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Akiyama visited any and every place he could think of where books were sold. He would casually dip in, glancing around, and meander over to the books. No one spared him a thought, and yet he flipped through books seemingly at random. At times, his focus would intensify, and he pored over certain pages, and then eventually he’d duck back out. He hurried right back, and he scrawled things down on a pad of paper with his somewhat messy handwriting. He studied. He went to an internet cafe, too. His notes grew longer, even as he scratched out things he’d written until finally he braved the supermarket.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been inside an honest to goodness supermarket. He worked his lips nervously, and he went on the prowl. He finally left the dizzyingly large store, exhausted, with not one item of food in hand. Instead, he had a magazine.
Eventually, Akiyama worked up the courage to make his purchases. Today was the day. At least, a trial day. He read and re-read his notes. He got to work, and he fretted at every step. He left behind the chaos of his cramped kitchen to taste what he’d made. He chewed and at first smiled, then frowned, and then tried some more. Without warning he shot up, nearly banging his knee on the table, and he fetched his flour-covered, stained notes. He sullenly finished eating while he read.
The next day Akiyama went back to the supermarket and he chatted with some of the attendants for advice. He kept at it weekly, and he finally worked up his courage. He lurked about until he saw the familiar suit and took a breath. This was no problem. Easy.
He lifted a hand to wave.
“Ah, hey, Arai-san,” he said. “Fancy seeing you.”
The man in question looked over in his direction.
“Hm? Oh, Akiyama-san,” said Arai. “It’s good to see you.”
“Ha ha… I feel the same. You’re just the person I was hoping to find.”
“Is that right? What can I do for you?” Arai asked.
“Listen, uh, Arai-san…” began Akiyama. “I was hoping… Uh, that… Are you free tonight?”
Arai peered at Akiyama. Before he could answer, Akiyama quickly spoke again.
“It doesn’t have to be today. I can always work around your schedule.”
“No, I don’t have plans, but what’s the occasion?”
Akiyama fidgeted.
“Um, no, there’s no occasion, just…”
Akiyama glanced to the side in embarrassment.
“It’s unusual for you to be this nervous,” said Arai. “There’s no need to hesitate if you need my help for something.”
“No, I’d like to make dinner for you,” said Akiyama in a rush.
Arai’s thick brows lifted a fraction.
“Dinner?” he said.
“I planned to invite you to a restaurant, but then I thought maybe something a little different would be nice,” said Akiyama. “Something a little more… personal.”
Arai didn’t know what he’d expected Akiyama to say, but he readily recovered from his surprise.
“That’s very kind of you to offer,” said Arai.
For a fraction of a second, Akiyama’s apprehension spiked before being soothed by Arai’s next words.
“I think that sounds nice,” Arai said. “Do you want to have dinner at your place or mine?”
“Then..!!”
“By all means,” said Arai. “I would love to have dinner with you.”
Akiyama beamed.
“Really? That’s great!!”
He quickly went back to being embarrassed.
“As for whose apartment… I know that I’m the one who offered, but I think your kitchen is probably bigger. Would that… be alright?”
“I don’t mind at all,” said Arai. “You’re welcome to my kitchen.”
“T-Thank you,” said Akiyama. “And I’m bringing supplies, so I promise I won’t just be raiding your cabinets.”
Arai’s smile was as good as a laugh.
“Since this is a special occasion, shall I bring drinks?”
“You don’t have to go out of your way…”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” replied Arai, teasing lightly. “Am I correct in guessing that you were hoping to surprise me with the dish? You don’t want me to lurk over your shoulder while you cook.”
“You’re good at reading me, huh?” said Akiyama. “I guess I can’t keep anything from you, Arai-san.”
Arai handed Akiyama his apartment key.
“Why don’t you go on ahead and get started? I’ll pick up something that we can share.” Arai’s hand hovered for a moment. “Besides, it’s rather rare.”
“Rare? What is?” asked Akiyama.
Arai’s smile this time was a little lopsided.
“In my line of work, surprises are usually of the gruesome variety.”
“Ah.”
The shadow in Arai’s face receded.
“I’ll be looking forward to this,” he said.
The words that should have been encouragement made butterflies flutter about within Akiyama’s ribcage. He gave Arai his brightest smile.
“You won’t be disappointed,” he said.
-
Akiyama hurried to pick up all the supplies he needed and triple-checked his list before heading to Arai’s apartment. He unlocked the door with some difficulty thanks to the bags he carried. He slipped off his shoes in the entranceway and made his way to the kitchen area. He placed everything he’d brought out onto the countertop.
