50 Notes To Say I’m Sorry, 1/3
Title: 50 Notes To Say I’m Sorry
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Matsumoto Jun/Aiba Masaki
Summary: Theirs was not the most thrilling saga, but to Jun, Aiba was the “guy that got away.” And then the “guy that got away again.” And then ”the guy that got away again…again.” But perhaps this time will be different…
Notes/Warnings: This story is set at a convention center in Osaka that is not exactly INTEX Osaka, but is somewhat inspired by its general location. And many thanks to the websites of the various boring industry conventions I visited while writing this story, especially the ones where I borrowed/paraphrased some of their *riveting* descriptions.
They were stuck at the far end of the expo hall, as far from the exits as possible because Jun assumed that was standard operating procedure for government booths. Government participants were only charged half the standard exhibit rate for a booth, so the organizers liked to retaliate by keeping them far away from most of the convention traffic.
Not that Jun minded much. Matsumoto Jun relished any opportunity to get out of town, away from the sad state of their offices in Tokyo. Their floor was being repainted this weekend, from the current shade of beige to another shade of beige. The Japanese government had likely purchased said beige in bulk because painting offices green or blue or anything but beige might give employees the impression that their work was supposed to be rewarding or enjoyable in some way.
Jun had been working for the Japan Transport Safety Board for two years now, having transferred from an even less interesting administrative position in the offices of the Government Pension Investment Fund. He didn’t get to do anything exciting like go to the scenes of train or ferry accidents to investigate what had gone wrong. Instead he sat at his desk every day entering statistics and working on promotional materials.
It was the promotional materials that had brought him to Osaka for an extended weekend. He’d been pretty sure that nothing was more uninteresting than a government office job, but the attendees of the 2016 Trucking, Logistics, and Supply Chain Forum in their unfashionable, poorly-fitted suits gave him cause for reflection. The JTSB booth was stuck at the far end of the hall next to a booth for a company Jun had never heard of, but the pens they were giving away said that they were “dedicated to driving supply chain resilience and value,” whatever that meant. That had to be worse, right?
There were no conference sessions or seminars tonight, Friday night, but the expo floor was opening in an hour, and the three of them would be running the booth tonight and would rotate booth shifts on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday for the remainder of the convention. Jun didn’t really think it was necessary for three people to run the stupid booth, but Sho had assumed that getting them away from the paint fumes for a few workdays had been their supervisor’s one and only kindness offered since thanks to budget cuts, nobody in their department was getting a raise this year.
Speaking of Sho, his colleague of two years, the man was still standing in front of the booth with his arms crossed, lower lip jutting out, frowning at the state of it. For some reason, he thought there was something “odd” with their booth, but he had yet to identify what was odd about it. Which had led to him standing like that for the last six and a half minutes.
Unlike Jun, Sakurai Sho had been destined for a bureaucrat’s life from birth. Sho was a very nice guy, always smart, always professional. Developing and writing brochures and pamphlets about safety regulations contented him quite easily. But Jun had a feeling that Sho would be transferring up to something more challenging sooner or later. He and his wife had a baby on the way now, and Papa Sho would need more money coming in to cover the cost of a growing family.
Jun and the other member of their team, Kanjiya Shihori, were both too single and too overworked to have time to punch up their CVs and find somewhere else to apply. Maybe they’d be more motivated if and when Sho left. Shihori was standing beside Sho, petite and charming and the self-designated “eye candy” of their JTSB booth. She was the graphic designer on their team, taking Sho and Jun’s pages and pages of boring stats and even more boring text and turning them into sensible publications.
She tapped one of the neighboring booth’s pens against her chin, staring up at Sho. “Sho-san,” she said in her usual teasing tone. “Everything is spelled correctly. The logo is centered perfectly on the banner. Jun-san has the pamphlets spread out very attractively. What are you looking for?”
Sho’s frown only deepened. “We don’t have any pens.”
Shihori nodded, tapping the pen she’d snatched against her chin again. “We don’t.”
Sho flailed his arms, his convention attendee lanyard swaying to and fro. Jun continued to sit back in his chair behind their table, bored out of his skull, trying not to grin at Sho’s distress. “This is our only in-person outreach event for the quarter, and we just look sad! Why don’t we have any pens?”
“Because customized pens cost money,” Shihori pointed out.
“All we have are the ‘Stay Alert, Stay Alive’ pamphlets,” Sho complained. “We’re as far from civilization as we can get. We have the worst location. The least amount of projected foot traffic. And we have no freebies.”
“That shipping conglomerate from Fukuoka had mouse pads,” Jun said, offering Sho a wink. “Mouse pads, Sho-san.”
Sho pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand how they can send us all the way to Osaka without any freebies.”
“Technically ‘Stay Alert, Stay Alive’ is the freebie,” Jun reminded him.
“And besides,” Shihori continued, “we’re the government. Since when do we give anything away for free?”
Sho moved forward, adjusting some of the pamphlets Jun had arranged with care, if only because it had killed some time. He couldn’t really wander off until the expo hall officially opened for the night. That was when they were supposed to be serving the welcome appetizers, and Jun’s stomach was rumbling in desperation already. They only received 2500 yen daily for meals during the convention, the rest coming from their own pockets. Those free appetizers were going to save his wallet tonight.
Sho stepped back, still looking annoyed by the sad state of their convention presence. “Human beings have one vital thing in common. Human beings thrive on free shit.”
“True,” Shihori said. Jun offered her a sly smile, knowing her convention attendee canvas bag had at least 20 free pens in it already even though the expo hadn’t started yet. His own bag had six pens and a fuzzy wristband from some delivery service even though he wasn’t a wristband kind of guy.
“Shihori-chan and I could go booth to booth, steal pens and other convention swag and pretend they’re our freebies,” Jun joked.
“No stealing,” Sho chided them. “We’re government representatives!”
“I think Yamato Trucking and Shipping was giving out candy with their service catalogs. They didn’t put company logos on them,” Shihori said. “Nobody would be the wiser!”
“I could leave the convention center and go down to Dotonbori or a subway stop, see if they’ve got any cute girls handing out tissues,” Jun added.
Sho rolled his eyes. “I’ll buy candy tomorrow so we don’t look so pathetic the entire expo.”
Jun didn’t care one way or another, so he simply nodded in agreement. He was away from home with time off work. The convention booth was simply a few hours’ obligation each day, and the rest of the time he’d use to wander off, take in the sights, relax.
Maybe even find someone for a night, if only because he kept striking out in Tokyo, and he was getting really lonely. Working long hours and coming home to his empty apartment, his solitary bonsai on his balcony being the only one that needed him.
A change of scenery could do him good, and he was in the perfect place to hunt around.
The International Expo Center Osaka was home to four different conventions that weekend, including the one Jun was currently attending. The hotel they were staying at was connected to the Expo Center and another convention was going on there. He’d be surrounded by people away from home for a few days, none of them looking for more than a little fun. Much as Jun longed for something a bit more permanent, he’d take a one night stand over the nothing he was currently experiencing back home.
Almost all of Jun’s friends at home were straight - nobody ever seemed to know any eligible men looking for a guy like Jun. And even worse, most of his friends were starting to settle down. His twenties, his carefree partying days, were behind him, and he was already three years into his thirties.
His friends wanted to have home parties now because they had kids to put to bed early. He’d played wing man for several of his friends the last few years. He could count three different married couples he’d personally helped get together. But now that it was seemingly Jun’s turn, his own support system had to get home to read bedtime stories instead. They couldn’t stay out late with him anymore. He was on his own to find “the one.” Sho had even tried to help him once, but his well-meaning recommendation had been one of his university professors, a guy who’d been old enough to be Jun’s father.
He’d always thought he was a good catch. He had a steady job, even if it was far from his first choice of career. He made decent money, enough to put some in savings for the future and enough to occasionally splurge on nice clothes. He took good care of himself, eating healthy, exercising regularly, staying well-groomed. He’d saved up money and fixed his crooked teeth once he had his government salary. He had a bit of a “strong” face, but he didn’t think he was ugly.
And still he kept striking out. “I’m not looking for a serious relationship.” “I don’t want my family and friends to know I’m gay.” “You’re too stoic.” “You’re too passionate.” “You’re too particular.” “I just don’t think this is going to work.”
Things had been especially dire lately, and his confidence was starting to waver. He’d already settled for a professional life that was dull but steady. He couldn’t afford to settle in his personal life too. Or even worse, to give up.
“Matsumoto-kun, what do you think?”
He blinked, realizing that he’d fallen into a stupid spiral of self-pity. Sho was looking at him expectantly, and Jun realized that he hadn’t been paying attention. He was still on the clock right now.
“Sorry, what?”
Sho was always so patient with him, whether he was editing work reports or getting lost in his thoughts. Sho was going to be a good dad. “I asked what type of candy I should buy. You know, to lure people in?”
“Chocolate. Something with chocolate.”
Shihori and Sho then went on to debate the various merits of different chocolate candies as well as the merits of using taxpayer money to buy candy to bribe conference-goers to take their safety pamphlets.
Jun just focused on counting down the seconds, putting him closer to free appetizer time. And closer to his pending efforts to get laid and prove he was more than just a government shill in a suit.
