Twice, Hirosue turned down invitations from Matsuoka by lying and saying he’d caught a cold. They’d been talking about watching a movie over the weekend, but he pushed that back to the following week as well, using the cold as an excuse.

It wasn’t as if he had anything special to do instead; after turning down Matsuoka’s invitations, he merely sat absently at home or watched TV.

On the day he received the news of his layoff, Hirosue had been too devastated to eat anything. The following day at work, he couldn’t concentrate and kept making careless mistakes, but the head clerk did not reprimand him.

“Well, be careful next time,” the head clerk only said, even though Hirosue’s mistake would usually have warranted a summons to his desk and a public yelling. Hirosue wondered if the head clerk was only pitying him because he was getting laid off, and it made him feel even more wretched.

Once he gave it a week or so to let the news sink in, Hirosue gradually found himself coming to terms with his feelings. While he acknowledged that he was incapable, he began to realize that he also had to do something about it. Once he lost his job, as an obvious consequence, his income would plummet to zero. No doubt the head clerk had let him know of HR’s decision early so that he could start looking for his next job soon. Hirosue tried to think positively as he began the search for his next job.

On Sat.u.r.day afternoon, Hirosue sat before his CV and an employment listings magazine, folded his arms, and thought hard. He was bad at thinking on his feet, and not skilled at conversation, so he probably wasn’t suitable for a sales job. He preferred an administrative job, and something that didn’t involve interacting with others. He found a few places that matched his criteria, but the salary was considerably less than what he was getting now. That couldn’t be helped, so he resigned himself to it and started writing out his CV when he realized something. For the entire decade and some of his working life, he had worked solely in administration. He had no other qualifications to speak of. He had nothing by which to promote himself.

Should he return to school? Or take correspondence courses? He couldn’t hope to do any of it on time when he had to start looking for a job immediately. First things first, he decided to finish writing his CV. He looked at the example while he let his pen glide along the page, then made a mistake. He used a correction pen, but it didn’t look quite right. He felt like the person reading the CV would have a bad impression. Hirosue crumpled up the unfinished CV into a ball, tossed it into the trash can, and rolled over onto the tatami floor. Maybe I should just go back home to the country, he thought. He was a little weary of the city and its harsh work environment and demanding personal relationships.

Hirosue’s hometown was a fishing village in the Kansai region. His father had started up a factory for processed fish products, which Hirosue’s older brother and wife had succeeded. They now ran the business along with Hirosue’s parents, who were still working. Their profits were not large, but they generated enough income to comfortably provide for the family.

Since the factory didn’t need any more hands, Hirosue would only burden his family with another mouth to feed if he went back. He also knew well enough that the countryside yielded a severely limited choice of jobs compared to the city.

As Hirosue lay there, he started to get hungry. He hadn’t bothered to eat anything since morning. Hirosue threw on a down jacket over his sweatshirt and sweatpants and left his apartment. He went to the bookstore and was walking around with a new employment magazine in hand when he spotted a book he had been intending to read a few years ago. It was now out on paperback and piled with the front covers showing. He took that as well and headed to the cash register.

He thought about going for a walk to refresh his mind, but when he saw a dusting of snow starting to come down, he decided not to. He had been noticing the signs of coming snow; the sky was grey and the air had been cold for quite a while.

After buying new CV templates and a bento at the convenience store, Hirosue made his way straight home. Just when he was around the corner from his apartment, his cell phone rang in his pocket. It wasn’t an e-mail notification―it was a call. From Matsuoka.

“Yes, Hirosue speaking.”

“Oh, hey, this is Matsuoka. Where are you right now?”

Hirosue looked around. “Near my apartment. Why?”

“I had an errand to run in this area, and I thought I’d drop by your place, but you weren’t home. You said you were sick, so I was wondering what happened to you.”

“I went to the convenience store.”

“Oh, okay,” Matsuoka murmured, sounding caught off-guard. “You gonna be home soon?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I stop by your place for a bit? I’m still in front of your door.”

Hirosue didn’t have the heart to send back a man who had come all the way here. But to be honest, he did not want to see Matsuoka just yet. He didn’t think he’d be able to truly enjoy Matsuoka’s company. If the man worked at a different company, Hirosue would perhaps be more inclined to vent and get Matsuoka to sympathize. But since they worked at the same company, Matsuoka also knew how their system worked. If he told Matsuoka he was getting laid off, Matsuoka would instantly know that it was because he was incompetent.