“No pressure,” he said. “I can do this.”
He washed his hands and got to work. Nervousness strung through him as he progressed. Why hadn’t he thought to tell Arai when to be back? What if the food got cold? It had to be perfect. He couldn’t afford to mess up.
He procured the biggest pan he could find in Arai’s cabinets and poured in some oil. As the meat began to sizzle merrily, he started to feel a bit better about his efforts. They certainly didn’t look bad. That had to be a good first sign.
As he was thinking that, he heard a knock at the door.
“Huh? Oh, that has to be Arai-san!!” said Akiyama. “Right, he doesn’t have the apartment key because he gave it to me…”
Akiyama set down the spatula carelessly and made his way out of the kitchen area.
“I’m coming,” he called.
He went to the front door and peered through the peephole. He smiled and opened the door.
“Akiyama-san, I’ve returned.”
The apron-clad Akiyama beamed.
“Welcome back, Arai-san. Heh heh.”
“You seem to be in good spirits,” said Arai. “Speaking of good spirits, I’ve brought drinks. I hope that you won’t object to my selections.”
“Ha ha, never,” said Akiyama. “Anything you pick is great.”
He moved aside. Arai stepped in, took off his shoes, and neatly lined them up next to Akiyama’s shoes. Akiyama shut the door behind him.
“So, what did you get?” he asked.
“Well, I wasn’t sure which would be best, so I admit I may have bought more than strictly necessary.”
Arai held out one bag to Akiyama, who curiously pulled out a bottle. The curl of fancy letters and a shiny label sent a thrill through him. Then he read the label.
“Ohh! Is this a Cabernet Sauvignon? You didn’t have to, Arai-san…”
“No, no, it’s fine,” said Arai. “I don’t normally buy wine by the bottle, but there’s no harm in indulging occasionally. Although, since I wasn’t sure what you cooked, I also got a bottle of Chardonnay. There’s also some beer if you’d prefer.”
Elation filled Akiyama’s chest.
“Aha ha, you really shouldn’t have! Somehow it feels like you’re the one treating me now,” said Akiyama. “I don’t know if the dinner I prepared is up to quality standards.”
Arai smiled at that, but then his brows furrowed.
“Is something burning?” he said.
Akiyama’s face fell, and his eyes widened in horror.
“Oh shit!!” he said. “No, no, no,” he cried, and he dashed back to the stovetop that he’d left unattended.
He frantically shut off the burner, and grabbed the spatula that was still resting in the pan. He had to scrape with the spatula to gain any purchase on the first smoking patty for a few seconds, and his heart sank at the charred black color that greeted him. One by one, he flipped them and felt growing despair. Every single one, ruined.
By this point Arai had set the drinks on the table and joined Akiyama at the stovetop.
“How is it?” he said.
He saw the charred food in the pan.
“Oh,” he said. “You made hamburg steak? I haven’t had that in quite some time.”
Akiyama could feel his insides twisting. His grip on the spatula tightened in his distress. It was then that he noticed that part of the spatula had melted, too. The floor seemed to be liquifying underneath his feet, and he wanted nothing more than to sink under and drown.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Arai-san.
The words of reassurance had the opposite effect on Akiyama. He could not bring himself to look at Arai.
“It’s alright,” said Arai.
“No, it’s not !!”
“Akiyama-san, look,” Arai started to say.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I really messed up.”
Akiyama blinked hard.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “This was supposed to be… But I… I can fix this. Please just…” Akiyama’s throat was starting to hurt. “I’ll… I can make you something else, I swear. No, I’ll order you something nicer. I’ll eat the burnt stuff.”
“There’s no need for that,” said Arai.
“I’m sorry.” Akiyama struggled to hold back his tears. “I was an idiot for thinking I could pull off something so simple. I just wanted to do something for you, but I...”
Arai glanced again at the charred food and then noticed something else. A wet droplet on Akiyama’s hand, followed by another.
“I understand how you feel,” Arai said. “I’m honestly flattered that you were thinking about me. Knowing you, I’m sure that you must have been planning this for a little while at least. I feel partly responsible because I distracted you.”
“No, it’s my fault,” said Akiyama. “It’s because I’m a careless idiot, and all I did was cause trouble for you, Arai-san. I’m just a failure.”
Arai clapped his hand firmly on Akiyama’s shoulder.
“ Akiyama-san. ”
The other man gave a start. His head lifted, although he didn’t yet have the strength to face Arai.