-
Keep On Trucking: Driver Retention Strategies
Saturday, 2:00 PM
Primrose Room B
Speaker: Takahashi Yosuke, COO Supply Chain Solutions, Kao Corporation
Driver shortages have been identified as one of the key problems facing the industry at large in the years to come. This session focuses on best practices for the recruitment and retention of drivers, highlighting everything you need to know in an ever-evolving world. From crafting the perfect job advert to developing competitive employee compensation packages, join Takahashi-san and learn how to keep your truckers happy.
-
The Byatt Regency was connected to the convention center by an insulated glass walkway that went up and over the street. With the numerous conventions in the convention center itself as well as the hotels that connected to it, there had to be a few thousand people spread throughout the cluster of buildings this weekend.
Heading back through the walkway, he passed dozens of people with convention badges hung around their necks and worn with a sense of real purpose and pride. Some were here for a fishing expo, others were in town for a dental convention. There were people for the logistics convention wearing the same blue-bordered badge Jun had around his neck. There were fruit farmers from Shikoku who seemed a bit lost in the fast-paced convention area. Nerdy types here for the electronics show.
He and Sho were meeting up for a free breakfast in the morning, coinciding with the opening session of the convention. Sho had stuffed himself with appetizer shrimp and departed for his room so he could FaceTime with his wife before getting some sleep. Shihori was meeting up for dinner and drinks with a college friend who lived halfway between Osaka and Kobe.
With the morning breakfast, he decided against heading out for the Osaka nightlife on his own. He instead chose to play it safe, taking off his lanyard and shoving it in the pocket of his slacks, loosening his tie as he headed for his hotel’s bar. He was full but not unpleasantly so from the various snacks in the expo hall, and a few drinks would help loosen him up.
The bar was fairly large, as the Byatt hosted conventions and convention guests year-round. But there was still a calm coziness to it, the lights dimmed and the dark walls lending it a sensual air. Jun supposed that the hotel’s interior design team knew exactly the type of clientele to cater to, the sort of people who lived by the motto of “what happens at the convention stays at the convention.”
Most of the booths and tables were occupied with groups of all sorts, most of whom kept their convention badges on. “Matsumoto Jun, Japan Transport Safety Board” wasn’t the greatest conversation starter. He didn’t really like starting off with the various stats he knew about commercial airline disasters or train derailments, so he chose to remain a mystery until specifically asked.
He had a seat at the far end of the bar, which afforded him a decent view of the left side of the room in case he felt like being brave and seeing if any of his good pick-up lines still worked. With a glass of whiskey to sip, he tried to be stealthy, sneaking peeks all around him. The bartender was well-trained to offer no judgment, merely offering Jun a second drink as soon as his first was done.
Tables erupted into laughter while others were deep into impressing each other, exchanging business cards and forging connections. The two women occupying the seats next to Jun eventually left, gossiping about some mutual friend of theirs who was hoping to hook up with one of the dentists wandering around.
Everywhere he peeked, no luck. Lots of wedding rings. And those without them were doing their best to impress the women they were sitting with. Jun would have to sit at the bar longer than he planned - perhaps his own prospects wouldn’t come around until most of the straight folks were already tipsy, wouldn’t be as inclined to stare.
He took out his phone to play games while he waited, grinning at the sight of fourteen LINE messages from Sho, every single one about the candy he planned to buy to stock the booth. It was a typical set of Sho messages, him rambling along and eventually coming to his own conclusion without requiring Jun to say anything but “sounds good” at the end. He did just that, sending a cute sticker expressing his approval. Sho replied in seconds with a “see you in the morning.”
He was just about to tap on a game when he heard an oddly familiar voice.
“Matsujun!”
He stiffened in surprise, nearly dropping his phone on the bar counter. The last time he’d heard that voice...
“Hey Matsujun, it is you!”
He swiveled a little in his seat just as another man slid into the empty one beside him. To Jun’s utter dismay, he was just as gorgeous as he’d always been. Tall and lean, friendly eyes, and that even friendlier smile. Tactile as always, too, Jun realized when the man reached out, patting him on the back and laughing.
“I’d recognize those eyebrows of yours anywhere,” Aiba Masaki teased, his rough voice warm and open.
Jun’s heart sank, but he held up his glass as though he was perfectly fine, returning Aiba’s smile. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Aiba was in a well-fitted gray suit that made his lanky limbs appear even longer. The guy had legs for days. He lifted his convention badge, the paper inside the plastic identifying him as “Aiba Masaki, Zic Camera, Tokyo.”
“I’m here for the Smart Home show,” Aiba explained before waving the bartender over and asking for one of the beers on tap. The HomeSmarts Show and Expo was the electronics convention. It was the biggest event currently ongoing at the convention center, and Jun kind of envied the people who got to wander around playing with gadgets all day.
“Nice,” Jun said.
“Right? Here’s me,” Aiba answered, digging around inside his suit jacket and unearthing a small stack of business cards. He held one out obliviously, and Jun took it, trying not to grimace as he did so. He immediately knew it was the exact same card Aiba had always had, identifying him as a buyer for Zic, an electronics retailer.
Jun weakly offered up a card of his own, trying not to frown as Aiba pocketed it without reading it, instead turning to smile at the bartender when his pint glass was set down on a Byatt Regency coaster before him. Jun watched Aiba’s Adam’s apple bob in his perfect, tanned throat as he gulped down a first ample sip.
He set his glass down with a satisfied smack of his lips before leaning over to squeeze Jun’s shoulder. Aiba had always been so touchy-feely. “Gosh, it’s so good to see you. It’s been ages!”
“Since the 10-year reunion,” Jun said pointedly, not the least bit surprised when Aiba showed no real sign of recognition.
“Ah, ah, right. With Nino,” Aiba said, nodding and finally letting go of him.
“Right. With Nino,” Jun mumbled.
-
S.O.S. - Save Our Soil
Saturday, 10:00 AM
Oak Room III
Speaker: Professor Amemiya Daiki, Faculty of Agriculture, Hokkaido University
This special session is sponsored by the Nippon Soil Health Conglomerate. Amemiya-sensei will cover the latest strategies in soil management, exploring what you need to know to ensure the health of your crops for years to come. Learn about solutions specific to the Shikoku region, backed by data from a five-year study of sudachi farms in Tokushima Prefecture.
-
Theirs was not the most thrilling saga, but to Jun, Aiba was the “guy that got away.” And then the “guy that got away again.”
And then ”the guy that got away again…again.”
Aiba Masaki had always been…well, airheaded was kind of a rude way to put it. He was just the sort of guy who was kind and handsome and perfect 24/7/365, but he sometimes suffered from the double whammy of selective memory loss and vanishing common sense. But fuck, he was so pretty.
Jun and Aiba had gone to the same high school. Aiba had been a year ahead, the admired captain of the basketball team and the recipient of the most Valentine’s chocolates in school history. Jun, almost half a foot shorter at the time and plagued with pimples, had attended every home game just to watch him play, even though he was thoroughly uninterested in basketball. It had been enough to listen to Aiba’s sneakers squeak across the court, to sneak a peek at the strangely alluring, dark birthmark on his shoulder that was only visible when he was wearing the team jersey.
Aiba had been best friends with Ninomiya Kazunari, a shy boy in Jun’s homeroom who tallied all the stats for the basketball team. They’d grown up together, and Aiba’s loyalty to Nino had never wavered even though they seemed to have very little in common, the shining jock and the math geek. No matter how popular Aiba became, he and Nino were inseparable.
When Aiba had found out that some other students were bullying Nino, he’d knocked out one of the bullies’ two front teeth and had happily accepted a week-long suspension in punishment. In spite of that (or in most cases, because of it) Aiba’s locker overflowed with love letters from his many admirers. Half loved him for his athleticism and shining smile, the other half loved him for his kind and devoted heart. Jun, it went without saying, had fallen for all of him.
It was the sharp-eyed Ninomiya who’d figured out why Jun was such a diligent basketball game attendee. “I can pass him a letter if you want,” Nino had offered in class one day just before the bell. “I get asked all the time.”
Jun had gone pale at the generous offer, managing only to nod at Ninomiya, who never spoke to non-Aiba people unless he really had to. That had to mean something! He spent weeks gathering his courage, seeing girl after girl sighing and complaining that Aiba was still single. That was what gave Jun the extra push he needed, convincing himself that Aiba was probably gay - just like him!
When he finally had a confession letter composed, the product of several sleepless nights and several inspiring masturbatory incidents, he’d caught Nino before class. “Um, does your offer still stand?”
Nino had looked at him and sighed. “Too late, sorry.”
The shock and surprise that swept the school that morning troubled Jun for years. When he’d lie in bed at night and wonder “what if I’d moved faster…” Because if he’d moved faster, maybe he wouldn’t have given up on attending that art university. Maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in a long series of boring government jobs.
Captain of the basketball team Aiba Masaki, a week away from graduating, was apparently dating a college guy, someone he’d met when playing basketball at the local community center near his house. And the worst part?
The guy’s name had been Matsuyama Jun.
Of all the bad luck…
So Aiba graduated in a blur of scandal and awe. Years passed. And then Jun found himself attending his five-year high school reunion. It was Ninomiya again who’d tried to help him. Before Jun had gone into the bar, Nino had been outside smoking. Apparently Aiba was attending in order to catch up with a kohai or two from the basketball team - he’d forced the indifferent Nino to go to the reunion just so he could party crash.
“Still got that letter?” Nino had asked him, raising an eyebrow and taking a drag of his cigarette.
