Erratic Parade (part 2)
Part One
Back in the city, Sakurai and Matsumoto separated at the airport. They had their own business to attend to and with a promise to meet, they reluctantly parted ways in professional conduct.
Matsumoto fell into his old routine as soon as he returned to health the day after. He had his flustered secretary run about meeting and greeting colleagues and business partners, organizing and passing along official documents, and filling his schedule with luncheons and dinner parties. Only a few days away and Matsumoto felt that he was imminently behind. He pushed and pulled himself and his secretary along to catch up.
Quite flabbergasted, his secretary tearfully told him after a week of an overwhelming workload, "I feel nauseous, director."
They were in Matsumoto's office. Idling in an armchair across the room in his usual spot, Ohno whispered, "Mr. Secretary is panicked and distressed, just like how Nino says it is."
Matsumoto unintentionally repeated it out loud.
His secretary threw him one of his rare, dark looks. "I wish you wouldn't perpetuate that nickname, director," he bemoaned. "I have introduced myself to Mr. Ninomiya so many times, but he refuses to remember my name."
"Sorry," Matsumoto apologized.
Much exasperated, Aiba Masaki left the office.
As the door closed behind him, Ohno sighed from his armchair. "Aiba's a star that fell from the sky, Jun. Did you know that?"
Playing along with him, Matsumoto asked, "And why did he fall from the sky?"
Ohno rocked back in his seat. "He was a wishing star, but when he loved someone and conceptualized his own wish, he fell. Sadly, his wish did not come true and he cannot find the person he loved."
"How tragic," Matsumoto said without much interest and resumed his work.
A few minutes later, just as he was about to become engrossed, his private phone beeped with a distracting message. Matsumoto took a look at it and saw that the following was from Sakurai.
Eagerly, he opened the message and read an invitation to dinner written in Sakurai's rigid and formal style. He reached for his office phone and connected to his secretary's desk.
Ohno watched him with curiosity.
"Aiba, cancel my plans tonight. I have something important to do," he said.
"B-but-" Aiba started.
"I'm busy," Matsumoto emphasized and hung up.
Ohno pursed his lips in thought. "Maybe you should give Aiba a pat on the back, Jun. I think he deserves it."
"I'll remember to," Matsumoto promised.
--
When Matsumoto arrived at the restaurant Sakurai and he had agreed on, he expected Sakurai to be inside, waiting for him at their table. But on the third floor lobby, he found the latter leaning against a wall opposite the entrance. There was no waiter outside to direct them in.
Sakurai saw him and stowed his smart-phone away.
"Are we waiting for an open table?" Matsumoto asked, surprised that Sakurai had not called ahead to reserve a table for them. With their reputation, they could get inside even in the most crowded places with no worry.
"That's not it. I had an important phone call and I wanted to take it out here," Sakurai explained. He led the way back inside to a table near the windows that had been set for them.
Matsumoto took the seat opposite him and grabbed the menu. He flipped through it. Silence fell in between them and when he glanced at his partner, Sakurai was focused on the menu with an intent that seemed unnatural.
Despite the air-conditioned interior, Matsumoto could literally see the sweat on Sakurai's brow. He noticed he wasn't as collected as he thought he was either because his own hands felt clammy. He had not realized how difficult it would be for the both of them to meet again so casually. It seemed the city was different from the wild countryside where their easy camaraderie had been established. In the city, they had to start over.
"Are you feeling better?" Sakurai asked to fill the silence.
Matsumoto set his menu down. He leaned back in his seat and observed Sakurai.
After a few passing seconds, flustered by the attention, Sakurai set his menu aside as well and met his eyes. "We can pretend that nothing happened," Sakurai said, "that we didn't sleep together, that I didn't follow you to your private home and that we didn't part at the airport with a little regret," With each spoken word, his innate stubbornness strengthened his resolve and he added, "We can make sure that we remain business partners and perhaps, we could be friends."
"That's not how it is. We're not youths on a first date," Matsumoto clarified. "It shouldn't have to be so difficult to understand and decide what we want."
"But that's not true," Sakurai murmured and cast down his eyes. "It's different now. It's because we're not children that we have obligations; to society and to our futures."
"Then why did you invite me out, Sakurai?" Matsumoto asked, leaning forward to watch him closely. Maybe they were not the same people as they were back in the countryside. Perhaps, outside that sphere, they couldn't even be friends. He wanted to know what Sakurai thought.