“You’re not a failure, Akiyama-san. I’m not disappointed in you, either. I’m sure you know better than anyone that things don’t always work out how we want them to, but you’re being too hard on yourself. We’ll get through this together. I still want to enjoy a meal with you. Don’t you want the same thing?”
Akiyama sniffled and nodded. Arai thought of what else they could eat. He thought very hard.
“What about pizza?” said Arai.
“Eh?”
Akiyama snuffled and blinked away some tears. He looked at Arai for the first time in bafflement.
“Did… you say pizza?” he said.
“Yes, pizza.”
Akiyama’s mouth opened as his mind tried to wrangle with the odd suggestion from Arai.
“Er, Arai-san,” said Akiyama, snuffling, “When you say pizza…”
“I’m sure you’ve seen this around Kamurocho. I believe there’s a restaurant called Pizza-La that offers a delivery service to one’s home.”
“Well, yes, that’s true, but I didn’t know you were such a big fan of western cuisine,” Akiyama said. “It originates from Italy.”
“I’ve never tried it,” said Arai.
“Huh?!”
Akiyama’s confusion by this point was such that he’d stopped crying.
“It’s not as if I’ve never had western cuisine, but since pizza is meant for more than one person, I’ve never had a reason to order any. I’d like to try it. Besides, you wanted to quietly enjoy dinner at home, right? If I had to guess, you’re probably not feeling up to a restaurant right now. Pizza is supposed to be quick and convenient.”
“Um, but,” said Akiyama. “Even if you say that, what about the wine that you bought?”
Arai didn’t understand the question.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“It’s not cheap, you know? I know how much a bottle of sauvignon costs on average, and that brand is expensive. Plus, you got chardonnay on top of that. Is pizza really the kind of food you want to pair with expensive wine? Now sure, you did get beer, but is this fine with you? What if it turns out that you don’t even like pizza?”
Arai considered those words.
“Is it really that odd? What’s wrong with that?” he said.
When Akiyama continued to give him a perplexed stare, Arai mulled over his words for a minute.
“Akiyama-san, meeting you was special,” said Arai. “I never imagined that I would become good acquaintances with someone I met by chance. Aren’t we allowed to cherish that how we want to?”
“Arai-san…”
“What does it matter if pizza is cheap?” said Arai. “It’s special because I’ll be able to share it with you.”
Akiyama inhaled with surprise.
“It’s true I spent a little more money on the wine. Call it a rare whim, but it has nothing to do with the price. Nobody’s ever offered to cook dinner for me before. Who would do that for a yakuza?”
Arai’s expression softened. He patted Akiyama’s shoulder once.
“Only you,” he said. “I did something a little uncharacteristic, but then I suppose you’re a bit of an uncharacteristic person. And who knows? Maybe the pizza and wine will make a great pairing.”
Akiyama could feel the blossom of warmth in his face. He barely heard Arai’s question.
“So how about it?”
Akiyama quickly nodded.
“Sure,” he said. “I’d like that.”
“Then it’s settled. Let’s order pizza.”
Akiyama nodded, but then he glanced over at the burnt food still resting in the pan.
“Uh, I need to clean this up first,” he mumbled.
“I can help you with that,” said Arai.
“No . I won’t let you clean up my mess,” said Akiyama firmly. “And I’ll buy you a new spatula, too. Why don’t you look over the menu and see if anything catches your eye?”
“Alright,” said Arai in understanding. “I’ll do some research.”
As soon as Arai left the kitchen area, Akiyama took a deep breath and re-rolled his sleeves. He transferred his failed attempt at hamburg steak onto an empty plate before he set the pan to soak in some soapy water. He busied himself with putting ingredients away and wiping down the countertops. He found himself so focused on scrubbing the pan that he almost forgot about Arai over in the next room. Arai for his part was reading the pizza menu with such serious consideration that he uttered no sound. Occasionally his thick brows would lift in surprise, and he quietly marveled at the kinds of pizza that one could buy. He didn’t really know much about pizza, but the variety of toppings impressed him.
Eventually, Arai called out to Akiyama.
“Akiyama-san,” he said. “What kind of pizza do you like? There’s a lot of different toppings.”
When Akiyama gave no answer, Arai leaned back from the laptop he had open.
“Akiyama-san?” he asked.
He got up and went into the kitchen. The countertops were sparkling, but Akiyama was still elbows-deep in sudsy water scrubbing at the pan.
Arai went up to him.
“Hey, Akiyama-san,” he said, touching his shoulder.