It was Nino who arranged everything, managing to get Jun into a booth with him and Aiba. By then, Nino and Aiba were both working together at Zic Camera, inseparable even in their chosen careers. Aiba had handed over his business card proudly. Nino had made excuses to leave, anti-social as he’d ever been, and Jun had another chance. After talking and drinking together for three hours, Jun had been on the verge of success. Touchy-feely Aiba’s hand had been on and off of his thigh half the night.
Entering his twenties (and sinking money into intense dermatologist appointments) had emboldened Jun, giving him confidence and a reputation among friends as a bit of a playboy. He’d written the name of a nearby love hotel on a bar napkin, had tried to be coy and slipped it across the table. Aiba had instead said “oh, thanks!” and had proceeded to set his beer down on top of it, smearing the ink entirely.
Undeterred, Jun had grabbed another napkin, scribbled again. This time, he slipped it directly into Aiba’s hand. Aiba was in the middle of ordering a round of shots for his adoring masses, but as soon as the shots were down all his admirers’ gullets, he finally took a look at it. The expression on his face had been priceless.
“You got it, Matsujun!”
In hindsight, it would have been more logical to give Aiba his phone number, not just the name of a gay-friendly but still sleazy hotel and the room number he was planning to pick. But Aiba had seemed so interested in getting out of that bar for casual sex with him that logic had not kicked in.
And so Jun had said his goodbyes first, letting Aiba wrap up his various social calls with his fans. Jun had walked over to the hotel, gone to the simply-appointed room he’d written down, and prudently purchased some apple-scented lubricant from the vending machine to go along with the complimentary apple-scented condoms that had been tastefully arranged in a heart shape on the bedspread.
Three hours later, Jun realized Aiba wasn’t coming. And that the phone number on Aiba’s business card was wrong.
Without Aiba’s contact details (or Nino’s) and too prideful and unwilling to fall back into his stalkerish high school habits, Jun remained in the dark for the next five long years. Relationships came, relationships went, and still Jun always wondered.
Aiba pulled the same party crasher trick for the 10-year reunion. Because everyone had been out of high school for a full decade this time and because many classmates wanted to give off the impression that they were well on the road to upper middle class prosperity, the event was hosted at a mildly swanky hotel. Fate decreed that Ninomiya Kazunari would be outside smoking once again, but this time on purpose.
Nino called out to Jun before he went in, seeming rather sympathetic to his cause. He waited with a perfect poker face while Jun explained his side of the five year old story. Nino then filled in the blanks. The ever-forgetful Aiba had wiped up a spill with Jun’s napkin only minutes after he’d left, realizing all too late what he’d done.
But Aiba, kind and sweet and puppy-dumb as he’d always been, had felt super guilty. He’d called Nino to come all the way back to the bar that night, and they’d put the limp napkin under the blow dryer in the men’s room to try and read Jun’s handwriting. It was no use - they’d been able to decipher the room number, but not the name of the actual hotel.
This time there was no excuse, Nino had decided, handing over a room keycard that he’d paid for himself. “Go get him, tiger,” was the encouraging cheer Nino offered.
Jun endured a very lengthy evening with people he barely knew. At 28, Jun was far from interested in settling down, but that wasn’t the case with many of his former classmates. Several people were married, some had kids and all around were clusters of people gabbing about said kids without filtering it for the benefit of the non-parent crowd. My little so-and-so is a potty training work in progress - you won’t believe how much shit comes out of such a small butt! My little so-and-so was very sick this week, he just came into our bedroom and vomited right on the floor!
Jun didn’t dislike children, but everywhere he turned there was a story about a little one expelling something from one end of him or another, and he wanted to scream. It took Jun over an hour of useless mingling before realizing that Aiba wasn’t actually in the banquet room. He found him already upstairs in the room Nino had reserved, under the covers and snoring despite the NBA game blaring out of the TV.
Jun had approached the bed warily, gut churning from all the parent stories and from the realization that for the first time in his life he was in the same room alone with Aiba Masaki.
“Oh Matsujun! I worked until midnight last night, huge project at work! Guess I was really tired...” was the explanation Aiba provided when Jun poked him awake.
He said nothing about the embarrassing events at the last reunion, and Jun didn’t want to ruin the mood by reminding him. Aiba had then gotten out of bed in order to present Jun with his business card, reintroducing himself needlessly. And before they could really start with the small talk, Aiba had kissed him. Aiba had kissed him like it was the end of the world. Jun, over the moon in happiness, didn’t really mind.
And Jun, over the moon in happiness, didn’t check if Aiba had corrected the phone number on his business card.
While Aiba showered, Jun wrote his own phone number down on multiple pieces of paper from the little notepad in the room. He shoved a piece of paper in each of the pockets of Aiba’s jacket as well as the jeans he’d discarded halfway between the bed and the bathroom.
“Call me anytime. XO Jun,” was what he wrote on the notes along with a smily face.
Aiba’s body hadn’t been the same one Jun had admired in high school - he was still slim, but he’d become a solid and steady adult, his muscles clearly trained from regular workouts. And as Jun had long suspected from watching Aiba run around in his basketball shorts with laser focus, he was definitely packing.
In the heat of the moment, Jun thought the sex had been amazing. Aiba was as scatterbrained when it came to fucking as a person could be, but again, in the moment, it had been great. They’d started in the bathroom. Then they’d moved back to the room, Jun first getting fucked against the desk before finally settling in a chair by the window, Aiba sucking Jun’s neck, letting Jun ride him until they both came.
A bit exhausted from the vigorous activity, they’d both fallen into bed. Jun woke around 5:00 in the morning, neck covered in purple hickeys, only to discover that Aiba had already left. And that Aiba had left wearing Jun’s own jeans. An all-too-Aiba mistake. Jun was left with Aiba’s too-tight jeans he could barely zip, the pockets stuffed pathetically with his phone number.
Well, Jun had consoled himself, at least Aiba had taken the right jacket.
But then Aiba never called. And the phone number on the business card was still wrong. Sure there was social media, but despite working in a techie-type field, Aiba seemed to be absent from every network Jun checked.
All Jun had to prove it had even happened was the pair of jeans shoved in the back of his closet. Again, he thought the sex had been amazing. Perhaps Aiba hadn’t thought so. Perhaps Aiba…gentle, sweet, forgetful Aiba Masaki…had thought it was best to say nothing rather than tell him it had been a lousy experience. Maybe Jun had been too loud. Too quiet. Too needy. Or just a disappointing lay all around.
Or, Jun’s more sexually confident side told him, perhaps Aiba had simply taken his jacket to be dry cleaned or had tossed the thing right in the wash, once again losing Jun’s valuable message.
Either way, Jun had decided that his high school crush had come to its bitter end. He had the good sex memories for a lifetime. He ought to have been satisfied with that.
But now the universe had somehow conspired to bring Aiba Masaki back into his life. What the hell was he supposed to do now?
-
Pursuing Suck-cess In 2017: Industry Town Hall
Sunday, 9:00 AM
Cosmos 3A
Speaker: Hashimoto Teru, Product Development Manager, Nyson Japan
Join Nyson’s Hashimoto Teru for this interactive exploration of the trends and technologies that will change the shape of our market category in 2017 and beyond!
-
“So which convention are you here for?” Aiba asked politely, as though the last time they’d seen each other Jun hadn’t had Aiba’s dick in his mouth.
Jun, still a bit stunned, dug his lanyard and badge out of his pocket, letting Aiba take it.
“Japan Transport Safety Board,” Aiba read aloud, nodding. He looked up again, eyes friendly. “Safety’s important!”
“Yup.”
“What is the trucking and logistics thing about?”
“My colleagues and I have a booth in the expo center. We’ve got safety pamphlets to distribute. While we focus more on airlines and trains, highway safety’s part of it too.” Jun was going to fall asleep explaining it. “We’ve got some pamphlets about general driving safety. And then we’re promoting a program, a government partnership with a hotel chain where tired truck drivers can stay at a discounted rate so they don’t fall asleep at the wheel and kill somebody.”
“Sounds like a smart deal,” Aiba agreed. He was fiddling with Jun’s badge, twisting the lanyard between his long fingers. Perhaps he was actually remembering what they’d done the last time they’d been in a hotel together.
“Nah, it’s boring,” Jun admitted, “but the hotel rooms are pretty nice here.”
Aiba didn’t react, setting the lanyard down on the bar top and having another swig from his beer. “Nino and I are in the other hotel, the one on the other side of the expo center. The Cosmos Hotel and Suites.”
“Nino’s here?”
Aiba smiled fondly. “Yeah. There’s some porn shop he likes to go to in Nipponbashi, so he liked having an excuse to come to Osaka with someone else paying for it.”
“I see.”
“This hotel’s a little nicer,” Aiba said. “Our department’s gone through some budget cuts this year, so they put us up on the sad businessman floor. Single bed, the view out the window is of the convention center wall. At least the stuff at the show’s pretty cool.”
As far as Jun remembered from the multiple times Aiba had explained it to him before, he and Ninomiya were on a team that chose what types of gadgets and electronics would be sold in Zic Camera stores. Ninomiya was a nerd, so the job made a lot of sense for him. For Aiba though, Jun got the impression Aiba just liked the excitement that came from testing out new gadgets. The combined power of Ninomiya’s nerdiness and Aiba’s adventurousness and enthusiasm probably made them a good team.