Hirosue wasn’t going to flatter himself and think that Matsuoka had a high opinion of his job performance, but he even so, he didn’t want the man to think he was so useless that he was already getting laid off at this age. He knew Matsuoka would find out anyway through the HR bulletin on March 25, but he could not help it.

“I’m still kind of sick. I don’t want you to catch my cold,” Hirosue answered.

“Oh, I won’t stay long. I just have some things to give you.”

It looked like he would have to see Matsuoka after all. Hirosue ambled into a walk again with leaden feet. He didn’t want to see Matsuoka, but he had to. He already felt guilty about cancelling their plans with a lie, and he hadn’t been able to refuse.

He could see his apartment now. A figure shifted in front of his apartment door. It was Matsuoka. When the man spotted him, he waved enthusiastically. Barred from ignoring him now, Hirosue reluctantly gave a small wave back.

“Long time no see―well, in a week and a bit, I guess.” Matsuoka hunched his shoulders. He was wearing jeans and a khaki-coloured coat. He looked good in gla.s.ses, and his rugged ring wasn’t pretentious at all. Even in Hirosue’s view as a fellow man, Matsuoka was good-looking enough to make one jealous. Matsuoka was the total opposite of him, with his careless outfit consisting of sweats and a down jacket. Looking at Matsuoka made him feel like they were different somewhere on a foundational level.

“I’m sorry for… cancelling our plans so many times.”

“You were sick, weren’t you? Don’t worry about it.” ‘Kay? The man grinned at him, causing an uncomfortable p.r.i.c.k in Hirosue’s conscience.

“So, what did you go out to buy?” Matsuoka asked, leaning into peer at what he was holding. Hirosue unwittingly hid the bag of books behind him, though he knew the employment magazine wasn’t visible through the paper bag separating it from the rest of his things.

“A bento and some books. ―I was a little bored,” he added in an excuse.

“I brought you some stuff, too, but it’s all food. Maybe I should have brought books and DVDs instead.”

A plastic bag was offered to him.

“Oh, no,” Hirosue stammered, “you didn’t have to go out of your way to…”

“It’s not much to feel bad about, really, so take it,” Matsuoka insisted. “It’s too heavy to carry back home, anyway.”

Hirosue could see the red of apples and the orange of tangerines in the plastic bag that had been thrust towards him. Even though he had lied to Matsuoka, the man had come out of concern to see how he was doing. The guilt was enough to make him want to crawl into a hole.

“I don’t want to keep you, so I’ll be on my way,” Matsuoka said. “I’ll e-mail you later. Let’s go for drinks once your cold gets better.”

Without even a single selfish request, the man turned his back and made to go home. Hirosue found himself blurting out before he knew it.

“Um―”

Matsuoka turned around just before the stairs.

“Um… my cold is actually getting better.”

Matsuoka tilted his head curiously. “Good for you,” he said.

“Since you’ve come all this way, why don’t you stop by for some tea? Just excuse my mess.”

Matsuoka’s face visibly lit up. “Really?”

“Um. Yeah.”

Matsuoka hurried back to his side. Hirosue unlocked the door and ushered Matsuoka in before him. As the man’s body slipped past his, he could catch a whiff of cigarettes.

“Matsuoka, are you a smoker?”

“Oh, would you rather I didn’t smoke?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve just never seen you smoke, that’s all.”

“I do it once in a while. Today, I had nothing to do while I was waiting for you, so… oh, but I didn’t drop ashes on your doorstep or anything. I carry around a portable ashtray.”

Hirosue smiled. “I wasn’t worried about that.”

“Oh. You must have quite a bit of faith in me, then?”

“Well, I just know you’re not the type to do that.”

“You’re giving me too much credit,” Matsuoka said wryly, though looking happy all the same as he stepped inside the apartment. He went down the narrow hallway into the far room and perched on the floor in front of the kotatsu. That sight of him was the same as when he used to crossdress. Hirosue offered a cup of coffee to the man who had thoroughly frozen himself outside.

“Thanks,” Matsuoka said, wrapping both hands around the cup and bringing it to his lips. “Say, it’s been a while since I came to your place, Hirosue.” Matsuoka blew on on his coffee to cool it as he spoke.