“Ah!”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” said Arai.
“O-Oh, Arai-san, did you order the pizza?”
“No, not yet,” he replied.
“R-Really?”
Arai gently patted Akiyama’s shoulder.
“Why don’t you take a break for a second and come over to help me choose what to order.”
“Alright,” said Akiyama. “I’m honestly fine with whatever you decide to order, though.”
“Hmm, but take a look,” said Arai, sitting back down in front of his laptop and indicating the screen. “I had no idea there were this many different types of pizza. Plus, I never imagined such ingredients could go on a pizza. For example, this one has curry.”
Akiyama hummed.
“The modern era is something, eh?” he said. “So what do you like?”
“All these flavors seem so interesting.”
“Hmm… Then in that case, what about trying a quarter style?”
“Quarter, huh?”
“Yeah, see, these quarter types let you try four different types in one.”
“Hmm… and it even has two of each, so we could each try a slice.”
“The question is which four flavors sound the best…”
They finally decided on a pizza, and Akiyama would not hear anything of letting Arai pay for it. After placing the order, Akiyama went back to cleaning the pan until it was spotless.
“Sorry about the mess,” Akiyama said.
“What are you saying?” said Arai kindly. “My kitchen area is looking cleaner than ever.”
“Heh. As if you’re not the most tidy person I know,” said Akiyama with a shake of his head. “I’ve never seen this kitchen look dirty until I came along and…”
“I’m glad you’re here,” said Arai. “Let’s not dwell on it.”
Akiyama fussed about in the kitchen until Arai gently suggested that he come join him in the next room. Akiyama meekly obeyed.
“Ah, I really am sorry about this,” said Akiyama with a sigh.
“Haven’t you heard of ‘happy accidents’?” said Arai. “I’m looking forward to tasting a new dish, even if it’s not what was originally on the menu for tonight.”
Akiyama let his body sink back against the couch, and he shut his eyes. Arai studied him.
“Do you want to start with some drinks while we wait for the pizza?” suggested Arai.
“Hmm…” said Akiyama. “Dunno.”
“You know,” said Arai. “I wonder if we should make something as a side dish.”
“Ah? Like what?” asked Akiyama. His eyes flicked open and he glanced over at Arai.
“How about a nice salad?”
Akiyama groaned and clicked his tongue.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you like salads?” said Arai.
“Urgh…”
“Salads are healthy,” said Arai.
“Ugh, I know.”
“Not a fan, huh?” said Arai. “Even though you’ve eaten my vegetable dishes before.”
Akiyama made a whiny sound, and Arai got to his feet.
“Why don’t you rest a little? I’ll go check on what vegetables I have.”
Arai rustled about in the fridge and began setting things on the counter. Akiyama didn’t move. He kept his eyes shut, and began to half-doze to the sound of running water, the jostling of vegetables inside a colander, the slick shearing of vegetables getting peeled, and the thunk of a knife against a cutting board.
Akiyama didn’t even have the energy to sigh. He only felt tired. In the far recess of consciousness he could detect the clinking of metal against a bowl. Sounded like glass and metal.
What was Arai doing? Probably making something perfect, like always. Perfect, just like Arai. That’s the kind of man he so desperately wanted to prove himself to, but who was he kidding? Akiyama knew he was little better than a discarded food wrapper. But Arai? A man who was so handsome and strong. Ambitious. The kind of man he’d place all his bets on without a doubt. He wanted so badly to be wanted. To be needed by him. Even if Arai refused help, he had to make his dreams a reality. He’d make him the king of this metal and concrete jungle called home.
He was startled awake by a doorbell. For a sleepy second, he didn’t remember what the sound meant.
“Oh, the pizza is here,” said Arai.
“Ah!! Ah, wait, I got it, I got it,” said Akiyama, bolting off the couch.
“Be careful!” called Arai. “No need to rush!”
Akiyama slammed to a halt, but then skidded on the floor and smacked into the door. He opened the door to see a slightly startled delivery person with the signature red and white colors of Pizza La.
“Ah, hello, sir..! Your pizza order…”
“Right, yes, thank you! Um, the total… What was it again?”
“The total comes to ¥2,580 for one medium pizza.”
Akiyama patted himself for money for a few awkward seconds before handing it over and taking the pizza box.
“Here you go, sorry about that.”
“Not at all. Thank you! Enjoy your pizza, sir.”
“You too,” said Akiyama.
They gave a polite nod, and Akiyama closed the door. He groaned internally and scrunched up his face.