Jun just let Aiba talk and talk. About the new smart home techie shit he was most looking forward to trying out. About the other nerds that he worked with back in Tokyo. About the work baseball team he captained, with Ninomiya as his star pitcher. About the work basketball team nobody else joined. About the restaurant his parents operated. About trying to teach his younger brother’s toddler bad words.
Jun finished his third glass of whiskey, body nearly quivering in rage. It was pretty obvious what was going on here. The sex they’d had together wasn’t just lousy - to Aiba, it wasn’t even worth remembering! Because what else could explain the way Aiba was chattering away without so much as a “you know, about last time, Matsujun…”
Jun had run into exes before, a few casual hook-ups before. There was always that look. The “yeah, I remember what your cock looks like” look. The “yeah, I remember what your face looks like when you come” look. Even if it wasn’t outright acknowledged out loud, at least there was always that look.
What the hell had Jun done wrong that night?!
He flagged down the bartender, pulling out his credit card so he could pay his tab. Aiba caught his shoulder. “Hey, why are you going?”
Jun waved him off, trying to look a bit less than murderous. “Sorry. There’s a breakfast session I’m attending with my colleague in the morning.”
“Oh, I see.” For the first time, Aiba looked a bit disappointed.
“Then I’m on and off at our booth all day. Important government business, you see.”
“Right. Of course. Definitely.”
He signed the receipt, shoving his own copy in his jacket pocket. He wondered if the government would still reimburse him if all he spent his daily 2500 yen on was booze. “Was good to see you, Aiba-san.”
Aiba seemed even more upset when he heard Jun address him so formally. Too little, too late. “Good to see you, too. Maybe I’ll stop here again, the bar I mean…tomorrow night and we could…”
“Bye now.”
He walked away in a huff, not allowing himself to look back. The elevator banks were fairly empty, and he jabbed the “Up” button about eight times in his fury. The whiskey wasn’t helping. How could he not remember? How could Aiba have just sat there making small talk with him as though that night at the reunion had never happened?
He was going to be single forever.
-
Always Hit The Mark: Staying Agile In An Evolving Marketplace
Sunday, 11:30 AM
Oak Room I-II
Speakers: Takeda Eriko, EVP Supply Chain and Yamada Jiro, SVP Logistics Management, FamilyMart
Attend this engaging roundtable talk to learn how to remain flexible in our constantly changing environment. Despite increasing pressure to cut logistics costs, professionals are still expected to deliver top-notch results in increasingly shorter timeframes. Join us to develop benchmarks for efficiency no matter how large or small your operation is.
-
The breakfast in the cavernous Kansai Room III was western-style, and Sho had covered his pancakes in a horrifying amount of maple syrup and whipped cream. Whatever diet he’d been on before his wife had gotten pregnant was over. If she was putting on weight, then he owed it to her to do the same. In solidarity, Sho called it. Jun thought the whole concept was idiotic. Sho’s wife was getting bigger because of basic biology. Sho just wanted an excuse to eat more junk.
He glumly poked at the eggs he’d gotten from the ‘omelettes made to order’ station in the buffet line. No cheese, no meat. He’d behaved himself, ordering his eggs with mushrooms and spinach.
Jun watched Sho stuff a forkful of calories in his mouth, his eyes closing in bliss.
He should have gotten the fucking pancakes.
Sho looked over, wiping his mouth. “Who killed your dog?”
He sighed, nibbling on a piece of toast. “I’m fine.”
“You look pretty awful,” Sho said, which was rich coming from someone with a small dollop of whipped cream on his nose. “Sleep okay? I always have trouble sleeping in a bed that’s not mine.”
“It’s not that.”
Sho had another bite. They were seated at one of the tables in the very back of the room, away from all the logistics and supply chain professionals here to listen to this morning’s opening speaker, some woman from the postal service blathering on about the “future of fulfillment.” Jun was missing an altogether different kind of fulfillment in his life, he thought bitterly.
“Work-related?” Sho asked nervously. “You think I should have gotten a different kind of candy? Shihori-chan said that…”
He chuckled quietly. “Sho-san, it’s not the candy. Believe me.”
“Okay.”
They continued to eat quietly. Shihori was handling the booth for now, foregoing the free breakfast in favor of some vendor dinner that night. Jun would take the next shift while Sho was planning to attend some conference sessions, see what the latest trends were in hopes of figuring out how best to chat with folks who came to their booth. Sho liked that sort of thing.
Jun had tossed and turned all night, pissed off and restless. In one of his previous jobs, he’d filled out an employee feedback survey, emphatically stating that he wanted to be assessed on a regular basis. In that job, he was usually given an annual review by a supervisor, but for someone with a brain wired like Jun’s, that simply wasn’t good enough. He’d talked a supervisor into reviewing his work quarterly, and now at the JTSB, his current supervisor Sakamoto-san met with him every month to check in with him.
Basically, Jun was the type of person who needed constant feedback, no matter how insignificant the issue might be. Typos in his work-Sho usually caught those and because Sho was Sho, he was happy to point them out to Jun without being an asshole about it. Sakamoto-san edited his and Sho’s work, explaining where to tighten up their writing, where to make cuts. Jun, an anxiety-prone person, preferred to know right away if he was fucking up and preferred to know right away if he was doing something perfectly.
This incident with Aiba…or more like these incidents, plural…
It was just the kind of thing to drive him crazy. Aiba’s sudden appearances and even more sudden disappearances from his life. And now Aiba’s complete inability to so much as comment on the one night they’d had together. If Aiba thought Jun had sucked in bed, he should at least have said something. If Jun hadn’t sucked in bed but Aiba wasn’t that into him for more than that one night thing, he should at least have said something. Had Aiba ever found Jun’s number in his jacket? He didn’t have any answers, and fuck, it was pissing him off.
Aiba’s behavior at the bar made absolutely zero sense, and given their previous interactions, Jun thought he’d be stuck wondering why for the rest of his life.
“Sho-san,” he mumbled. “Did you have a crush on anyone in high school?”
For his part, Sho managed to treat Jun’s question respectfully, but Jun supposed that was because they were both serious souls. “Ah, well…I went to an all-boys high school, Matsumoto-kun…”
Jun shook his head. “Sorry…”
“But there were girls at the cram school I went to that I liked. And some of my friends had cute sisters…”
“And if you were ever presented with the opportunity to sleep with one of those women, did you go for it?”
Sho blushed. “In high school?”
“No, at any time…perhaps ten years later…”
“This is a rather specific line of inquiry.”
“I’ve had one night stands before, Sho-san, where it was pretty obviously not going to happen again. But say you have a stronger connection with someone, that you’ve met them multiple times before. And then you sleep together. And you exchange numbers and everything. So then what’s your reaction when they never call?”
“I guess I’d be upset.”
“Right?” he replied emphatically. “You’d be really fucking upset!”
Sho took a very slow, diplomatic sip from his cup of coffee. “I have to ask…did you try to call the person?”
“Yeah. The number I was given was wrong. But…um…” He thought of Aiba and his long decade of handing over incorrect business cards. “Um…I don’t think it was maliciously intended.”
“The person gave you a wrong number by accident?”
“He’s always given me the wrong number. But it’s the same wrong number. I see this person every four or five years…”
“Like the World Cup!”
He paused, looking over to see that Sho was very concerned. He’d even set his pancake fork down. “Yeah, like the World Cup, I guess. But anyhow, I saw him last night…”
“What? No way!”
Jun dug around in his pocket, finding the business card Aiba had given him, as though they hadn’t done that salaryman song and dance before. He kept it in his hand, not quite wanting Sho to see it. “The last time I saw this guy, mind you, we had sex on every surface of his hotel room.”
“I see.” Sho reached for his orange juice, guzzling it down.
Jun kept going, knowing Sho would forgive him for being vulgar. Jun had spilled his guts to Sho on multiple occasions before. “So like, the first thing he does is walk up to the bar, sit down, pat me on the back. And hands me his business card!”
“Really?”
“Yeah, he’s here for a different conference. But we talked for a long time and not once did our last…encounter come up in conversation.”
“Do you think he was trying to avoid the topic?”
“No, I think he might have actually forgotten we’d even hooked up.”
Sho munched on a piece of bacon, pointing the rest of it at Jun. Upon swallowing, Sho shook his head, the bacon wiggling in his fingers as he gestured with it. “You don’t forget something like that.”
“It’s the only explanation that makes sense to me. Because he had my number and never called me. I had his number and believe me, I tried to call him.”
Sho shook the bacon again. “He gave you his business card yesterday, right? Call him. Don’t settle for another World Cup. Call him and demand an explanation. Then at least you’ll have closure.”
Jun sighed. “He’s given this same card to me over and over. It’s the wrong number.”
“And you never told him so? Wouldn’t you want to know if your business card had incorrect information?”
He paused. He’d spent all these years angry at Aiba for ditching him, and the idea of correcting him had never crossed his mind. “I guess that would be a good enough excuse to talk to him again.”
“Exactly,” Sho said. “Do you know what conference he’s here for?”
“Yeah. And he said he might be at the hotel bar tonight too…”
“Well, there you go,” Sho said, swishing another bite of pancake around in the syrup river on his plate before stuffing it in his mouth. He continued talking around his food. “Be proactive.”