“Really? Last time―” The last time had been Christmas, when Matsuoka had kissed him and Hirosue had shoved him away. The moment he realized it, Hirouse closed his mouth. They never touched this topic, as if they were under an unspoken oath. Matsuoka was the one to break the unnatural silence.

“You know, when I heard you had a cold, I was imagining you moaning and groaning in bed. But if you were well enough to be at work yesterday, it’s probably not that bad, right?”

“Oh. Yeah. It was getting better, but I just took the day off today to be safe.”

The remorse of lying made his throat dry as he spoke. He hated people who lied without hesitation, but here he was lying, too, when things were inconvenient for him. Seeing Matsuoka believe him without a smidgeon of doubt made him feel even more uncomfortable.

“I know what you mean. Long colds can be physically taxing. Oh, what book did you buy?”

Hirosue’s throat made a gulping sound.

“Oh… um, it’s a paperback. By Hisako Ando.”

“Uh-huh. Is it interesting?”

Hirosue took just the paperback out and pushed the bag with the employment magazine to a corner of the room. He pa.s.sed it to Matsuoka, who read the synopsis on the back.

“So these are the kinds of books you like, huh,” he murmured. “I don’t really read novels. I do have an interest in them, but there are so many books out there, I don’t know where to start. Tell me if you know any that are interesting.”

“Um. Sure.”

Matsuoka flopped on his stomach in the kotatsu and flipped through the paperback. As his eyes skimmed the first page, they began to blink more and more frequently. Finally, Hirosue heard a soft fwump of the book closing, followed by a long, quiet inhale. No way, he thought as he peered into Matsuoka’s face. The man was, in fact, fast asleep.

Hirosue had heard of certain people who were so bad with books that a few lines were enough to overcome them with an uncontrollable sleepiness. Maybe Matsuoka was one of those people, though it was broad daylight now and not nighttime.

Hirosue stared intently at Matsuoka’s sleeping face. Sprinkled over the chin of his small face was the stubble that had jolted Hirosue back to reality. In the old days, facial hair meant a generous tuft below the nose and on the chin, and depending on the person it would look unpleasant and unclean. But nowadays, it was different. Matsuoka’s stubble was thin enough to maintain an impression of crisp cleanliness, and was clipped in a neat shape. It looked good on him, and Hirosue admitted he looked handsome. But there was no s.e.xual attraction in that, and it did not arouse him in that sense.

At times, he felt guilty for feeling that way, but upon further thought, he realized that that was normal. A vast majority of men in the world did not feel s.e.xually aroused by other men.

The distant sound of an ambulance siren outside caused Matsuoka’s drooping eyebrow to twitch. Come to think of it, Matsuoka’s eyebrows were also nicely shaped. After grimacing at the loud noise and shaking his head from side to side, Matsuoka’s tightly closed eyelids slowly opened. He s.n.a.t.c.hed off his gla.s.ses in annoyance and rubbed his eyes vigorously. Even when their eyes met, Matsuoka only stared absently at him, his slack mouth hanging half-open.

“…Sorry. I was sleeping, wasn’t I?”

“Only for about five minutes.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Hirosue laughed. Matsuoka scratched his short hair.

“I’ve had to wine and dine clients until late on weekends, so I haven’t been getting much sleep.”

Even a harmless phrase like “wine and dine” felt like a thorn in his chest. Hirosue wasn’t sure about what went on in the sales department, since it was out of his field, but he’d heard that Matsuoka was good at his work. Hayama, his former girlfriend, had said so. Even around Hirosue, Matsuoka was full of vibrant energy, wasn’t afraid to speak up when he ought to, and was considerate towards others. Such an able man like Matsuoka was probably never on the receiving end of a layoff. Irritated by the self-pity slowly taking over his thoughts, Hirosue stopped thinking altogether.

“Go to sleep if you’re tired,” he told Matsuoka. “There’s not much to do, anyway.”

However, Matsuoka did not nap any longer. He stayed for about half an hour to chat, then left to go home. Although Hirosue had originally not wanted to see Matsuoka, he felt refreshed once he had actually talked to him. He was also happy that Matsuoka had come to see how he was doing after hearing he was unwell.

Hirosue took out the employment magazine from the paper bag which he had pushed away. It was no use troubling himself about the little things. He had no one else to blame but himself for his layoff, and being envious or resentful of people was not the way to go about coping with it.

Hirosue slowly turned the pages of the magazine, comparing the age requirements and salary sections.