Ugh, so uncool…
“Akiyama-san?” called Arai.
“Coming!!” replied Akiyama.
Arai exited the kitchen area holding two bowls of salad.
“The salad I made is ready, too. I hope you try some.”
Akiyama set the pizza on the table.
“Oh, alright,” he said reluctantly.
“And what do you want to drink? Red or white wine?”
“Beer is fine, really.”
“I suppose we could always save the wine for afterwards,” said Arai.
Arai wasn’t the type of man to wink, but his teasing yet gentle tone made Akiyama’s cheeks warm. Arai didn’t notice because he was busy getting two cans of beer out of the fridge.
“Here you go, Akiyama-san.”
“Er, th-thanks, Arai-san.” He cleared his throat. “Well, shall we?”
“Go ahead.”
Akiyama opened up the pizza box.
“Whoa, this pizza looks good,” said Akiyama. “I mean, I know the website pictures are nice and all, but I’m pretty impressed.”
They each chose a slice.
“Before we eat, how about a toast?” suggested Arai.
Akiyama cracked open his can of beer.
“Cheers!!” he said and leaned over as Arai met him in the middle.
“Cheers.”
“Alright, no sense in letting the pizza get cold,” said Akiyama, and he took a bite. He blissfully chewed and then noticed that Arai was looking intently at him. “What is it?” asked Akiyama around a mouthful of cheese.
“So you eat it with your hands?”
Akiyama almost burnt his tongue on the hot cheese.
“HwahH-?!” Akiyama quickly took a swig of cold beer. “Phew…”
“Did I say something strange?” asked Arai.
“Er, no, no!! Not really,” said Akiyama. “Sorry, I was just… I know you said you hadn’t eaten pizza before, but I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” said Akiyama. “Besides, I heard in Italy, the locals sometimes use a fork and knife for pizza.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, that’s what I heard. I think it might have to do with the style it’s served to you, or maybe it’s the type you buy. I’m not sure. Of course, outside of Italy, it’s probably more common to eat it with your hands.”
Arai didn’t question how Akiyama knew something like that, but he nodded along.
“I’ll follow your lead,” he said.
Akiyama watched Arai take a bite of pizza.
“It’s certainly flavorful,” he said.
“I’m glad!” Akiyama said.
The two of them leisurely enjoyed their pizza. They each wound up eating the same two flavors and had a perfect half of pizza left.
“Phew… I don’t know if I can eat another bite. It really is like multiple entrees in one.”
“Akiyama-san, are you sure you don’t want any of the salad I prepared?”
“Urk.”
Akiyama noticed his untouched bowl of salad.
“Um, well,” he said. “That’s… I forgot…”
“Are you full?”
“Y-Yeah. U-Uh…”
“That’s alright,” said Arai. “You shouldn’t try to force yourself to eat it if you don’t have room in your stomach. Maybe next time.”
“Er, yeah…” Akiyama fidgeted. “Sorry, Arai-san… After you went to the trouble of making it for me…”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll save it for tomorrow.”
“O-Okay, great,” said Akiyama.
He tried to change the subject by asking which pizzas Arai preferred, and then he listened attentively while Arai thoughtfully discussed each pizza flavor he’d tasted. The texture and thickness of the crust, the way the ingredients complimented each other, the sauce. Akiyama could listen for hours. He tried not to notice the way Arai’s lips moved when he talked. He tried instead to remember all the things Arai liked, and he tried not to look like he was mentally scribbling down everything.
He listened, and he barely remembered what he said in response as they began to clear the table. Arai covered the leftover salad bowls and put them in the fridge. Experimentally, he stuck the pizza box inside and found that the fridge door could still close.
“I suppose there’s no harm in just leaving it in the box. We can have the leftovers for lunch tomorrow.”
“Sounds good,” said Akiyama.
Arai looked at him, and then pointedly at the two bottles of wine that still sat on the countertop.
“Well, shall we relocate to the living room?” he said. “I think some wine will be a nice way to wind down, don’t you think?”
“Y-Yeah,” said Akiyama.
Arai procured a couple of wine glasses. Akiyama eyed the furniture before sitting down on the long couch. Arai exited the kitchen and set the glasses down on the coffee table. He turned to the counter and picked up the two bottles of wine.
“Which one do you want to try first?” he asked as he turned and held them up.
“E-Either one is fine with me,” mumbled Akiyama.
Arai brought over both.
“Well, the night is long,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to savor these.”