“Be proactive,” he repeated, finding that his eggs were now too cold to bother with.
part two
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Matsumoto Jun/Aiba Masaki
Summary: Theirs was not the most thrilling saga, but to Jun, Aiba was the “guy that got away.” And then the “guy that got away again.” And then ”the guy that got away again…again.” But perhaps this time will be different…
Notes/Warnings: This story is set at a convention center in Osaka that is not exactly INTEX Osaka, but is somewhat inspired by its general location. And many thanks to the websites of the various boring industry conventions I visited while writing this story, especially the ones where I borrowed/paraphrased some of their *riveting* descriptions.
They were stuck at the far end of the expo hall, as far from the exits as possible because Jun assumed that was standard operating procedure for government booths. Government participants were only charged half the standard exhibit rate for a booth, so the organizers liked to retaliate by keeping them far away from most of the convention traffic.
Not that Jun minded much. Matsumoto Jun relished any opportunity to get out of town, away from the sad state of their offices in Tokyo. Their floor was being repainted this weekend, from the current shade of beige to another shade of beige. The Japanese government had likely purchased said beige in bulk because painting offices green or blue or anything but beige might give employees the impression that their work was supposed to be rewarding or enjoyable in some way.
Jun had been working for the Japan Transport Safety Board for two years now, having transferred from an even less interesting administrative position in the offices of the Government Pension Investment Fund. He didn’t get to do anything exciting like go to the scenes of train or ferry accidents to investigate what had gone wrong. Instead he sat at his desk every day entering statistics and working on promotional materials.
It was the promotional materials that had brought him to Osaka for an extended weekend. He’d been pretty sure that nothing was more uninteresting than a government office job, but the attendees of the 2016 Trucking, Logistics, and Supply Chain Forum in their unfashionable, poorly-fitted suits gave him cause for reflection. The JTSB booth was stuck at the far end of the hall next to a booth for a company Jun had never heard of, but the pens they were giving away said that they were “dedicated to driving supply chain resilience and value,” whatever that meant. That had to be worse, right?
There were no conference sessions or seminars tonight, Friday night, but the expo floor was opening in an hour, and the three of them would be running the booth tonight and would rotate booth shifts on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday for the remainder of the convention. Jun didn’t really think it was necessary for three people to run the stupid booth, but Sho had assumed that getting them away from the paint fumes for a few workdays had been their supervisor’s one and only kindness offered since thanks to budget cuts, nobody in their department was getting a raise this year.
Speaking of Sho, his colleague of two years, the man was still standing in front of the booth with his arms crossed, lower lip jutting out, frowning at the state of it. For some reason, he thought there was something “odd” with their booth, but he had yet to identify what was odd about it. Which had led to him standing like that for the last six and a half minutes.
Unlike Jun, Sakurai Sho had been destined for a bureaucrat’s life from birth. Sho was a very nice guy, always smart, always professional. Developing and writing brochures and pamphlets about safety regulations contented him quite easily. But Jun had a feeling that Sho would be transferring up to something more challenging sooner or later. He and his wife had a baby on the way now, and Papa Sho would need more money coming in to cover the cost of a growing family.
Jun and the other member of their team, Kanjiya Shihori, were both too single and too overworked to have time to punch up their CVs and find somewhere else to apply. Maybe they’d be more motivated if and when Sho left. Shihori was standing beside Sho, petite and charming and the self-designated “eye candy” of their JTSB booth. She was the graphic designer on their team, taking Sho and Jun’s pages and pages of boring stats and even more boring text and turning them into sensible publications.
She tapped one of the neighboring booth’s pens against her chin, staring up at Sho. “Sho-san,” she said in her usual teasing tone. “Everything is spelled correctly. The logo is centered perfectly on the banner. Jun-san has the pamphlets spread out very attractively. What are you looking for?”
Sho’s frown only deepened. “We don’t have any pens.”
Shihori nodded, tapping the pen she’d snatched against her chin again. “We don’t.”
Sho flailed his arms, his convention attendee lanyard swaying to and fro. Jun continued to sit back in his chair behind their table, bored out of his skull, trying not to grin at Sho’s distress. “This is our only in-person outreach event for the quarter, and we just look sad! Why don’t we have any pens?”
“Because customized pens cost money,” Shihori pointed out.
“All we have are the ‘Stay Alert, Stay Alive’ pamphlets,” Sho complained. “We’re as far from civilization as we can get. We have the worst location. The least amount of projected foot traffic. And we have no freebies.”
“That shipping conglomerate from Fukuoka had mouse pads,” Jun said, offering Sho a wink. “Mouse pads, Sho-san.”
Sho pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand how they can send us all the way to Osaka without any freebies.”
“Technically ‘Stay Alert, Stay Alive’ is the freebie,” Jun reminded him.
“And besides,” Shihori continued, “we’re the government. Since when do we give anything away for free?”
Sho moved forward, adjusting some of the pamphlets Jun had arranged with care, if only because it had killed some time. He couldn’t really wander off until the expo hall officially opened for the night. That was when they were supposed to be serving the welcome appetizers, and Jun’s stomach was rumbling in desperation already. They only received 2500 yen daily for meals during the convention, the rest coming from their own pockets. Those free appetizers were going to save his wallet tonight.
Sho stepped back, still looking annoyed by the sad state of their convention presence. “Human beings have one vital thing in common. Human beings thrive on free shit.”
“True,” Shihori said. Jun offered her a sly smile, knowing her convention attendee canvas bag had at least 20 free pens in it already even though the expo hadn’t started yet. His own bag had six pens and a fuzzy wristband from some delivery service even though he wasn’t a wristband kind of guy.
“Shihori-chan and I could go booth to booth, steal pens and other convention swag and pretend they’re our freebies,” Jun joked.
“No stealing,” Sho chided them. “We’re government representatives!”
“I think Yamato Trucking and Shipping was giving out candy with their service catalogs. They didn’t put company logos on them,” Shihori said. “Nobody would be the wiser!”
“I could leave the convention center and go down to Dotonbori or a subway stop, see if they’ve got any cute girls handing out tissues,” Jun added.
Sho rolled his eyes. “I’ll buy candy tomorrow so we don’t look so pathetic the entire expo.”
Jun didn’t care one way or another, so he simply nodded in agreement. He was away from home with time off work. The convention booth was simply a few hours’ obligation each day, and the rest of the time he’d use to wander off, take in the sights, relax.
Maybe even find someone for a night, if only because he kept striking out in Tokyo, and he was getting really lonely. Working long hours and coming home to his empty apartment, his solitary bonsai on his balcony being the only one that needed him.
A change of scenery could do him good, and he was in the perfect place to hunt around.
The International Expo Center Osaka was home to four different conventions that weekend, including the one Jun was currently attending. The hotel they were staying at was connected to the Expo Center and another convention was going on there. He’d be surrounded by people away from home for a few days, none of them looking for more than a little fun. Much as Jun longed for something a bit more permanent, he’d take a one night stand over the nothing he was currently experiencing back home.
Almost all of Jun’s friends at home were straight - nobody ever seemed to know any eligible men looking for a guy like Jun. And even worse, most of his friends were starting to settle down. His twenties, his carefree partying days, were behind him, and he was already three years into his thirties.
His friends wanted to have home parties now because they had kids to put to bed early. He’d played wing man for several of his friends the last few years. He could count three different married couples he’d personally helped get together. But now that it was seemingly Jun’s turn, his own support system had to get home to read bedtime stories instead. They couldn’t stay out late with him anymore. He was on his own to find “the one.” Sho had even tried to help him once, but his well-meaning recommendation had been one of his university professors, a guy who’d been old enough to be Jun’s father.
He’d always thought he was a good catch. He had a steady job, even if it was far from his first choice of career. He made decent money, enough to put some in savings for the future and enough to occasionally splurge on nice clothes. He took good care of himself, eating healthy, exercising regularly, staying well-groomed. He’d saved up money and fixed his crooked teeth once he had his government salary. He had a bit of a “strong” face, but he didn’t think he was ugly.
And still he kept striking out. “I’m not looking for a serious relationship.” “I don’t want my family and friends to know I’m gay.” “You’re too stoic.” “You’re too passionate.” “You’re too particular.” “I just don’t think this is going to work.”
Things had been especially dire lately, and his confidence was starting to waver. He’d already settled for a professional life that was dull but steady. He couldn’t afford to settle in his personal life too. Or even worse, to give up.
“Matsumoto-kun, what do you think?”
He blinked, realizing that he’d fallen into a stupid spiral of self-pity. Sho was looking at him expectantly, and Jun realized that he hadn’t been paying attention. He was still on the clock right now.
“Sorry, what?”
Sho was always so patient with him, whether he was editing work reports or getting lost in his thoughts. Sho was going to be a good dad. “I asked what type of candy I should buy. You know, to lure people in?”
“Chocolate. Something with chocolate.”
Shihori and Sho then went on to debate the various merits of different chocolate candies as well as the merits of using taxpayer money to buy candy to bribe conference-goers to take their safety pamphlets.
Jun just focused on counting down the seconds, putting him closer to free appetizer time. And closer to his pending efforts to get laid and prove he was more than just a government shill in a suit.