Hirosue received an e-mail with a photo, saying that his older brother’s baby was born. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the flushed, monkey-like baby. It was wrinkly and cute. This was his brother’s third child and long-awaited girl.

At the end of the e-mail, his brother had written, ‘Have you gotten a new girlfriend yet?’. Hirosue replied with a congratulations, but he couldn’t answer the part concerning the girlfriend. Last year, he had told his brother that he was seriously thinking about marriage with a person in his life. When Hirosue had gone home for new years, the whole family had gathered for the meal when his father had broached the topic.

“So, where’s that girlfriend you said you wanted to marry?”

“We didn’t work out,” Hirosue had answered. There was no way he could say that his girlfriend had in fact been a man, much less that he and this man were still carrying on a rather strange sort of relationship that was neither friendship nor romance.

That week, Hirosue received no invitation to go out, since Matsuoka was on a business trip out of town. Hirosue went to a department store and bought a celebratory gift for his brother’s baby. He went along with the sales a.s.sociate’s suggestions and bought a ready-made gift set of clothes and arranged to have it shipped. It wasn’t much, but that alone was enough to make him tired. He sank down on a chair near the elevators. He didn’t come to department stores often, and to be honest, he quite disliked them. They made him feel restless, like he didn’t belong.

Maybe I’ll have lunch at the set-meal place near the apartment, Hirosue was thinking absently, when someone called him from behind.

“Hirosue?”

He turned around to see Hayama standing there. Hayama was the same age as Matsuoka, and was a clerk for the sales department at headquarters. Last year, she had come to Hirosue’s workplace at Koishikawa Laboratory for a few months to help out. That was when they got to know each other, and they had dated for a short time.

Hayama had gotten very beautiful while he had not seen her. He had already thought she was cute when they were dating, but it seemed as if she’d refined her look even more than before.

“Oh―long time no see.”

He had been the one to break off their relationship because of everything that was happening with Matsuoka. After that, he had not contacted her again. Since their workplaces were far apart, they also never ran into each other.

When they broke up, Hayama had been crying. Perhaps because of that, Hirosue’s strongest impression of her was her mournful expression. But Hayama now looked so renewed and unenc.u.mbered that it was enough to wash Hirosue’s guilt and lingering hurt cleanly away.

“It must be… four months since I’ve seen you? Are you shopping, too?” Hayama asked.

“I came to buy a baby shower present for my brother.”

“Congratulations,” said Hayama, inclining her head slightly.

“I should be congratulating you. You’re getting married, right?”

Hayama put a hand to her mouth and widened her eyes in surprise. “How do you know about that?”

“I heard from Matsuoka.”

A middle-aged woman pa.s.sed behind Hayama, holding paper bags in both hands. She b.u.mped her bulging bags against Hayam’s legs as she wedged herself by.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said the woman, but her body language and att.i.tude clearly said she thought it was Hayama’s fault for standing in the middle of the pa.s.sage.

“Oh, want to have a seat?” Hirosue said, offering Hayama the seat across from him.

“I guess I should, since I’m apparently in the way,” Hayama said wryly, and sat down.

“Hirosue, I didn’t know you and Matsuoka were close.”

“Um, well… we eat out together once in a while.” He couldn’t say that they saw each other several times a week.

“I’ve never heard anything from Matsuoka about you two seeing each other. Oh. Maybe he didn’t mention it because he felt bad for me,” she murmured, then looked at Hirosue. “I met my fiancé through a marriage interview. I was never too enthusiastic about arranged marriages, but when I actually met him, he turned out to be really nice. After that, everything just fell into place. We’ll be having the ceremony in July.”

Hirosue felt like he could feel the happiness wafting over from Hayama as she smiled.

“What about you, Hirosue?”

“What about what?”

“Were you able to get back together with the girl you like?”

Hirosue smiled vaguely. “I’m not really sure if I can call it getting back together.”

The Yoko Eto he had loved was never going to come back. Matsuoka was supposed to be the same as her on the inside, and though he had been able to acknowledge him as an important friend, Hirosue was still far from feeling anything romantic towards him.

“Is she being ambiguous?” Hayama asked.

Matsuoka’s feelings were clearly romantic. But his own feelings were those of friendship, and he was in this fix because he wasn’t able to say so. He didn’t want to lose Matsuoka as a friend.