Arai opened the cabernet sauvignon and poured Akiyama the first glass of wine. He set down the bottle and joined Akiyama on the couch.
“Well, cheers,” said Akiyama.
Their wine glasses clinked, and both of them took a sip.
“Oh, this is really good,” said Akiyama.
“Yes, I seem to have gotten lucky with my choice,” said Arai.
“Lucky? You’re so humble,” said Akiyama. “I’ve tried a lot of expensive wines. I bet you have a good eye for it.”
“If you say so,” said Arai.
They leisurely sipped their wine while sitting a comfortable distance apart from each other. Not too far, but not too close.
“Thanks for getting this wine,” said Akiyama. “Really.”
“I’m glad you seem to be enjoying the taste.”
“Even though I don’t really…” Akiyama started to say. He made a vague gesture.
Arai looked over at him.
“Not much of a wine drinker these days?” he said.
“... You could say that,” said Akiyama. He sipped more wine. “I don’t feel like I did anything to deserve this, though. It’s almost too nice.”
Arai frowned.
“You don’t have to do anything to deserve something nice.”
Akiyama absentmindedly stared into his glass.
“Are you still upset about earlier?” asked Arai.
“No, it’s not that,” said Akiyama.
Arai wasn’t convinced, but Akiyama kept talking.
“I don’t know,” he said. “It just occurred to me that I haven’t gone out to drink wine in years now. Not since I was… fired from my job.”
Akiyama did not say what he really meant, and Arai didn’t ask, but he sensed as if by instinct the real meaning behind those words.
“I-I’m sorry,” said Akiyama. “Talking about such depressing things…”
“No, not at all,” said Arai. “I did not mean to remind you of painful memories like that, but it’s not shameful to be honest about your pain.”
Akiyama gazed pensively into his glass. Finally, he spoke.
“I used to take Eri-chan to clubs and buy expensive drinks for her. Champagne, wine, you name it. I did all kinds of research, and I’d take notes of what she liked or didn’t like.”
Arai listened.
“I… used to brag about how I was going to get married and… everything was going to…”
Akiyama’s words snapped in half abruptly. He downed his glass of wine in a moment. His throat bobbed. Arai watched him swallow.
“Sorry,” said Akiyama again. “I was a real idiot back then.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Yeah. Right.”
The derision in Akiyama’s words oozed like viscous poison.
Arai’s thick brows pulled together at once. He set his glass of wine down on the table and suddenly leaned in close, too close, even, and he grasped Akiyama by the shoulder.
“Wh-”
Arai’s knee rested up on the couch. He had placed his free hand on top of Akiyama’s, which still loosely held his freshly-downed glass of wine.
Arai murmured in his ear.
“Careful,” he said. His lips almost tickled Akiyama’s earlobe. An ever so slight tilt of his hand. “Your wine glass,” said Arai. “You looked like you were about to drop it.”
“... Eh?” said Akiyama faintly.
Arai, however, had spoken the truth. Akiyama’s hand had gone dangerously slack.
“I can only imagine how hard it is to reflect back on those moments of frivolity without wounding yourself,” said Arai. “But… I can’t help thinking it would be a shame if you forgot to enjoy the precious things you experience, whether it’s the past or the present. They’re precious because they’re fleeting. Remember that.”
He drew back a little. Arai did not seem to pay any mind to the fact that his knee was up against Akiyama’s outer thigh.
“Shall I take your glass?” said Arai.
Akiyama’s eyes were glossed over, and a warmth spread across his face. His wine-wet lips parted, and he noiselessly allowed Arai to take his empty glass from him. Arai set it on the table with a clink, and he retrieved his own glass, which still had wine in it. He sat.
“You’ve endured a lot,” said Arai. He took a sip of wine. “Even if there are moments that you may not get to experience again, I hope you’ll still allow yourself to see the good in what you have in front of you.”
Arai took another sip of wine. The back of Akiyama’s head rested against the couch. In a daze, he turned his head left. His vision swam with the shape of Arai. His heavy eyelids opened and shut as he tried to bring Arai into focus. Akiyama could feel the couch his body rested on, and only the weight of his limbs gave him any sense of self.
He could feel the intensity of Arai’s gaze. He couldn’t have moved even had he wanted to, not with those eyes pinning him down. He tried so hard to shrug off the daze clouding his mind. But a tiny part of him wanted to give himself over to Arai entirely. His vision swam. He tried to pull himself together. His eyes shifted, but, as if magnetized, Akiyama found his line of sight drawn to Arai’s lips around the glass of rich, red wine. He wanted those lips against his bare skin. He wondered if Arai could sense the shiver of desire just below the surface.