"I followed you to your private home," Sakurai began slowly, deliberating every word, "because I thought that if I only had one chance, one opportunity to turn it around, I had to take it despite my insecurities and anything else that stood in my way. For the time being, I would be someone else."
His words left Matsumoto unexpectedly winded. Sakurai and he were so alike and yet at the same time so different. Along with admiration, his lust for the man before him hit him so strongly that he grasped the edge of the table. "I want to sleep with you again," he stated flatly, breaking the flow of their earlier conversation.
Shock replaced Sakurai's calm expression. He overcame it and smiled thinly. "Are you not afraid I will walk out again?"
"Then be someone else," Matsumoto replied. "And this time, don't leave me."
"I cannot promise you forever," Sakurai said. "But in the present, I want what you want."
--
Matsumoto awoke with Sakurai snoring lightly by his side. He released a breath of relief. Despite his self-assurances, he hadn't known how afraid he was that Sakurai would walk out again. None of his previous night past times had stayed, but with Sakurai, it was different.
Matsumoto pushed back a curl on Sakurai's forehead, watched him sleep for a moment longer then carefully climbed out of the hotel bed. He pulled on his briefs and trousers, and planning to return to bed later, he left them unbuttoned. As quiet as possible, he opened the sliding glass doors to the veranda and stepped out.
In the open, Matsumoto took a sweet breath of the summer night air. Beyond, the city lights glittered in the semi-darkness. He leaned on his hands and wondered if someone else far away was sleeping peacefully.
"Director."
Matsumoto turned and saw behind him, inside the room, Sakurai had woken.
Sitting upright in bed with the comforter wrapped around his middle, hiding his complete nakedness, Sakurai rubbed his face sleepily. "Director," he called again. "Are you leaving?" His hand fell from his face and the fear in his eyes was apparent.
Matsumoto thought that perhaps, Sakurai and he held the same worries. "No," he said and returned inside. He slid the glass doors closed behind him and pulled the curtain back into place, swamping both of them in complete darkness. Matsumoto undressed and climbed back into bed. He felt for Sakurai and pressed light kisses on every inch of bare skin he could get a hold of.
--
They spent many nights thereafter together, and woke in each other's company. Beyond their initial conversation, neither of them discussed whatever it was they had between them. At least for the time being, when they were together, they were content enough with what they might have.
On a similar morning, Matsumoto suggested a different hotel room for that following night as always.
This time, Sakurai hesitated instead of instantly complying.
"What's wrong?" Matsumoto asked while combing his hair back and fixing his jacket. He would stop by in his apartment before going to the office. But he couldn't go out looking ragged first thing in the morning.
Sakurai had just finished his shower and was idly touching his silk tie on the bed. He could not look Matsumoto in the eye when he said, "I will meet you later, Matsumoto."
Reading the mood, Matsumoto's hands on his jacket stalled. The concern that was always lurking at the back of his mind in the preceding weeks returned. "Are we over already? So soon?" He was serious but he said it half-jokingly.
Sakurai chuckled, but it wasn't a joyous sound. "I don't know," he said. "You make it seem like a bad thing."
It did not assuage Matsumoto's fears a bit. He always knew a temporary understanding had a time limit. In fact, Sakurai never promised him anything.
---
Matsumoto's bed dipped and a small body snuggled against his side. He knew it was none other than Ohno. No one else had access into his apartment and no one, not even Sakurai, would touch him so comfortably. He turned and wrapped his arm around his familiar friend. "Is it my fault?" he asked without preamble.
Ohno, who somehow always knew the thoughts on his mind and the fluctuations of his heart, replied, "If you want to hold on to him, for once in your life, you have to try, Jun. It's never too late. Not for Sakurai and neither for Nino."
Matsumoto opened his eyes and looked into the face of his best friend who stared softly back at him mere centimeters away. "Everyone leaves me eventually," he said.
"Not me, Jun," Ohno murmured and gently cupped Matsumoto's face. "I made you the promise. So for the first time, you have to make a promise too; to the person you want to keep. I told you once, didn't I? The stars don't cross. Not for you."
But Matsumoto was afraid, as he always had been.
In the subsequent contemplative silence, his personal phone rang.
Ohno said, "That's Aiba. He's been trying to get a hold of you since an hour ago. You torment him too much."