Hayama apparently took his silence for a yes. “I hope your feelings get across to her soon,” she said sympathetically. “Speaking of which, how’s work? You still have one unfilled vacancy, right? I’m sure you guys must be busy.”

Just the topic of work was enough to dredge up his layoff in the back of his mind, and dark clouds instantly gathered over his heart. Hayama had no idea what a humiliating situation he was in.

“It’s the same old,” Hirosue said nonchalantly. “You?”

Hayama gave a short sigh. “Nothing new here, either. I’ve actually decided to quit at the end of March.”

Hirosue had already heard from Matsuoka about her resignation, so he wasn’t surprised.

“Maybe that’s why,” Hayama wondered aloud. “I feel a lot less pressure on the job compared to before. I don’t get as irritated as I used to, and I can see everything in a better light.”

Hayama lightly brushed up a strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek.

“You know there are a lot of people leaving the company at the end of the fiscal year, right?” she said. “The official announcement’s on March 25, but the unofficial announcement is already out, so they have to redistribute the work of the people who are quitting. People who are actually on the scene seem to be having a hard time, especially Matsuoka.”

“…What about Matsuoka?”

Hayama leaned forward a little and lowered her voice.

“The official announcement hasn’t been made yet, so don’t tell anyone,” she warned. “Apparently Matsuoka’s going to be promoted to section manager of the sales department in the spring HR transfer. Since he’ll have a lot more paperwork to do, he’ll have to distribute the footwork to other people. But the people left behind already have to shoulder the work for the bunch of senior workers getting cut, see? So Matsuoka seemed to be pretty stuck about what to do.”

“…What?” Hirosue asked in disbelief. “But Matsuoka’s not even thirty yet, is he?”

Although it wasn’t official, there was a sort of unspoken rule in their company that section managers had to be thirty or older. A worker in his twenties, no matter how competent, would never get further than supervisor.

“He’s turning thirty in two days,” Hayama said. “A Matsuoka fangirl in Sales told me. His sales performance is outstanding and his seniors like him a lot. It might be a little early for him to get promoted, but I don’t think anyone will complain.”

Hirosue balled his hands into fists in his lap. He knew Matsuoka was a capable man, but it was hard to have the fact flaunted in front of his face in a form as tangible as a promotion.

“Wow… that’s amazing,” he said for the sake of conversation while his heart turned black.

“Good at his work, good-looking, great personality―I think he’s a little too perfect, don’t you? He says it gets stressful, but he’s not the type to show it.”

They continued to make some small talk until they eventually parted.

“I hope things go well with you and the girl you like,” Hayama said. Hirosue knew she had said those words from the bottom of her heart, but he still couldn’t give her an answer. Hayama’s face was glowing with happiness as she said she was going to meet her fiance, and her steps were light when they parted. Hirosue watched her retreating back, feeling downtrodden as though he had been the one that was abandoned, even though he had broken up with her.

He let his imagination wander aimlessly on the train ride home. If they hadn’t broken up, would he have gotten married to Hayama? Perhaps it really would have happened if he hadn’t run into Matsuoka again. He sniffed derisively in self-contempt as he stared at the ground. It was a good thing that Hayama’s relationship with him had ended. She had done the right thing by not staying with a man who couldn’t even keep up a living.

Only when he drew up in front of his apartment building did Hirosue realize that he hadn’t eaten lunch. It was already two in the afternoon. Feeling too lethargic to go out or buy something to eat, he entered his apartment on an empty stomach. He looked around, wondering if he still had any tangerines left, and the first thing that came into his vision was the employment magazine lying on top of the kotatsu.

Hirosue swept the magazine off the table, stuck his feet inside the kotatsu, and rolled over onto his back. The capable man was being promoted to section manager, while the incompetent one was being laid off. He could not even bring himself to laugh at the perfectly logical, yet ironic, contrast.

As he stared vacantly at the ceiling, a ringtone sounded in his room, signalling an incoming message. It was from Matsuoka. Hirosue turned off his cell phone without opening the e-mail.

When he finally did look at it, it was past eleven at night. Although he had ignored it, its existence had persisted in his mind.

‘Would you like to go out for dinner the day after tomorrow?’ It was the same kind of invitation e-mail he always received from Matsuoka. He’s turning thirty in two days. He remembered Hayama’s words. Matsuoka had celebrated Hirosue’s birthday, but refused to tell his own. Yet here he was, still inviting Hirosue out for dinner. Was there some meaning behind it? Was Matsuoka fine with Hirosue not celebrating his birthday, as long as he could spend time with him? Or was Hirosue thinking too much, and was Matsuoka simply trying to arrange dinner plans?