-
Keep On Trucking: Driver Retention Strategies
Saturday, 2:00 PM
Primrose Room B
Speaker: Takahashi Yosuke, COO Supply Chain Solutions, Kao Corporation
Driver shortages have been identified as one of the key problems facing the industry at large in the years to come. This session focuses on best practices for the recruitment and retention of drivers, highlighting everything you need to know in an ever-evolving world. From crafting the perfect job advert to developing competitive employee compensation packages, join Takahashi-san and learn how to keep your truckers happy.
-
The Byatt Regency was connected to the convention center by an insulated glass walkway that went up and over the street. With the numerous conventions in the convention center itself as well as the hotels that connected to it, there had to be a few thousand people spread throughout the cluster of buildings this weekend.
Heading back through the walkway, he passed dozens of people with convention badges hung around their necks and worn with a sense of real purpose and pride. Some were here for a fishing expo, others were in town for a dental convention. There were people for the logistics convention wearing the same blue-bordered badge Jun had around his neck. There were fruit farmers from Shikoku who seemed a bit lost in the fast-paced convention area. Nerdy types here for the electronics show.
He and Sho were meeting up for a free breakfast in the morning, coinciding with the opening session of the convention. Sho had stuffed himself with appetizer shrimp and departed for his room so he could FaceTime with his wife before getting some sleep. Shihori was meeting up for dinner and drinks with a college friend who lived halfway between Osaka and Kobe.
With the morning breakfast, he decided against heading out for the Osaka nightlife on his own. He instead chose to play it safe, taking off his lanyard and shoving it in the pocket of his slacks, loosening his tie as he headed for his hotel’s bar. He was full but not unpleasantly so from the various snacks in the expo hall, and a few drinks would help loosen him up.
The bar was fairly large, as the Byatt hosted conventions and convention guests year-round. But there was still a calm coziness to it, the lights dimmed and the dark walls lending it a sensual air. Jun supposed that the hotel’s interior design team knew exactly the type of clientele to cater to, the sort of people who lived by the motto of “what happens at the convention stays at the convention.”
Most of the booths and tables were occupied with groups of all sorts, most of whom kept their convention badges on. “Matsumoto Jun, Japan Transport Safety Board” wasn’t the greatest conversation starter. He didn’t really like starting off with the various stats he knew about commercial airline disasters or train derailments, so he chose to remain a mystery until specifically asked.
He had a seat at the far end of the bar, which afforded him a decent view of the left side of the room in case he felt like being brave and seeing if any of his good pick-up lines still worked. With a glass of whiskey to sip, he tried to be stealthy, sneaking peeks all around him. The bartender was well-trained to offer no judgment, merely offering Jun a second drink as soon as his first was done.
Tables erupted into laughter while others were deep into impressing each other, exchanging business cards and forging connections. The two women occupying the seats next to Jun eventually left, gossiping about some mutual friend of theirs who was hoping to hook up with one of the dentists wandering around.
Everywhere he peeked, no luck. Lots of wedding rings. And those without them were doing their best to impress the women they were sitting with. Jun would have to sit at the bar longer than he planned - perhaps his own prospects wouldn’t come around until most of the straight folks were already tipsy, wouldn’t be as inclined to stare.
He took out his phone to play games while he waited, grinning at the sight of fourteen LINE messages from Sho, every single one about the candy he planned to buy to stock the booth. It was a typical set of Sho messages, him rambling along and eventually coming to his own conclusion without requiring Jun to say anything but “sounds good” at the end. He did just that, sending a cute sticker expressing his approval. Sho replied in seconds with a “see you in the morning.”
He was just about to tap on a game when he heard an oddly familiar voice.
“Matsujun!”
He stiffened in surprise, nearly dropping his phone on the bar counter. The last time he’d heard that voice...
“Hey Matsujun, it is you!”
He swiveled a little in his seat just as another man slid into the empty one beside him. To Jun’s utter dismay, he was just as gorgeous as he’d always been. Tall and lean, friendly eyes, and that even friendlier smile. Tactile as always, too, Jun realized when the man reached out, patting him on the back and laughing.
“I’d recognize those eyebrows of yours anywhere,” Aiba Masaki teased, his rough voice warm and open.
Jun’s heart sank, but he held up his glass as though he was perfectly fine, returning Aiba’s smile. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Aiba was in a well-fitted gray suit that made his lanky limbs appear even longer. The guy had legs for days. He lifted his convention badge, the paper inside the plastic identifying him as “Aiba Masaki, Zic Camera, Tokyo.”
“I’m here for the Smart Home show,” Aiba explained before waving the bartender over and asking for one of the beers on tap. The HomeSmarts Show and Expo was the electronics convention. It was the biggest event currently ongoing at the convention center, and Jun kind of envied the people who got to wander around playing with gadgets all day.
“Nice,” Jun said.
“Right? Here’s me,” Aiba answered, digging around inside his suit jacket and unearthing a small stack of business cards. He held one out obliviously, and Jun took it, trying not to grimace as he did so. He immediately knew it was the exact same card Aiba had always had, identifying him as a buyer for Zic, an electronics retailer.
Jun weakly offered up a card of his own, trying not to frown as Aiba pocketed it without reading it, instead turning to smile at the bartender when his pint glass was set down on a Byatt Regency coaster before him. Jun watched Aiba’s Adam’s apple bob in his perfect, tanned throat as he gulped down a first ample sip.
He set his glass down with a satisfied smack of his lips before leaning over to squeeze Jun’s shoulder. Aiba had always been so touchy-feely. “Gosh, it’s so good to see you. It’s been ages!”
“Since the 10-year reunion,” Jun said pointedly, not the least bit surprised when Aiba showed no real sign of recognition.
“Ah, ah, right. With Nino,” Aiba said, nodding and finally letting go of him.
“Right. With Nino,” Jun mumbled.
-
S.O.S. - Save Our Soil
Saturday, 10:00 AM
Oak Room III
Speaker: Professor Amemiya Daiki, Faculty of Agriculture, Hokkaido University
This special session is sponsored by the Nippon Soil Health Conglomerate. Amemiya-sensei will cover the latest strategies in soil management, exploring what you need to know to ensure the health of your crops for years to come. Learn about solutions specific to the Shikoku region, backed by data from a five-year study of sudachi farms in Tokushima Prefecture.
-
Theirs was not the most thrilling saga, but to Jun, Aiba was the “guy that got away.” And then the “guy that got away again.”
And then ”the guy that got away again…again.”
Aiba Masaki had always been…well, airheaded was kind of a rude way to put it. He was just the sort of guy who was kind and handsome and perfect 24/7/365, but he sometimes suffered from the double whammy of selective memory loss and vanishing common sense. But fuck, he was so pretty.
Jun and Aiba had gone to the same high school. Aiba had been a year ahead, the admired captain of the basketball team and the recipient of the most Valentine’s chocolates in school history. Jun, almost half a foot shorter at the time and plagued with pimples, had attended every home game just to watch him play, even though he was thoroughly uninterested in basketball. It had been enough to listen to Aiba’s sneakers squeak across the court, to sneak a peek at the strangely alluring, dark birthmark on his shoulder that was only visible when he was wearing the team jersey.
Aiba had been best friends with Ninomiya Kazunari, a shy boy in Jun’s homeroom who tallied all the stats for the basketball team. They’d grown up together, and Aiba’s loyalty to Nino had never wavered even though they seemed to have very little in common, the shining jock and the math geek. No matter how popular Aiba became, he and Nino were inseparable.
When Aiba had found out that some other students were bullying Nino, he’d knocked out one of the bullies’ two front teeth and had happily accepted a week-long suspension in punishment. In spite of that (or in most cases, because of it) Aiba’s locker overflowed with love letters from his many admirers. Half loved him for his athleticism and shining smile, the other half loved him for his kind and devoted heart. Jun, it went without saying, had fallen for all of him.
It was the sharp-eyed Ninomiya who’d figured out why Jun was such a diligent basketball game attendee. “I can pass him a letter if you want,” Nino had offered in class one day just before the bell. “I get asked all the time.”
Jun had gone pale at the generous offer, managing only to nod at Ninomiya, who never spoke to non-Aiba people unless he really had to. That had to mean something! He spent weeks gathering his courage, seeing girl after girl sighing and complaining that Aiba was still single. That was what gave Jun the extra push he needed, convincing himself that Aiba was probably gay - just like him!
When he finally had a confession letter composed, the product of several sleepless nights and several inspiring masturbatory incidents, he’d caught Nino before class. “Um, does your offer still stand?”
Nino had looked at him and sighed. “Too late, sorry.”
The shock and surprise that swept the school that morning troubled Jun for years. When he’d lie in bed at night and wonder “what if I’d moved faster…” Because if he’d moved faster, maybe he wouldn’t have given up on attending that art university. Maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in a long series of boring government jobs.
Captain of the basketball team Aiba Masaki, a week away from graduating, was apparently dating a college guy, someone he’d met when playing basketball at the local community center near his house. And the worst part?
The guy’s name had been Matsuyama Jun.
Of all the bad luck…
So Aiba graduated in a blur of scandal and awe. Years passed. And then Jun found himself attending his five-year high school reunion. It was Ninomiya again who’d tried to help him. Before Jun had gone into the bar, Nino had been outside smoking. Apparently Aiba was attending in order to catch up with a kohai or two from the basketball team - he’d forced the indifferent Nino to go to the reunion just so he could party crash.
“Still got that letter?” Nino had asked him, raising an eyebrow and taking a drag of his cigarette.
