slightly, whether from cold or anger, and he let out a harsh sigh.

"I’ll say this plainly. I love you. Regardless of gender or blood, I want to love you. But the one you love isn’t me, it’s the child I was. If you truly want to be loved by me, then get rid of that 'child version' of me from your mind."

Even if he was told that… the one Misaki had fallen for was that childlike gaze, that honest affection, those pure expressions. If he were to strip all that away, what would be left?

"Even if you say that, what the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Figure it out for yourself."

He was pushed away. Told “I love you,” only to be rejected.

Misaki’s mind spiraled into chaos, unable to make sense of anything.

"The snow’s getting heavier. Let’s go back. Grandma might be worried."

Hitoshi turned off the car engine. Visibility was poor outside; Misaki hunched his shoulders and squinted into the white blur.

As always, Hitoshi walked ahead. Only once did he turn back and say:

"At this rate, it’s probably impossible to drive back tonight. The cold front is supposed to ease up by tomorrow, so let’s stay at my Grandma’s house for the night. I’m planning to sleep in Grandpa’s room. If you decide you want me… you can come."

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Even at dinner, even after taking a bath, Misaki couldn’t stand how aware he was of Hitoshi. And the more Hitoshi acted like nothing had happened, expressionless as ever, the more it grated on him. Hitoshi had told him to forget “the child version of me.” But how could he possibly forget? The one Misaki had fallen in love with was the child Hitoshi. And yet, the truth was, child Hitoshi no longer existed anywhere.

Hitoshi had work from tomorrow afternoon and said he wanted to leave early in the morning, so everyone went to bed early, around 10 p.m., to accommodate him. Misaki and Jotaro laid out their futons in the living room, while Hitoshi used the grandfather’s room. In the heavy, cold futon, using Jotaro like a hot water bottle, Misaki kept churning over a problem he couldn’t find any solution to. He loved him so much it hurt, but that boy was gone. No… not gone, exactly. But the person here now was someone else. And yet, not entirely someone else either…

Suddenly, Jotaro stirred under the covers, breaking Misaki’s thoughts.

“Dad, come pee with me.”

He clung to him with a spoiled tone.

“You already went before bed.”

“I need to go again. Grandma’s toilet is scary, I can’t see the bottom.”

It was an old house, so the outhouse was built separate from the main house, and on top of that, it used a collection pit, a style unfamiliar to modern kids.

“Geez, all right.”

Misaki threw on Hitoshi’s down jacket and helped Jotaro into a coat. Together, they padded quietly down the freezing hallway. Though the main house and the outhouse were technically separate, the distance was only about two meters. Misaki waited by the back door while Jotaro used the bathroom. He returned at a suspiciously fast speed, so fast Misaki wondered if he’d actually gone, and launched himself into Misaki’s arms.

“It was cooold.”

The wind had died down. Snow fell silently in the dark.

“Dad, can I make a snowman?”

Despite saying he was cold, Jotaro stared longingly at the back garden, now blanketed in white.

“Wait till morning. You’ll catch a cold.”

Jotaro looked disappointed but chuckled.

“When I make the snowman, I’ll give it to Kaori-chan.”

“Who’s this Kaori-chan? Your girlfriend?”

“Nope, she’s my sweetheart.”

Misaki gave the precocious child’s head a playful rub with his fist.

“What the heck? Just a while ago you were saying you wanted to marry Nurse Hiiragi. You cheater.”

“I’m not cheating! I really love Kaori-chan.”

Misaki laughed at Jotaro’s pouty, exaggerated frown, but partway through, the laughter stopped.

He told Jotaro to go back to the room first, saying he’d follow soon. Then Misaki slowly walked down the hallway toward the grandfather’s room. He stopped just in front of the door, hesitant to go in. After a long back and forth with himself, he decided that if Hitoshi was already asleep, he’d leave and return to the living room.

He gently slid open the shoji, careful not to make a sound. The moment their eyes met, Misaki gasped. The man he thought was asleep had already half-sat up in bed and, under the dim orange glow of the nightlight, was staring directly at him.

“It's cold, could you close it?”

Startled, Misaki hurried into the room and slid the shoji shut. As soon as he did, the air turned stifling with the oppressive sense of being alone together.

“What do you want?”

Hitoshi’s expression was unreadable, and his tone was cold. Misaki immediately regretted coming into the room.

“It’s not like I’ve got anything important. But there’s something I just had to say today. I was talking with Jotaro earlier and… well, never mind that part…”

He had something like an answer, but it wouldn’t come together right in his head. Even so, Misaki forced the words out roughly.

“It’s about what we talked about earlier. I liked you back when you were like a kid. You said to forget it, but I don’t think I ever could. But I realized it’s okay not to forget. It was the same with Megumi. I didn’t forget her either. It became a memory, but that’s fine. That’s how things are. I’m going to keep living, and someday I’ll probably fall for someone else. That’s natural. Memories can just keep piling up like that. So…”

He trailed off. Hitoshi prompted him with a flat “So?”

“I always thought you were weird. But of course you are. You’re not the Hitoshi I used to know. I don’t really know this adult version of you. All I can tell is that you’re kind of a stuck-up jerk. But I think I want to take my time getting to know you.”

“So?”

“That’s it. That’s all I wanted to say.”

