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Hirose Ryo was living a quiet boring life before Hua Fujinaga Sakuya transferred into Tokyo University.
Ryo was a third-year communication studies student who mostly kept to himself, used to sitting in the back rows of lecture halls and slipping away as soon as classes ended.
He had spent his high school years being target practice for bullies, an experience that left him cautious and thoroughly convinced that keeping his head down was the safest way to exist.
On top of that, Ryo was closeted…being gay felt like a heavy, invisible burden he carried alone, a deep bone of loneliness he could never figure out how to explain to anyone. He had spent years assuming he would simply live out his life in the background until he eventually disappeared.
Then Sakuya arrived in the middle of the semester.
According to university gossip, Sakuya was a third-year medical transfer student from Guangdong, a Chinese-Japanese citizen who wanted to explore his Japanese roots. His Chinese family name, Hua (花), meant flowers blooming Cantonese. He stood out immediately on campus. He had porcelain white skin, sharp features, and a towering height that made him impossible to miss in a crowd.
During Sakuya’s first couple of months on campus, Sakuya wore his hair dyed a striking gray, though he eventually let it grow back out to its natural dark color once his clinical training began. Even in his dark long sleeves under his medical jacket, he carried a bright, easy warmth that drew people toward him wherever he went.
Of course, Ryo was not impressed at first... Okay sure, Sakuya was handsome, he admits to that but Ryo figured guys like that were loud, superficial, and fleeting.
That assumption lasted until one afternoon in the student lounge. Ryo was sitting at a corner table with his notebook when Sakuya walked straight over, pulled out the chair beside him, and sat down with a bright smile.
"Hi," Sakuya said in slightly broken Japanese, resting his elbows on the wood. "Do you mind if I sit here? I just wanted to sit with you. You seem nice, and quiet, I like quiet. I do not like talking too much when I study."
Ryo looked around the room, expecting to see a camera or a group of students giggling at a joke, but no one was paying attention to them. "Are you sure? There are empty tables over there."
"I am sure," Sakuya insisted, beaming as he pulled out his medical textbook.
From that day on, Sakuya became a constant presence in Ryo's life. They shared a few general education electives, and Sakuya made a habit of claiming the seat next to Ryo every single time. Whenever they walked together between buildings under the yellow gingko trees, Sakuya would casually reach over, ruffle Ryo's curly brown hair, or gently pinch Ryo's freckled cheek with a grin.
"Sakuya-kun, stop being so clingy!" Ryo whispered harshly one afternoon, pulling his scarf up over his nose as students glanced their way. "People are looking at us."
Sakuya did not let go but instead, he tugged Ryo's beanie down over his eyes with a low, cheerful laugh. "Let them look. In Guangdong, we like soft things. Ryo-kun is soft, like a brown bear. I like touching soft things."
"I am not a stuffed animal," Ryo huffed, swatting Sakuya's hand away, though his ears burned bright red.
"Well, then you’re a very fluffy university student," Sakuya corrected happily, sliding his hands into his coat pockets with a mischievous grin.
Sakuya was kind, attentive, and fiercely loyal. Within a few months, he had become Ryo's first real friend, and soon, the center of his world.
They spent their university years inseparable and they explored small noodle shops after evening lectures, took long bus rides out toward coastal beaches on weekends, and spent evenings in Ryo's small apartment studying side by side.
Ryo loved him completely, but he kept his feelings locked tight in his chest, terrified that speaking them out loud would destroy the only genuine connection he had ever known.
After graduation, Sakuya returned to Guangzhou to begin his medical residency at Sun Yat-sen University Cancer Center and exactly that time, like how fate plays and betrayed, care for his mother, Hua Lian, who had been diagnosed with cancer.
Despite the long distance, Sakuya made a strict rule for himself: every summer, no matter how exhausted he was from hospital shifts, he would take his two weeks of mandatory leave and fly to Tokyo to spend them at Ryo's apartment.
Four years passed like this. Four summers of shared meals, late-night walks, and an unspoken tension that hummed between them whenever their shoulders brushed.
During his second year of living alone after graduation, Ryo visited the columbarium where his late mother's ashes rested. Standing in front of the glass niche holding her urn, looking at her faded photograph, the weight of his loneliness had finally cracked open inside him.
"Mom," Ryo had whispered to the glass, his throat tight with unshed tears. "I never hid any boyfriend from you guys. I just never had one. Your boy is destined to be alone."
That memory weighed heavily on Ryo during the fourth summer visit. Sakuya had arrived looking exhausted from his residency shifts, his natural dark hair falling softly over his forehead, giving him a younger, gentler appearance that made Ryo's chest ache.