It was Nino who arranged everything, managing to get Jun into a booth with him and Aiba. By then, Nino and Aiba were both working together at Zic Camera, inseparable even in their chosen careers. Aiba had handed over his business card proudly. Nino had made excuses to leave, anti-social as he’d ever been, and Jun had another chance. After talking and drinking together for three hours, Jun had been on the verge of success. Touchy-feely Aiba’s hand had been on and off of his thigh half the night.
Entering his twenties (and sinking money into intense dermatologist appointments) had emboldened Jun, giving him confidence and a reputation among friends as a bit of a playboy. He’d written the name of a nearby love hotel on a bar napkin, had tried to be coy and slipped it across the table. Aiba had instead said “oh, thanks!” and had proceeded to set his beer down on top of it, smearing the ink entirely.
Undeterred, Jun had grabbed another napkin, scribbled again. This time, he slipped it directly into Aiba’s hand. Aiba was in the middle of ordering a round of shots for his adoring masses, but as soon as the shots were down all his admirers’ gullets, he finally took a look at it. The expression on his face had been priceless.
“You got it, Matsujun!”
In hindsight, it would have been more logical to give Aiba his phone number, not just the name of a gay-friendly but still sleazy hotel and the room number he was planning to pick. But Aiba had seemed so interested in getting out of that bar for casual sex with him that logic had not kicked in.
And so Jun had said his goodbyes first, letting Aiba wrap up his various social calls with his fans. Jun had walked over to the hotel, gone to the simply-appointed room he’d written down, and prudently purchased some apple-scented lubricant from the vending machine to go along with the complimentary apple-scented condoms that had been tastefully arranged in a heart shape on the bedspread.
Three hours later, Jun realized Aiba wasn’t coming. And that the phone number on Aiba’s business card was wrong.
Without Aiba’s contact details (or Nino’s) and too prideful and unwilling to fall back into his stalkerish high school habits, Jun remained in the dark for the next five long years. Relationships came, relationships went, and still Jun always wondered.
Aiba pulled the same party crasher trick for the 10-year reunion. Because everyone had been out of high school for a full decade this time and because many classmates wanted to give off the impression that they were well on the road to upper middle class prosperity, the event was hosted at a mildly swanky hotel. Fate decreed that Ninomiya Kazunari would be outside smoking once again, but this time on purpose.
Nino called out to Jun before he went in, seeming rather sympathetic to his cause. He waited with a perfect poker face while Jun explained his side of the five year old story. Nino then filled in the blanks. The ever-forgetful Aiba had wiped up a spill with Jun’s napkin only minutes after he’d left, realizing all too late what he’d done.
But Aiba, kind and sweet and puppy-dumb as he’d always been, had felt super guilty. He’d called Nino to come all the way back to the bar that night, and they’d put the limp napkin under the blow dryer in the men’s room to try and read Jun’s handwriting. It was no use - they’d been able to decipher the room number, but not the name of the actual hotel.
This time there was no excuse, Nino had decided, handing over a room keycard that he’d paid for himself. “Go get him, tiger,” was the encouraging cheer Nino offered.
Jun endured a very lengthy evening with people he barely knew. At 28, Jun was far from interested in settling down, but that wasn’t the case with many of his former classmates. Several people were married, some had kids and all around were clusters of people gabbing about said kids without filtering it for the benefit of the non-parent crowd. My little so-and-so is a potty training work in progress - you won’t believe how much shit comes out of such a small butt! My little so-and-so was very sick this week, he just came into our bedroom and vomited right on the floor!
Jun didn’t dislike children, but everywhere he turned there was a story about a little one expelling something from one end of him or another, and he wanted to scream. It took Jun over an hour of useless mingling before realizing that Aiba wasn’t actually in the banquet room. He found him already upstairs in the room Nino had reserved, under the covers and snoring despite the NBA game blaring out of the TV.
Jun had approached the bed warily, gut churning from all the parent stories and from the realization that for the first time in his life he was in the same room alone with Aiba Masaki.
“Oh Matsujun! I worked until midnight last night, huge project at work! Guess I was really tired...” was the explanation Aiba provided when Jun poked him awake.
He said nothing about the embarrassing events at the last reunion, and Jun didn’t want to ruin the mood by reminding him. Aiba had then gotten out of bed in order to present Jun with his business card, reintroducing himself needlessly. And before they could really start with the small talk, Aiba had kissed him. Aiba had kissed him like it was the end of the world. Jun, over the moon in happiness, didn’t really mind.
And Jun, over the moon in happiness, didn’t check if Aiba had corrected the phone number on his business card.
While Aiba showered, Jun wrote his own phone number down on multiple pieces of paper from the little notepad in the room. He shoved a piece of paper in each of the pockets of Aiba’s jacket as well as the jeans he’d discarded halfway between the bed and the bathroom.
“Call me anytime. XO Jun,” was what he wrote on the notes along with a smily face.
Aiba’s body hadn’t been the same one Jun had admired in high school - he was still slim, but he’d become a solid and steady adult, his muscles clearly trained from regular workouts. And as Jun had long suspected from watching Aiba run around in his basketball shorts with laser focus, he was definitely packing.
In the heat of the moment, Jun thought the sex had been amazing. Aiba was as scatterbrained when it came to fucking as a person could be, but again, in the moment, it had been great. They’d started in the bathroom. Then they’d moved back to the room, Jun first getting fucked against the desk before finally settling in a chair by the window, Aiba sucking Jun’s neck, letting Jun ride him until they both came.
A bit exhausted from the vigorous activity, they’d both fallen into bed. Jun woke around 5:00 in the morning, neck covered in purple hickeys, only to discover that Aiba had already left. And that Aiba had left wearing Jun’s own jeans. An all-too-Aiba mistake. Jun was left with Aiba’s too-tight jeans he could barely zip, the pockets stuffed pathetically with his phone number.
Well, Jun had consoled himself, at least Aiba had taken the right jacket.
But then Aiba never called. And the phone number on the business card was still wrong. Sure there was social media, but despite working in a techie-type field, Aiba seemed to be absent from every network Jun checked.
All Jun had to prove it had even happened was the pair of jeans shoved in the back of his closet. Again, he thought the sex had been amazing. Perhaps Aiba hadn’t thought so. Perhaps Aiba…gentle, sweet, forgetful Aiba Masaki…had thought it was best to say nothing rather than tell him it had been a lousy experience. Maybe Jun had been too loud. Too quiet. Too needy. Or just a disappointing lay all around.
Or, Jun’s more sexually confident side told him, perhaps Aiba had simply taken his jacket to be dry cleaned or had tossed the thing right in the wash, once again losing Jun’s valuable message.
Either way, Jun had decided that his high school crush had come to its bitter end. He had the good sex memories for a lifetime. He ought to have been satisfied with that.
But now the universe had somehow conspired to bring Aiba Masaki back into his life. What the hell was he supposed to do now?
-
Pursuing Suck-cess In 2017: Industry Town Hall
Sunday, 9:00 AM
Cosmos 3A
Speaker: Hashimoto Teru, Product Development Manager, Nyson Japan
Join Nyson’s Hashimoto Teru for this interactive exploration of the trends and technologies that will change the shape of our market category in 2017 and beyond!
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“So which convention are you here for?” Aiba asked politely, as though the last time they’d seen each other Jun hadn’t had Aiba’s dick in his mouth.
Jun, still a bit stunned, dug his lanyard and badge out of his pocket, letting Aiba take it.
“Japan Transport Safety Board,” Aiba read aloud, nodding. He looked up again, eyes friendly. “Safety’s important!”
“Yup.”
“What is the trucking and logistics thing about?”
“My colleagues and I have a booth in the expo center. We’ve got safety pamphlets to distribute. While we focus more on airlines and trains, highway safety’s part of it too.” Jun was going to fall asleep explaining it. “We’ve got some pamphlets about general driving safety. And then we’re promoting a program, a government partnership with a hotel chain where tired truck drivers can stay at a discounted rate so they don’t fall asleep at the wheel and kill somebody.”
“Sounds like a smart deal,” Aiba agreed. He was fiddling with Jun’s badge, twisting the lanyard between his long fingers. Perhaps he was actually remembering what they’d done the last time they’d been in a hotel together.
“Nah, it’s boring,” Jun admitted, “but the hotel rooms are pretty nice here.”
Aiba didn’t react, setting the lanyard down on the bar top and having another swig from his beer. “Nino and I are in the other hotel, the one on the other side of the expo center. The Cosmos Hotel and Suites.”
“Nino’s here?”
Aiba smiled fondly. “Yeah. There’s some porn shop he likes to go to in Nipponbashi, so he liked having an excuse to come to Osaka with someone else paying for it.”
“I see.”
“This hotel’s a little nicer,” Aiba said. “Our department’s gone through some budget cuts this year, so they put us up on the sad businessman floor. Single bed, the view out the window is of the convention center wall. At least the stuff at the show’s pretty cool.”
As far as Jun remembered from the multiple times Aiba had explained it to him before, he and Ninomiya were on a team that chose what types of gadgets and electronics would be sold in Zic Camera stores. Ninomiya was a nerd, so the job made a lot of sense for him. For Aiba though, Jun got the impression Aiba just liked the excitement that came from testing out new gadgets. The combined power of Ninomiya’s nerdiness and Aiba’s adventurousness and enthusiasm probably made them a good team.