When Arai looked at him like that, he could liquefy. A voiceless scream of keen need chanted in his skull. He wanted to forget everything for one night. Helpless and…
Arai finished his glass and set it down on the table.
The clinking of glass on the table. So loud. Arai got up, and he took deliberate steps forward in his direction. Akiyama felt warmth blossom anew in his cheeks. Arai passed by him. In confusion, Akiyama’s eyes followed Arai as he made hs way around the coffee table and went into the kitchen. Akiyama’s head tilted. Arai seemed so far away…
What exactly was he doing? Akiyama couldn’t deny the seed of disappointment in his chest. For a split second, he had thought Arai might push him down onto the couch. He tried to control his thoughts.
The sound of cabinets. Clinking of glass.
Arai returned holding two clean wine glasses. When he was a couple feet away from Akiyama he made a gesture with them.
Akiyama looked up at him.
“Well, Akiyama-san?” said Arai. “Are you interested in a second glass? We have yet to try this Chardonnay.”
His intense gaze. Akiyama could never tell if it was intentional, but it didn’t matter. Not really. He could not refuse those eyes.
Arai seemed capable of reading every twitch of his facial muscles. Surely Arai knew what he was doing with each footstep and that sidelong glance to make sure that he was still watching him. Arai stood unmoving, waiting for his answer. As if he could refuse. Arai knew it, and still he pinned him with that look that peered within his soul. All he was laid bare and trembling. It terrified and thrilled Akiyama at the same time.
He blinked. He took a breath, and he sat up. He nodded, and he saw a glimmer of something akin to amusement in Arai’s eyes. He couldn’t trust his senses. Maybe he imagined it.
“Then, let’s try this Chardonnay,” Arai said.
Arai poured each glass with such poise. He handed one to Akiyama first before rejoining him on the couch.
“Cheers,” he said.
“Mm.”
Clink.
The wine made Akiyama’s mouth tingle. His insides tingled. He let out an unconscious laugh. Arai’s mouth quirked, and he raised a thick brow.
“What is it?” he said.
Akiyama continued to quietly laugh but shook his head.
“I take it you enjoy this one, too?” said Arai. “It has a bit more acidity than the other one. I don’t dislike it, though. It’s balanced.”
“Mm,” said Akiyama. “I knew you had a good eye for this.”
“Like I said, you give me too much credit.”
“So modest, Arai-san,” teased Akiyama.
Akiyama could feel the tingling spread through his body, but he did not find it unpleasant. A strange giddiness seemed to accompany the tingling sensation, and he didn’t really know why.
Arai said something. Akiyama found his mind unable to process what that something was, but he kept smiling happily. To be here on Arai’s couch with a belly full of food, and drinking good wine with him, listening to the sound of his voice… Could anything be better?
It didn’t matter what Arai said. Of course, he listened attentively, but he could feel the words themselves warm him up. Akiyama supposed it might just be the effects of the wine. Still, Arai’s voice was beautiful. Without meaning to, Akiyama found himself naturally tracking the cadence of Arai’s voice, the dips and the pauses. Even those brief pockets of silence felt measured. Something tantalizing.
By the third glass of wine, Akiyama felt bold enough to move in closer to Arai. He folded his legs to one side and dared to rest his head on Arai’s shoulder while laughing at a joke he’d said, and as his laugh naturally petered out, he waited almost breathless for what Arai would do about it.
Arai allowed his head to remain resting on his shoulder, and Akiyama felt a thrill of pleasure. When he realized that Arai wouldn’t push him off or move away, Akiyama squirmed closer and let out a happy sigh.
“It seems the wine has put you in a good mood,” said Arai.
“Mm.” Akiyama sighed in contentment again. “Ah, I want to stay like this forever,” he mumbled. “Feels so warm.”
“Warm… huh?” said Arai, mostly to himself.
He studied Akiyama for a minute in silence.
“Akiyama-san,” he began. “Why don’t you stay the night?”
“Hm?”
“It’s getting a bit late,” said Arai. “Please, feel free. It’s no trouble.”
“That’s kind of you, Arai-san,” said Akiyama. He laughed softly and wriggled closer. “Please take good care of me.”
Arai made a sound of affirmation.
“Thank you, Akiyama-san,” he said quietly. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness with dinner.”
“I’m sorry for ruining things earlier,” said Akiyama, half-sleepily.