During the first week of Sakuya's stay, Ryo tried to bring the topic up casually over dinner. They were sitting on the floor by the coffee table, eating takeout noodles, when Ryo cleared his throat and looked down at his bowl.
"Sakuya-kun, you are twenty-seven now," Ryo said, trying to keep his tone light. "You are a doctor at a great hospital back home. Why haven't you found a girlfriend yet? You should find a nice girl in Guangzhou, settle down, and start a family."
Sakuya paused with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. He looked at Ryo for a second, then broke into a teasing, playful grin. "Why? Are you trying to get rid of me already? Are you kicking me out of your apartment?"
"No, I am serious," Ryo stammered, his cheeks turning red. "I just mean you should think about your future."
"My future is fine," Sakuya laughed, reaching across the table to pinch Ryo's freckled cheek before Ryo could dodge. "Stop worrying so much. I like my life right here…with you."
Sakuya brushed it off as banter, and Ryo dropped the subject. But the thought stayed rooted in Ryo's mind for the rest of the week, growing heavier with every passing day.
By the end of the second week, two nights before Sakuya was scheduled to fly back to Guangzhou, the suppressed anxiety finally boiled over.
It was late on a hot, humid night. The apartment lights were off, and the balcony door was cracked open just enough to let in the cool evening breeze and the distant chirping of summer cicadas.
Ryo and Sakuya were lying on the floor mat side by side, staring up at the ceiling. Scattered across the plaster were a few dim, glow-in-the-dark star stickers Ryo had stuck up there years ago when he first moved in. They glowed with a faint, soft green light in the dark room.
Ryo lifted his right hand into the cool air, his fingers loosely tracing the shape of one glowing star on the ceiling.
Beside him, Sakuya watched Ryo's arm in the dim light. Slowly, Sakuya raised his own hand, his long fingers reaching up until his palm met Ryo's in mid-air. Sakuya slid his fingers between Ryo's, lacing their hands together firmly before slowly lowering their joined hands down to rest on the mat between them.
Ryo turned his head on the pillow, looking at their interlaced fingers.
"Sakuya-kun," Ryo murmured softly.
"Yeah?" Sakuya whispered back, his voice low and peaceful.
Ryo swallowed hard, his throat dry. He tried to speak calmly, but the words felt stuck in his chest. "About what I said earlier this week... about you finding someone in Guangzhou."
Sakuya sighed lightly, turning on his side to look at Ryo. "Ryo-kun, come on. We have two days left. Let's not do this tonight."
Instead of answering immediately, Ryo went completely still and then, slowly, Ryo pulled his hand out of Sakuya's grip.
The loss of physical contact hung in the dark room, it was cold and heavy.
Sakuya blinked, staring at his own empty palm. "Ryo?"
Ryo rolled onto his side, turning his back toward Sakuya, staring at the shadowed wall, his breath coming in shallow-uneven hitches. The silence stretched between them for a long, suffocating minute, so thick you could hear the balcony curtain rustling in the wind.
"I went to my mom's memorial vault a few years back," Ryo said quietly. His voice was steady at first, but it carried a dangerous strain. "I stood in front of her picture in the columbarium and told her I was going to die alone. Because that is what I believed."
Sakuya shifted in the dark, his posture stiffening. "Ryo-kun, why are you bringing that up now?"
"Because every time you step off that plane, I feel sick with guilt," Ryo confessed, his voice beginning to tremble as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Your mother has cancer in Guangzhou, Sakuya-kun. She is sick, and she needs you. Your hospital needs you. But instead of being at home, you spend your only two weeks off every year sleeping on my floor mat."
"I choose to come here," Sakuya said, sitting up, his low voice tight. "No one forces me."
"That makes it worse!" Ryo blurted out, turning back to face Sakuya, tears finally spilling over his eyelashes in the faint green light of the ceiling stars. "Don't you see? You are tying yourself to someone who has nothing to offer you! I am a closeted, quiet nobody in a tiny apartment. You have a whole life waiting for you in China, but you keep coming back here because you feel obligated to check on me."
Ryo wiped his eyes furiously with his sleeve, his shoulders shaking as the years of bottled-up fear finally broke through. "I feel like I am taking you away from the world. I feel like I am keeping you trapped in my miserable life. It isn't fair to your mom, and it isn't fair to you. You need to stop coming here and find a normal girl to start a family with."
Sakuya didn't yell back. He sat on the floor mat, staring at Ryo's shaking shoulders in complete silence, taking in the full, painful weight of what Ryo had been carrying all week.
Slowly, Sakuya reached out. His large, warm hands cupped both sides of Ryo's face, his thumbs gently wiping away the hot tears on Ryo's cheeks.