A number of people had complimented the watch he had gotten from Matsuoka for Christmas last year. It was the first time he’d been complimented for his belongings. Matsuoka had good taste.

Hirosue thought for a good while―about the unwavering fact that Matsuoka had celebrated his birthday; the fact that he had coincidentally come to know Matsuoka’s birthday; and finally, his own honest feelings.

He needed to thank Matsuoka somehow. He felt guilty to be the only one to have a good time, but he didn’t want to see Matsuoka in the state he was in, riddled with inferiority. Just hearing about it had been enough to put him in this state; there was no knowing how far his self-loathing would go if he saw Matsuoka face-to-face. It wasn’t Matsuoka’s fault. Matsuoka had done nothing wrong. It was his own problem and nothing else.

‘When are you free this week?’

‘I’m sorry. I’m busy this week,’ he wrote back, even though he wasn’t.

‘Let’s do something the week after, then. You seem pretty busy, but be careful not to overwork yourself,’ came Matsuoka’s reply.

He would probably not get any more e-mails for the rest of the day. Hirosue put his cell phone out of reach and closed his eyes. He felt ill with inferiority and guilt. Even while being buffeted by waves of self-loathing, Hirosue still did not want to see Matsuoka.

On the day of Matsuoka’s birthday, Hirosue was still at a loss. ‘Should I see him today?’ he wondered, ‘But then again,’ he stalled. Since the man had feelings for him, he would probably be happy to see Hirosue on his birthday. But Hirosue himself did not want to. But still, Matsuoka had celebrated his birthday. He continued to go around in circles, and before long, he had finished his day’s work.

Hirosue got home at six in the evening. He stood up and sat down over and over in his apartment, his restlessness showing no signs of subsiding. It would be rude to see Matsuoka or celebrate his birthday as if it were a ch.o.r.e, he gave as a legitimate-sounding reason, but he could still not convince himself. He knew he was just making convenient excuses.

Here he was, getting presents and having a good time while rejecting Matsuoka’s tiny wish to have dinner with him, out of a completely personal reason that didn’t even concern Matsuoka himself, at that.

At half past eight, Hirosue put on his coat and burst out of his apartment. He knew he would only feel miserable and sullen if he met up with the man, but if he didn’t―he felt like he would regret it long into the future. I should have made plans with him in the first place if I was going to end up doing this, he thought, but it was too late for that now.

He took the train into the city, but all the department stores where he could have gotten last-minute presents were now closed. He checked his watch and it was past nine o’clock. It was no wonder the stores were closed. Feeling at a complete loss, Hirosue walked around the proximity of the department stores and found a street vendor selling silver accessories in front of a shuttered storefront. Accessories with dragons, eagles, and emblem designs were laid out closely on black cloth. Hirosue remembered Matsuoka wearing a ring of the same style.

He bent over to look. There were so many, he didn’t know which one to choose. After much debate, Hirosue bought a cell phone strap with a dragon charm. He didn’t know Matsuoka’s ring size, and as for necklaces, there were too many types to choose from. Now he was finished his shopping, at least, but the price was so low it was dubious if it would even qualify as a present. The only wrapping it had was a brown paper bag.

Hirosue put the gift―which was a gift in form only―into his pocket, then headed to a cake shop next. He knew there was one in the shopping district that was open late, and he bought a small cake there. He had them write ‘Happy Birthday’ on it. Now he had managed to get the semblance of a celebration together, but having bought the things, he now began to feel uncertain about whether Matsuoka would be happy to get such a cheap-looking present and cake.

Matsuoka didn’t eat things like cake when they were together. He had no idea whether Matsuoka even liked sweet things or not. I should have at least asked him beforehand what he likes to eat, or what things he likes in general. His lack of planning skill knew no bounds. Hirosue detested himself for it.

He wrapped up his regretful shopping trip and reached Matsuoka’s apartment past ten at night. He didn’t call the man beforehand to say he was coming. If he did, he felt like he would falsely inflate Matsuoka’s expectations.

He rang the intercom of Matsuoka’s apartment, feeling like he was fulfilling a quota. There was no answer.

“Huh?”