"This time was unintentional," Matsumoto said, reluctantly released Ohno and slid off the bed to prepare for work.
--
"Director, I promise to do my best tomorrow so please don't leave me hanging today," Aiba pleaded an hour later, following at his heels with a cup of his hot coffee in hand.
"What's tomorrow?" Matsumoto asked absently as they walked through the floor and past his secretary's desk to his office door.
Aiba hesitated and stuttered for a moment. "It's the day you take off every year."
Matsumoto's hand paused briefly on the door knob. He had done everything to forget, but every year, that was impossible. Reluctantly, he flung open his office door and it swung wide to reveal his desk overloaded with gifts wrapped in fancy, multi-colored wrapping and elaborate bouquets.
Matsumoto turned to face his secretary who appeared sorrowful despite the occasion. He expected no less. Aiba had worked for him for too long and although theirs was a rough relationship, Aiba knew more about him than he often let on.
"Happy birthday, Director," Aiba said quietly, without his usual enthusiasm.
"Thank you," Matsumoto answered as quietly. He took the coffee from his secretary's hand and confined himself inside his office.
He removed all presents from his desk and started his work day zealously.
--
In the afternoon, during his lunch break, Ohno stopped by his office. Interrupting the industrious frenzy he had thrown himself into, Ohno pulled his chair out from underneath his desk, sat in his lap and embraced him. His arms clung loosely around Matsumoto's neck.
Comforted by the contact, Matsumoto carefully wrapped his arms around his best friend. "I'm okay already," he hoped to assure his friend and himself. "You're here with me."
Ohno nodded. "Soon, tomorrow will become the past."
Matsumoto held him for a few moments more. Then Ohno slid off his lap, situated himself across the room in his usual armchair and began to meticulously peel off the wrappers from Matsumoto's presents. He left the expensive gifts alone and instead focused on folding the bright wrappers into triangular shapes.
Eventually, Matsumoto distracted himself by joining him. The familiar nature of folding cleared his mind for the time being.
--
In the late evening, Aiba dropped in to give him his daily mail. "That's all for today, director," he said. "Do you need anything else?" He glanced at the opened presents and the pile of wrappers folded beautifully in triangles on his employer's desk.
Matsumoto left his secretary's question unanswered. He reached for the mail and shifted through them until he came upon Itou's letter. He opened it and quickly scanned the contents. Afterwards, he reread the letter a second time and slowly. When he finished, he carefully set the letter aside.
He shifted through the mail again and reached for the last one in the pile, a rare surprise from Cherry Sky Enterprise. After he pulled the card from its envelope, his lips parted slightly. "What is this?" he demanded.
Aiba flushed. "I thought it would be okay."
Ohno's hands left his folded wrapper and he worriedly looked up. He concentrated on the card in Matsumoto's hand.
Ignoring Aiba, Matsumoto curled his hand around the invitation and dropped his head onto his desk. His despondent reaction took his secretary by surprise and when Aiba tried to speak again, he murmured, "Get out."
"I'm sorry," Aiba apologized without knowing as to why.
"Get out!" Matsumoto shouted.
Agitated, Aiba bit his lip and shuffled out.
"Jun," Ohno called from across the room.
"I told you. Everyone leaves in the end," Matsumoto declared, crumbled the invitation into a ball in his fist and threw it onto the floor.
--
Without packing a single thing, he called his driver and pilot. He did not give Ohno a single explanation and boarded the jet plane with his friend.
"What about Sakurai?" Ohno asked as it took off from the airport towards the countryside. "You're supposed to meet with him tonight."
"It doesn't matter," Matsumoto replied listlessly in his seat.
"Are we running away again, Jun?" Ohno inquired. "I thought something would change."
"Nothing changes," Matsumoto said. "Tomorrow is the day I lost everything. Today it arrived sooner."
"That's not true, Jun," Ohno said.
Matsumoto spoke monotonously, "I never bothered to ask Sakurai why he was desperate enough to follow me to my home, only to keep me at arm's length in the end. I should have asked. After all, he gave me a time limit."
In the seat beside him, Ohno took Matsumoto's hand and gently laid it on his rounded cheek. "But Jun, did you try to hold on to him?"
Matsumoto blinked rapidly to keep away the blurry images, his gaze still directed out the small window. He watched the dark sky and glittering city below. "My loss doesn't end, Satoshi," he said, his fingers fallen sluggishly on Ohno's cheek. "It never does."