"Look at me, Ryo," Sakuya said softly. His voice was rough, trembling around the edges with genuine hurt. "Please. Look at me."
Ryo opened his wet eyes, his breath hitching as he met Sakuya's dark gaze.
"Do you really think I fly across the ocean every year out of obligation?" Sakuya asked, searching Ryo's tear-streaked face. "Do you think I could just find some girl in Guangzhou and pretend to love her? The only thing that gets me through those crazy hospital shifts is knowing that when summer comes, I get to come back to this room. Sitting on this floor with you."
Ryo stared at him, his chest heaving, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"In Cantonese," Sakuya whispered, his voice dropping into a reverent tone, "we have a word for the person who knows your heart. We call them 知己. It means the one who truly knows your soul. Someone you do not have to hide from."
Ryo swallowed hard and his breath was catching. "知己."
"Yeah," Sakuya murmured, resting his forehead lightly against Ryo's. "And when we talk about love, real love, we say 我愛你啊, Ryo-kun. I love you. You are my 知己. You have been since the day I walked into that lecture hall and saw you sitting all by yourself."
A broken gasp escaped Ryo's lips and tears poured over his lashes. Looking into Sakuya's dark eyes in the faint green glow of the ceiling stars, he saw no pity, only a raw, desperate sincerity.
"I know what it means," Ryo choked out, his voice cracking. "I learned Cantonese after graduation. I spent four years studying textbooks late at night after work so I could understand what you muttered in your sleep."
Sakuya went completely rigid, his dark eyes widening in utter disbelief. "You learned Cantonese for me?"
"I wanted to understand your world," Ryo confessed, reaching up to cover Sakuya's hands on his cheeks. "我都愛你, Sakuya-kun. I love you too. I have loved you since university. I was just terrified that if I said it, you would leave and I would be all alone again."
Sakuya let out a breathless, wet laugh, then didn't say another word.
Sakuya leaned down slowly, closing the small distance between them, and pressed his mouth to Ryo's.
The kiss was unhurried and gentle, then it became deeper. It carried no rush or desperation, tasting of salt tears and warm night air.
Sakuya's thumb stroked Ryo's cheekbone, holding him with a steady, grounding tenderness as their mouths moved together in the quiet room. All the lingering fears, the years of high school trauma, and the heavy guilt of the past years melted away into the soft green glow above them.
When Sakuya finally pulled back slightly, lingering just inches away, both of them were breathing softly, their foreheads resting together.
Sakuya wrapped his long arms tightly around Ryo's shoulders, pulling Ryo's chest flush against his own and burying his face in Ryo's neck. Ryo clung to him just as hard, burying his face into Sakuya's shoulder, weeping softly as the warmth of Sakuya's chest anchored him to the Earth.
"You are not alone," Sakuya whispered into Ryo's curls, his hands rubbing broad, grounding circles across Ryo's back. "You are never going to be alone again. I promise."
They stayed tangled together on the floor mat for hours, talking softly under the faint green light of the glow-in-the-dark stars until the sky outside the balcony began to turn pale blue. Sakuya promised to tell his mother everything as soon as he returned to Guangzhou.
When Sakuya sat beside his mother's hospital bed at the center that autumn, holding her hand, he kept his promise, he told her about the quiet, freckled boy from Tokyo University who had secretly spent years studying Cantonese just to understand his sleep, the boy who had loved him in silence while waiting across the sea.
Hua Lian listened while tears glistened in her sharp eyes. She squeezed her son's hand and offered a warm gentle smile.
"Bring him to Guangdong when I am better," his mother had said softly in Cantonese. "A boy who learns our language just to love my son is already family."
Two years later, Hua Lian's cancer went into full remission, and Sakuya completed his residency. He packed his bags, finalized his transfer, and bought a one-way ticket back to Tokyo.
On a bright autumn afternoon, Ryo stood waiting at the arrivals terminal. When Sakuya walked through the sliding glass doors, wearing a dark coat over his natural dark hair, looking relaxed, gentle, and utterly happy, Ryo did not hesitate. He stepped forward and threw his arms around Sakuya's neck.
Sakuya caught him effortlessly, lifting Ryo slightly off his feet and spinning him around before setting him down and kissing him deeply right there in the middle of the crowded terminal.
"I am home, Ryo-kun, finally," Sakuya whispered against his lips, his dark eyes shining with joy.
Ryo smiled, taking Sakuya's hand and lacing their fingers together, knowing with complete certainty that they would never have to be alone again.
"Welcome home, Sakuya-kun!"
Did he ever bring Ryo home to Guangdong to finally meet his mom? Yes, he absolutely did. But that's Sakuya's story to tell.