He pressed it again. He could hear the buzzer going off inside the apartment, but he couldn’t sense anyone’s presence inside. Matsuoka probably wasn’t home. Perhaps he was still working.

He had figured Matsuoka was free in the evening, especially if he had time to invite Hirosue out. What time was he coming back? In an hour, two hours? Would he be able to see Matsuoka before the date changed?

As Hirosue wondered helplessly how long he would have to wait under the cold winter sky, he suddenly realized something. There was no need for him to stay here until Matsuoka came home. Wasn’t it good enough if he could get the celebratory gesture across to Matsuoka? If so, he would fulfil his wishes of not wanting to see him, while still showing Matsuoka that he had full intent to celebrate his birthday. It seemed like the best answer.

Hirosue hung the cake on the doork.n.o.b. He wondered if he should put the present inside, too, but it didn’t seem very cla.s.sy for a full-grown adult to do that, and decided against it. He made to go home, but felt like Matsuoka would simply throw the cake away if he didn’t know who it was from. Hirosue had no paper or pen to leave a message. Faced with no other choice, he sent an e-mail.

‘I left a cake in front of your apartment. Please have it, if you like.’

After sending the e-mail, he turned on his heel. Right as he pushed the down b.u.t.ton on the elevator, his cell phone started ringing. It was the ringtone for an incoming call, not an e-mail. It was Matsuoka.

“Hirosue, where are you right now?” Matsuoka’s voice was more tense than he had ever heard it.

“Where? Well, it’s not really―”

The elevator door opened with a ding. There was no one inside.

“Wait, are you at my place?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Wait there. I’m coming home.”

He could hear noisy chatter on the other end of the cell phone. Was Matsuoka at anizakaya?

“Heeey, who’re you talkin’ to, Matsuokaaa?” he could hear a voice calling in the background.

“You don’t have to bother,” Hirosue said. “I’m going home, anyway.”

“Really, I’ll be home in five―ten minutes.” There was a blip as his voice died.

“Huh? Matsuoka?”

The line went dead. Hirosue sighed heavily and flipped his cell phone shut. Matsuoka had celebrated his birthday and given him a gift. He felt guilty for not doing anything in return for Matsuoka’s birthday. But that wasn’t the only reason he had come here today.

For reasons he could not pinpoint, he had somehow imagined Matsuoka spending his birthday all alone by himself. If Hirosue hadn’t come, he thought the man would spend a lonely night at home with no one to celebrate his birthday. When self-flattery went this far, it was sickening. Matsuoka turned out not to be so lonely as he had imagined, and he had friends who would celebrate with him on his birthday.

Hirosue wanted to go home. He was seized with an impulse to jump on the elevator right this moment, but he couldn’t because Matsuoka had told him not to go home. Hirosue hung his head and went back to stand in front of Matsuoka’s apartment, looking down past the handrails of the hallway at the road below. Men and women in office-worker garb occasionally walked past briskly.

About fifteen minutes after the line had gone dead, a taxi flashed its signals as it pulled to a stop at the sidewalk. A young office worker in a suit burst out of the car. It was too dark to see his face, but he felt like it was Matsuoka. The elevator sounded as it stopped. A figure tore out of the elevator car. It was Matsuoka, after all.

Matsuoka wheezed in front of Hirosue. You didn’t have to rush so much, Hirosue found himself thinking as he cast a rather cool glance at the man.

“I thought… you said you had… errands to do today.” Those were Matsuoka’s first words.

“―The work I was supposed to do was… um, I finished it early.” The lie to justify his circ.u.mstances stuck as it came off his tongue.

“Oh, okay. I didn’t think I would get to see you, so I’m really glad. If I knew you were coming, I should’ve just said no to those guys.”

“Who were you with?”

“Friends from university.”

“…You should have taken your time and stayed behind.” Hirosue really wished the man had done so. Matsuoka hunched his shoulders, oblivious to Hirosue’s slightly snide remark.

“It’s alright. Those guys just want an excuse to go drinking.”

Matsuoka took the bag hanging from his doork.n.o.b.

“Is this the cake? It’s huge.”

“It’s your birthday, right?”

Matsuoka spun around to face him.

“I ran into Ms. Hayama the other day. I heard from her that it was your birthday today.”

Matsuoka’s cheeks, slightly pink from running here, perhaps, turned beet-red as if they were set on fire.