Ohno bit his shaking lower lip and covered his eyes with his other hand.
--
His return had been so abrupt that when Matsumoto reached his family estate, the dozen of servants that had come out to greet him were sleepy and barely standing upright. Matsumoto stepped out of the vehicle and stood in the courtyard, squinting at the bright red manor in the fiery, early dawn.
Itou, more awake than the rest and smartly attired, came down the staircase and bowed. "Welcome home, Master Jun," he said.
Ohno stepped up beside the ominously silent Matsumoto and took his hand. He entwined their fingers and scanned the line of servants. Like usual, Ninomiya was absent. Matsumoto did not comment, but Ohno guessed his unspoken question.
"Listen, Jun. Nino had nothing, that's why Itou brought him here," Ohno said. "It was so he had you at least. You ran from here to the city, from the city to here, and back and forth. One day, you have to stop running. Truly, you have never lost everything, but one day you just might." He pulled apart their hands and stepped away from Matsumoto's side. "When you hurt yourself, Jun, you also hurt me."
Despairingly, Ohno turned and walked from him towards the long driveway.
--
Matsumoto dragged himself to his quarters. Too many jumbled thoughts clogged his mind and as exhausted as he felt, sleep remained distant.
When he reached his room, he saw a lump under the covers of his bed. He stood by the end of the bed a moment before he climbed in beside the person. He knew, without pulling the covers up, who hid beneath it.
"Nino," Matsumoto called as he shifted underneath the blanket and his knee touched warm skin. "Nino, are you still afraid to sleep?"
Ninomiya's muffled voice answered haltingly, "When I opened my eyes, everyone disappeared."
After a slight hesitation, Matsumoto curled himself around the small body and allowed himself to treasure the armful of warmth for the first time. "I'm here, Nino," he said, realizing it himself as he spoke. "And Satoshi is, too."
"Tomorrow or the day after, you'll be gone," Ninomiya replied with knowledge of past instances. "But that’s okay, my lord. Even if the bed grows cold, I'm satisfied that you were once here."
Matsumoto heard the painful note in his voice and felt it deep in his gut. He couldn't refute it. Unable to contain the swelling ache, he squeezed shut his eyes and cleared his previously cluttered mind of everything but the warmth of his steward.
He thought he wouldn't be able to sleep, but eventually, it overcame him. His sleep was deep and dreamless. He slept so thoroughly that when he awoke, the sun was already setting. Ninomiya was no longer by his side and neither had Ohno come to stay beside him. Matsumoto felt bereft and a ringing solitude.
After having succumbed to his prolonged, self-denied yearning of countless years, the subsequent void felt all the more barren. He finally understood, if only a little, what Ohno meant by losing completely everything.
--
An hour before midnight, Aiba called him on the only working landline phone. Distressed and guilt-laden, Aiba told him, "Sakurai took a flight this afternoon. If he hasn't reached there, then he might be lost. I'm so sorry, director. I couldn't stop him. As Mr. Ninomiya directed last time, I sent the helicopters. They'll be there in four hours."
Suppressing his primary shock and the worry that shook him, Matsumoto went to wait in his study. Neither Ohno nor Ninomiya appeared to assuage his fears. After a quarter of an hour of waiting that seemed like infinity, Itou entered his room and intruded on his circular, chaotic thoughts. "Where is Nino?" he asked immediately. "Why isn't he here?"
Itou looked apologetic as he stated, "Master Kazunari took a flashlight and went out to search for Master Sakurai."
Matsumoto slammed a fist down on his desk. His anger evaporated as quick as it had come and after his initial outburst, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes wearily. "Why today of all days does he decide to be a hero?"
"Today is an ominous day," Itou repeated the reason Ninomiya had given him.
It terrified Matsumoto that he understood those sentiments completely. Today was the awful day that he wanted to forget more than anything and it was only beginning. With more than three hours left until a search party arrived, his fears worsened. He stood from his desk. "Get me a flashlight, Itou," he commanded and went to his dressing room to grab a jacket.
--
The brilliant full moon, sprinkle of winking stars and the white beam from his flashlight did not give him sufficient light to move through the forest. It was especially frustrating since he was on a search, but as he trudged on despite the terrible darkness, he remembered that night many years ago when by his own willpower, he had found his way to the beach without so much as a light. He had only been a mere child then. Even Sakurai, who had come for the first time the last time, had survived this.
