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Before that second little red bar appeared, Satomi was ready to blame the nausea on last night’s hamburg steak, no matter how many times he’d had it. Before it appeared, he thought puberty was just a thing about making it harder to sing the solos in choir. He thought the tattoo was the only thing that kept him around Kyouji.
Satomi sighed, threw the pregnancy test in the trash then looked at himself in the mirror, leaning into the sink. Staring at the pale reflection of his even paler self, he couldn’t fathom someone’s lips had ever willingly met his, that his embrace had ever been returned, and although alcohol accidentally finding its way into their drinks had been the perfect excuse for a senseless move to be made, the fact that it had been Kyouji was the least believable thing in all this. How could a bastard with no guts dare to mess up his ?
…Mess up ? Satomi stepped back and laid a palm on his allegedly growing stomach. He lifted the hem of his shirt a dozen inches, not much had changed. Things were messed up, yet he couldn’t shake off a sense of near normalcy for some reason.
Guess I should message him, he thought. Looking at his phone reminded him that they hadn’t messaged each other since that night.
The two men found themselves in Satomi’s room, finishing up the last few bites of the bountiful boxes of 551 Kyouji had inconspicuously brought. They behaved most unassumingly, Kyouji’s charisma was present as usual, even just sitting there with his legs crossed.
“...And then the guy, half naked, had to sing a song in front of everyone while standing on one leg, lotus pose or something.” Kyouji told his stories with a light smirk and a look in his eyes that made it seem like he was giving a life lesson even though he never really said anything.
“It’s the tree pose actually.”
“Yeah, yeah, that. He wasn’t all that good though, not like the last guy. Oh wait, did I tell you about what happened with that writer ?”
“Mhmm, you said he sang really well.”
“That he did.” After what seemed like a reflective final bite of the pork buns, he downed a half glass of water and resumed. “I also heard it was going on hiatus, that uh… what’s it called, oh yeah, Neko…”
“I’m pregnant.”
“...pani ?”
Kyouji, who came here with full intent to act normally, felt as though that final bite had sealed him into a different fate. He wanted to send the message that whatever happened in that karaoke booth that night wasn’t even worth mentioning, that coming here today would prove that nothing had changed, that there was no elephant in the room – little did he know how big that elephant actually was. A bead of cold sweat formed across the side of his handsome face as he began to regret ever finishing his meal instead of letting the charade go on forever, and storing the leftovers in the fridge. He should never have taken that final bite.
“I’ll be getting an abortion, so… you don’t have to worry about me. We’ll never see each other again after this.”
Kyouji’s composure seemed to almost return for a second.
“Got it ! I’ll pay for it.” he said with a smile.
Satomi shook his head and hummed negatively.
“I’ll pay for it, I'd been saving a lot of money lately already”
He took out a bag of 150 000 yen in coins, feeling some relief that the cost of removing things from your body apparently didn’t differ all that much from one procedure to another.
“Are those… coins ?”
“Mn.”
“Why don’t you want me to pay for it ?”
Satomi’s empty stare was directed at the tatami floor in a moment of silence. He hadn’t expected a dramatic reaction, some sort of theatrical ‘It’s not mine !’ followed by ‘You’re the only one I did it with !’, neither did he expect some deep and thoughtful discussion about his feelings and whether or not he should keep the pregnancy. Perhaps he too wanted the usual, a meal, a never ending one sided discussion, the things he fell in love with. He wanted one last confirmation that he could let go of them.
“So that you can’t say you dealt with the situation just because you threw money at it.”
“Then, what do you want with me ?”
“...Let’s go to the abortion clinic.”
*
A few days later, Kyouji, jacket in his arm, stood next to the clinic bed in which Satomi was resting. The procedure had barely taken 15 minutes, turns out it takes about as long to remove the issue as it does to put the issue in. Satomi took his glasses off, times like these highlighted the indecency in Kyouji’s beauty.
“Then, Satomi-kun, how do you feel ?”
“I’m fine.” He’d taken a few painkillers pre-procedure, letting his mind rest easy on the thought that he was taking control of his life. He is much too young and unfit to bear a child, let alone the child of an active yakuza member that has no guarantee of sticking around. It’s not that hard to let go, it’s for the best.
Wanting to distract himself from the awkwardness, Kyouji grabbed Satomi’s chart that was left on the side table. His eyes wandered across the various pieces of information scattered around before stopping at the kanji for Satomi’s name.
“You have a nice name, Satomi-kun.”
“My name is pretty normal.”
“Exactly. It’s pretty normal to write a name nicely, isn’t it ?”
“What’s that all about ?”
“Nothing. Well, I have to go to work now.”
“Mhmm.”
Kyouji placed the chart back down and wore his jacket. He stared at the man before him one last time, lightly laying a hand onto Satomi’s stomach before bidding farewell with that same hand.
“See ya later.”