Jun just let Aiba talk and talk. About the new smart home techie shit he was most looking forward to trying out. About the other nerds that he worked with back in Tokyo. About the work baseball team he captained, with Ninomiya as his star pitcher. About the work basketball team nobody else joined. About the restaurant his parents operated. About trying to teach his younger brother’s toddler bad words.
Jun finished his third glass of whiskey, body nearly quivering in rage. It was pretty obvious what was going on here. The sex they’d had together wasn’t just lousy - to Aiba, it wasn’t even worth remembering! Because what else could explain the way Aiba was chattering away without so much as a “you know, about last time, Matsujun…”
Jun had run into exes before, a few casual hook-ups before. There was always that look. The “yeah, I remember what your cock looks like” look. The “yeah, I remember what your face looks like when you come” look. Even if it wasn’t outright acknowledged out loud, at least there was always that look.
What the hell had Jun done wrong that night?!
He flagged down the bartender, pulling out his credit card so he could pay his tab. Aiba caught his shoulder. “Hey, why are you going?”
Jun waved him off, trying to look a bit less than murderous. “Sorry. There’s a breakfast session I’m attending with my colleague in the morning.”
“Oh, I see.” For the first time, Aiba looked a bit disappointed.
“Then I’m on and off at our booth all day. Important government business, you see.”
“Right. Of course. Definitely.”
He signed the receipt, shoving his own copy in his jacket pocket. He wondered if the government would still reimburse him if all he spent his daily 2500 yen on was booze. “Was good to see you, Aiba-san.”
Aiba seemed even more upset when he heard Jun address him so formally. Too little, too late. “Good to see you, too. Maybe I’ll stop here again, the bar I mean…tomorrow night and we could…”
“Bye now.”
He walked away in a huff, not allowing himself to look back. The elevator banks were fairly empty, and he jabbed the “Up” button about eight times in his fury. The whiskey wasn’t helping. How could he not remember? How could Aiba have just sat there making small talk with him as though that night at the reunion had never happened?
He was going to be single forever.
-
Always Hit The Mark: Staying Agile In An Evolving Marketplace
Sunday, 11:30 AM
Oak Room I-II
Speakers: Takeda Eriko, EVP Supply Chain and Yamada Jiro, SVP Logistics Management, FamilyMart
Attend this engaging roundtable talk to learn how to remain flexible in our constantly changing environment. Despite increasing pressure to cut logistics costs, professionals are still expected to deliver top-notch results in increasingly shorter timeframes. Join us to develop benchmarks for efficiency no matter how large or small your operation is.
-
The breakfast in the cavernous Kansai Room III was western-style, and Sho had covered his pancakes in a horrifying amount of maple syrup and whipped cream. Whatever diet he’d been on before his wife had gotten pregnant was over. If she was putting on weight, then he owed it to her to do the same. In solidarity, Sho called it. Jun thought the whole concept was idiotic. Sho’s wife was getting bigger because of basic biology. Sho just wanted an excuse to eat more junk.
He glumly poked at the eggs he’d gotten from the ‘omelettes made to order’ station in the buffet line. No cheese, no meat. He’d behaved himself, ordering his eggs with mushrooms and spinach.
Jun watched Sho stuff a forkful of calories in his mouth, his eyes closing in bliss.
He should have gotten the fucking pancakes.
Sho looked over, wiping his mouth. “Who killed your dog?”
He sighed, nibbling on a piece of toast. “I’m fine.”
“You look pretty awful,” Sho said, which was rich coming from someone with a small dollop of whipped cream on his nose. “Sleep okay? I always have trouble sleeping in a bed that’s not mine.”
“It’s not that.”
Sho had another bite. They were seated at one of the tables in the very back of the room, away from all the logistics and supply chain professionals here to listen to this morning’s opening speaker, some woman from the postal service blathering on about the “future of fulfillment.” Jun was missing an altogether different kind of fulfillment in his life, he thought bitterly.
“Work-related?” Sho asked nervously. “You think I should have gotten a different kind of candy? Shihori-chan said that…”
He chuckled quietly. “Sho-san, it’s not the candy. Believe me.”
“Okay.”
They continued to eat quietly. Shihori was handling the booth for now, foregoing the free breakfast in favor of some vendor dinner that night. Jun would take the next shift while Sho was planning to attend some conference sessions, see what the latest trends were in hopes of figuring out how best to chat with folks who came to their booth. Sho liked that sort of thing.
Jun had tossed and turned all night, pissed off and restless. In one of his previous jobs, he’d filled out an employee feedback survey, emphatically stating that he wanted to be assessed on a regular basis. In that job, he was usually given an annual review by a supervisor, but for someone with a brain wired like Jun’s, that simply wasn’t good enough. He’d talked a supervisor into reviewing his work quarterly, and now at the JTSB, his current supervisor Sakamoto-san met with him every month to check in with him.
Basically, Jun was the type of person who needed constant feedback, no matter how insignificant the issue might be. Typos in his work-Sho usually caught those and because Sho was Sho, he was happy to point them out to Jun without being an asshole about it. Sakamoto-san edited his and Sho’s work, explaining where to tighten up their writing, where to make cuts. Jun, an anxiety-prone person, preferred to know right away if he was fucking up and preferred to know right away if he was doing something perfectly.
This incident with Aiba…or more like these incidents, plural…
It was just the kind of thing to drive him crazy. Aiba’s sudden appearances and even more sudden disappearances from his life. And now Aiba’s complete inability to so much as comment on the one night they’d had together. If Aiba thought Jun had sucked in bed, he should at least have said something. If Jun hadn’t sucked in bed but Aiba wasn’t that into him for more than that one night thing, he should at least have said something. Had Aiba ever found Jun’s number in his jacket? He didn’t have any answers, and fuck, it was pissing him off.
Aiba’s behavior at the bar made absolutely zero sense, and given their previous interactions, Jun thought he’d be stuck wondering why for the rest of his life.
“Sho-san,” he mumbled. “Did you have a crush on anyone in high school?”
For his part, Sho managed to treat Jun’s question respectfully, but Jun supposed that was because they were both serious souls. “Ah, well…I went to an all-boys high school, Matsumoto-kun…”
Jun shook his head. “Sorry…”
“But there were girls at the cram school I went to that I liked. And some of my friends had cute sisters…”
“And if you were ever presented with the opportunity to sleep with one of those women, did you go for it?”
Sho blushed. “In high school?”
“No, at any time…perhaps ten years later…”
“This is a rather specific line of inquiry.”
“I’ve had one night stands before, Sho-san, where it was pretty obviously not going to happen again. But say you have a stronger connection with someone, that you’ve met them multiple times before. And then you sleep together. And you exchange numbers and everything. So then what’s your reaction when they never call?”
“I guess I’d be upset.”
“Right?” he replied emphatically. “You’d be really fucking upset!”
Sho took a very slow, diplomatic sip from his cup of coffee. “I have to ask…did you try to call the person?”
“Yeah. The number I was given was wrong. But…um…” He thought of Aiba and his long decade of handing over incorrect business cards. “Um…I don’t think it was maliciously intended.”
“The person gave you a wrong number by accident?”
“He’s always given me the wrong number. But it’s the same wrong number. I see this person every four or five years…”
“Like the World Cup!”
He paused, looking over to see that Sho was very concerned. He’d even set his pancake fork down. “Yeah, like the World Cup, I guess. But anyhow, I saw him last night…”
“What? No way!”
Jun dug around in his pocket, finding the business card Aiba had given him, as though they hadn’t done that salaryman song and dance before. He kept it in his hand, not quite wanting Sho to see it. “The last time I saw this guy, mind you, we had sex on every surface of his hotel room.”
“I see.” Sho reached for his orange juice, guzzling it down.
Jun kept going, knowing Sho would forgive him for being vulgar. Jun had spilled his guts to Sho on multiple occasions before. “So like, the first thing he does is walk up to the bar, sit down, pat me on the back. And hands me his business card!”
“Really?”
“Yeah, he’s here for a different conference. But we talked for a long time and not once did our last…encounter come up in conversation.”
“Do you think he was trying to avoid the topic?”
“No, I think he might have actually forgotten we’d even hooked up.”
Sho munched on a piece of bacon, pointing the rest of it at Jun. Upon swallowing, Sho shook his head, the bacon wiggling in his fingers as he gestured with it. “You don’t forget something like that.”
“It’s the only explanation that makes sense to me. Because he had my number and never called me. I had his number and believe me, I tried to call him.”
Sho shook the bacon again. “He gave you his business card yesterday, right? Call him. Don’t settle for another World Cup. Call him and demand an explanation. Then at least you’ll have closure.”
Jun sighed. “He’s given this same card to me over and over. It’s the wrong number.”
“And you never told him so? Wouldn’t you want to know if your business card had incorrect information?”
He paused. He’d spent all these years angry at Aiba for ditching him, and the idea of correcting him had never crossed his mind. “I guess that would be a good enough excuse to talk to him again.”
“Exactly,” Sho said. “Do you know what conference he’s here for?”
“Yeah. And he said he might be at the hotel bar tonight too…”
“Well, there you go,” Sho said, swishing another bite of pancake around in the syrup river on his plate before stuffing it in his mouth. He continued talking around his food. “Be proactive.”
“Be proactive,” he repeated, finding that his eggs were now too cold to bother with.
part two