His heart was pounding so loudly it rang in his ears. He was so tense, he couldn’t even remember what he’d said a minute ago. He wasn’t even sure what he was saying anymore. But somehow, he felt like he’d managed to distill the most important part at the very end.

“You want to know more about me?”

“Yeah.”

He answered honestly.

“Take off your clothes.”

The sudden command to strip made Misaki doubt his ears.

“You’re not a child, and there’s no reason to be shy, we did it plenty of times when I was like a kid. I’ll start by showing you the version of me that’s easiest to understand.”

The arrogant tone pissed him off, and Misaki yanked off his clothes with violent irritation. He even threw his underwear right at Hitoshi’s face. While he was swept up in his anger, it was fine, but the moment he found himself naked in front of Hitoshi, his reason came rushing back, and he was suddenly overwhelmed by embarrassment.

“Get in next to me.”

The futon had been thrown wide open. Hitoshi’s voice was like a drug, and without thinking, Misaki answered, “Okay.”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Even the way Hitoshi kissed was different. It wasn’t anything as innocent as “I love you”; his tongue moved so fiercely that Misaki felt as if he were being devoured. His mouth was violated so thoroughly he nearly lost consciousness, all while his lower body was being fondled. He grew hard immediately, the urge to climax intensifying, but Hitoshi kept gripping the base, prolonging the stimulation endlessly. At first, Misaki endured it, but eventually he couldn’t take it anymore and pleaded, timidly, “I want to come.”

But Hitoshi had no intention of letting him. As the frustration surged through his entire body, Misaki could no longer stand it, shame and self-restraint abandoned, he screamed.

“No, let go! I can’t take it anymore...!”

A hand covered his mouth, and a whisper came at his ear.

“Don’t be so loud. I think we’re safe since our grandmother’s hard of hearing, but Jotaro might wake up. The sliding door doesn’t lock, you don’t want to be seen, do you?”

Misaki buried his face in the futon, desperately suppressing his voice. Dragged right to the edge, he was finally allowed to release into Hitoshi’s mouth. He had never done anything like fellatio with the child version of Hitoshi before, and now, just a single lick was enough to make him spill everything he’d been holding in.

Everything was so different. The sex was nothing like it had been with the boy Hitoshi,  far more intense, overwhelming in every way. Even as he was penetrated head-on, Misaki could do nothing but writhe under the unbearable pleasure. The fingers touching every corner of his body were delicate and unbelievably lewd. His lower half, thoroughly pounded and stirred, went numb, knees and toes trembling. And still, the caresses didn’t stop, and all Misaki could do was moan in response.

“There’s something I absolutely want to make you say.”

Hitoshi whispered directly into his ear as his tongue slipped inside it, and Misaki’s back jerked with a shiver.

“What did you used to call me... a long time ago?”

“Hh… Hitoshi…”

A firm grip to his lower half made him gasp involuntarily.

“Even further back.”

Despite the strong grasp, the touch on just the tip was gentle, tracing almost in circles. Misaki’s jaw trembled as he tried to think through the haze in his head.

“O-Onii-chan…”

“Say it again.”

“Onii-chan…”

Hitoshi’s thrusts grew stronger, and Misaki, wrapping both legs around his waist, murmured, “Onii-chan… onii-chan…” like a broken chant. Fingers stroked his hair tenderly, then glided up the nape of his neck as if soothing a kitten.

“You don’t have to do anything else. Just lean on me.”

Just before falling over the edge of pleasure, Misaki heard those words whispered clearly into his ear.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The next morning, Misaki was gently shaken awake. The very first thing he heard upon opening his eyes was: “Get dressed.”

Despite the intensity of the night they had shared, Hitoshi's demeanor was utterly composed and detached.

The way Hitoshi treated Misaki didn’t change in the slightest, before or after sex. His face remained expressionless, his words few and far between. Even after seeking him out so desperately and taking him so forcefully, Hitoshi now acted as though none of it had happened, as if it had all been a dream. Misaki couldn’t help but feel a faint, nagging unease, had Hitoshi only been toying with him?

Hitoshi remained silent even in the car on the drive back. The only time he spoke was when he dropped Misaki off in front of his apartment: to say the down jacket Misaki had borrowed yesterday was his to keep.
That was all. The car pulled away with the same indifference as its driver, and there was no mention of when they’d meet again.

Carrying a motion-sick and limp Jotaro on his back, Misaki felt the dull ache in his hips in a very real, very annoying way. He clutched the plastic bag holding the souvenir snowman in one hand and instinctively reached into the pocket of the down jacket for his keys.

That’s when he found it: an unfamiliar key, and a scrap of memo paper he didn’t recognize. Neither had been there yesterday.

Written on the memo was a brief message: “Move in,” along with a simple hand-drawn map.

“…Seriously?”

Misaki sighed. Hitoshi hadn’t said a single word about living together. Adult Hitoshi was just too complicated.

But then again, maybe it made sense not to understand, this was only the beginning.

“Ugh… moving’s such a pain,” he muttered to himself.

But Hitoshi knew full well Misaki didn’t have enough belongings to truly call it a hassle.

Staring at the paper, Misaki found himself vaguely wondering if he’d get his deposit and key money back, even though he hadn’t lived here for a full year yet.

END ARCH 1

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