“Stop that,” said Arai. His voice was still low but firm. “I won’t allow you to say that you ruined anything when you bought me dinner and gave me your company. Don’t make me repeat myself again.”
“... Thank you, Arai-san,” said Akiyama. “I just wanted to do something for you, that’s all.”
“You’ve done plenty,” said Arai. “... More than you realize,” he added.
“Meaning?” said Akiyama. A lilt of playfulness and curiosity crept into his voice.
“Having you here is…” Arai started to say.
He glanced at Akiyama, whose head rested on his shoulder, the sweep of brown hair always seeming to softly glow when it caught light. A tiny urge to touch his hair arose within Arai.
“It’s enough for me,” he said.
Before Akiyama could ask any more prodding questions, Arai quickly changed the subject. He’d already said too much.
“It’s getting late,” said Arai. “I’ll rinse our wine glasses. Why don’t you get ready for bed?”
“What’s the hurry?” complained Akiyama. “Right here is fine.”
Arai ignored Akiyama and began to get up.
“If you’re not careful, you’ll get a crick in your neck if you sleep in such a strange position,” he said.
“Boo,” muttered Akiyama as he felt Arai shifting out from under him.
“Don’t complain so much,” said Arai. “I have dishes to do, and besides, you can’t just nap on my shoulder forever.”
He gave a singular pat to Akiyama’s shoulder as he stood.
“You’re no fun, Arai-san,” Akiyama sulked.
“It’s better not to leave a mess for tomorrow,” said Arai. “Haven’t you heard the saying? Don’t put off-”
“If you ask me, we’re all better off taking more naps instead of working so hard. You don’t always gain something of value from staying busy.”
Arai shook his head.
“Who knows?” he said. “I’m not sure I believe that, but I suppose getting enough rest is important, too. These quiet moments are not bad.”
“So hurry up and join me again,” whined Akiyama.
That got a short laugh out of Arai.
“Alright. Settle down,” he said. “Really, you make such a big deal out of things, Akiyama-san. It should only take me a minute.”
Arai gathered up the empty wine glasses and took them to the sink to wash them. When he was done, he toweled his hands dry.
“Alright, Akiyama-san, I’m done washing up,” said Arai. “See, I didn’t keep you waiting long at…”
He trailed off at the sight of Akiyama dozing on the couch.
“What am I going to do with you?” said Arai softly. “You haven't brushed your teeth yet.”
He retrieved the throw blanket from the top of the couch and draped it over Akiyama. “I suppose it’s better to let you sleep here rather than wake you,” reasoned Arai. “Good night, Akiyama-san.”
He half-turned to go, and he felt a touch on his wrist. He stopped dead and glanced. One of Akiyama’s arms supported his head. His free hand touched Arai. The tips of his fingers only brushed against Arai’s wrist, so it would have been exceedingly easy to simply move away, but Arai stood in place as though frozen there.
“Really,” he said again, “What am I going to do with you?”
He sat down on the edge of the couch. Akiyama’s fingers still rested on his wrist. Arai absentmindedly found himself reaching out as though to touch Akiyama’s hair. His hand stopped just shy of it.
“Always so needy,” said Arai. “Am I really worth clinging to like this?”
He spoke so quietly that he didn’t know if Akiyama heard him, and the dozing man seemed to give no sign of having heard him, either.
“You’re hopeless,” said Arai, but there was no derision in it, only a kind of tired acceptance. “What exactly is it that you’re holding on to?”
Arai sat in silence like a statue for thirty minutes more.
“Good night,” he said at last. “Akiyama-san.”
He got up. His eyes were dull with an odd melancholy as he walked away and broke contact with Akiyama’s relaxed fingers. It should have been that easy. When did it begin to feel like something invisible still bound them together?
“Sleep well,” said Arai.
He got ready for bed. Each movement was mechanical but precise, despite his tiredness. He automatically folded up his clothes before putting them in his laundry hamper. He lay in bed in his night clothes. Rather than shut his eyes, Arai stared into the darkness and absorbed the silence until it roared within him. The emptiness of the room had never howled so loudly. Arai shut it all out. Such things had never bothered him before. He did not hate solitude, and yet… Despite his efforts to deny bonds with other people, there remained one thin, invisible thread that trailed out under the closed bedroom door, down the hallway, and snaked up onto the couch to where Akiyama lay sleeping.
Arai did his best to ignore the existence of this thread, and he fell asleep convinced of the mantra he repeated in his head during these hours of solitude that, when the time came, he would be ready to sever the thread without hesitation.