“You treated me out to such a great meal for my birthday, so I’m sorry this is all I have for yours. I’ll have your present ready later.”

“You didn’t have to worry about giving anything back.” Matsuoka rubbed his flushed cheeks roughly with the back of his hand. His blush and sheepish grin was an expression Hirosue had never seen before. Matsuoka carefully stroked the box with the cake inside.

“I’m so touched. It feels like a waste to eat this cake.”

Seeing the man so overjoyed at a cheap cake made Hirosue feel even more awkward.

“They said it wouldn’t keep very long, so…”

“I guess so, huh. Oh, since you’ve come all the way here, why don’t you come in and have some tea?”

“But…”

“Just one cup. You must be cold since the wind is pretty strong here.”

Faced with more insistence than he had ever gotten from Matsuoka before, Hirosue agreed just to have one cup, and went inside. He wanted to go home, but it was Matsuoka’s birthday. He felt it would be rude to refuse too vehemently.

“I wasn’t expecting to have people over, so it’s kind of messy. Hope you don’t mind.” Magazines and newspapers were strewn across the floor in Matsuoka’s apartment, but it wasn’t as messy as he had made it seem. It was a two-room apartment with a living/dining room and a kitchen, almost too s.p.a.cious for a man who lived by himself. In the middle of the sprawling living room was a deep brown sofa set. All the furniture was co-ordinated in dark brown, and the walls were a gentle ivory hue. The carpet was dark green. The apartment almost looked like a model home with its perfectly co-ordinated neutral shades. The stylish interior went well with Matsuoka’s image, but Hirosue felt slightly unsettled in the apartment.

He awkwardly took a seat on the sofa, and felt the cushions gently envelope his bottom. It was comfortable.

“Can I open it right away?” Matsuoka put the boxed cake on the coffee table and turned to ask him with sparkling eyes. When Hirosue nodded in a.s.sent, Matsuoka took the cake gently out of the box.

“Whoa, it looks so good! Oh, and there’s a message on it, too.”

Matsuoka sat admiring the uncreative cake with red strawberries for a long while―several times longer than the amount of time Hirosue had spent to pick the cake. He smiled blissfully for the whole time.

“Since you’re here, Hirosue, have some of the cake with me,” he suggested.

“But I got it for you.”

“These things taste better when you share them with people.”

Hirosue could not refuse him after that.

“Oh, I had something good, actually,” Matsuoka murmured, and disappeared into the kitchen. He emerged again with a bottle of wine and wine gla.s.ses in hand.

They gave a toast over neat slices of cake and wine. Hirosue mostly drank beer, or sake,if he felt like it. He hardly ever drank wine, and the only difference he knew between white and red wines were their colours. Once, he had been treated to expensive wine when his boss had taken him out for drinks, but because he ended up finding out the price beforehand, he was too intimidated to pay attention to the taste.

“It was a gift, so it’s probably not that expensive,” Matsuoka had said, but the wine was smooth on the tongue, full-bodied, and delicious. He felt like it was cla.s.sier by far compared to the cake he had bought.

Matsuoka eagerly ate the cake that Hirosue had not put much thought into buying, and sipped his wine elegantly.

Hirosue also finished eating his portion of cake. Eventually, heat gathered in his body and spread outwards; perhaps the alcohol from the wine was getting around his system.I’ve done my job. I’ll go home. Hirosue gathered momentum to stand from the couch. His knees gave out weakly, and he ended up crumpling to his knees on the spot. Since he had been sitting, he hadn’t realized he had drunk too much. He felt dizzy even while squatting. He laid his head back on the couch. He was overcome with a falling sensation as he felt his consciousness begin to fade.

“―Hirosue.”

His shoulder was shaken, disturbing his comfortable slumber. Hirosue opened his eyes a crack with a disgruntled face.

“It’s almost time for the last train. Are you going to stay the night or go home?”

“…I’ll go home.” Hirosue got up, scrubbing his eyes. He could barely take three steps before his unsteady feet gave out and he sank to the floor.

He couldn’t be bothered to walk or to go home. Hirosue curled up on the floor like a cat. A set of fingers carefully and gently ran along his shoulder.

“You should stay the night.”

“No… I’m going home.” He staunchly insisted on going home while not even trying to get off the floor. In his shaky line of vision, he could see Matsuoka’s troubled face. But even that grew blurry as Hirosue was drawn back into the depths of sleep.