Carried by that same will and overcoming his fear of wild creatures, Matsumoto wandered through the forest for the next hour, whispering Sakurai and Ninomiya's name.
When his legs grew tired, he sat among gnarled tree roots and dense bushes. As fruitless as his search was and as ghastly the look of nature in the night, he couldn't regret coming out to search himself. His only regret was not waiting for Ohno.
"I'm completely alone now, aren't I?" he said to himself as he stared at the beam of white light from his flashlight and the drowning darkness beyond. "It's lonely."
The sound of a few twigs breaking and shuffling of grass behind him drew his attention. He shot to his feet and pointed his flashlight. "Nino? Sakurai?" he called softly.
Matsumoto walked towards the direction of the noise. He was drawn into the darkness. As if pulled by an invisible rope, he continued on the pathless route. He walked for what seemed hours before the dense trees lessened and he walked out onto the beach. Endless white sand stretched before him. The waves soared and crashed down on the sand and rocks. In the distance, he saw a figure.
Matsumoto advanced. As he neared, the person saw him and stood to wait. Just a few meters away, Matsumoto stopped. In the full moonlight and the starry night sky behind him, Sakurai was the image of a prince from a fairytale. Like their first meeting, he was so beautiful that he stole Matsumoto's breath away. But unlike that time, Matsumoto was overcome with a mixture of contrasting emotions.
"Whether I want to end up here or not," Sakurai broke the silence between them, "the forest spirits always lead me this way."
"Why did you come?" Matsumoto asked bluntly. "I stood you up. The last time I forgave you, but this time I don't want you here."
"I had to explain," Sakurai began.
"You don't have to," Matsumoto cut in. "When I received your wedding invitation, I understood everything."
"It's not that simple.” Sakurai stated. "Last time and this time, I chased after you even though it's not what I usually do. Because I had to confirm that it didn't have to be that way. Perhaps, if I tried, I could be someone else. Maybe I didn't have to follow what others had decided for me or what I thought was best for me. I had one chance, and although I felt insecure and rejected you once, I had to try and follow my feelings."
Matsumoto's tenacity wavered. To control his anguish, he looked away from Sakurai towards the black, crashing waves. "You gave us a time limit. Even if you say otherwise, you're getting married anyway, Sakurai, so why are you here?"
Sakurai turned and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't know what to do. Can't you understand?"
Matsumoto did understand. As Sakurai had once said, they carried burdens. Sakurai's dutifulness towards his obligations was one among many reasons that connected them. But if they were made for each other, then their similarities and differences also pulled them apart.
"We're both fools," Matsumoto realized. "Ours was a parade of indecision. What you and I want, what we deny ourselves, what we have to do and force ourselves to do; in the end, for whatever path we choose, we conjure a number of reasons and excuses to pave our way. It only shows our inconsistency."
"But at least I tried for us," Sakurai said and in his desperation, he grabbed Matsumoto by his collar. "Have you really?"
He didn't, Matsumoto knew, or not in a way that mattered. Ohno was right. Ohno was always right.
Frustrated by his silence, Sakurai shoved Matsumoto back.
Matsumoto reeled. He had never felt as worthless and undeserving as that moment. He was ashamed of what he truly was.
Angered by his passive acceptance, Sakurai clenched his hands into fists by his side.
From the forest edge Ninomiya ran forward and stepped in between them. "Please, don't!" he shouted.
Both Matsumoto and Sakurai took his sudden appearance in stride. With Ninomiya's interruption, Sakurai controlled his vicious impulses, but his anger and frustration remained.
Ninomiya bowed his head. "My lord does love you, Sakurai, even if he's afraid to say it. If you love him too, please, acknowledge his faults and fears."
"How can I when he doesn't say anything?" Sakurai demanded.
Matsumoto remained silent and downcast, offering no voice to the argument.
Ninomiya's eyes flashed with determination. "Then I can tell you," he said. "I know."
Matsumoto heard a distressed wail from behind him. He turned swiftly and scanned the beach. The echoes of Ohno's wordless cries carried across the distance. Without a second thought, he raced towards the overhanging cliff and its lone tree.
Furious that he seemed to be running away, Sakurai started after him and Ninomiya followed.
Ohno's tearful cries grew louder as Matsumoto neared the cliff. He trudged up to the base of the tree where the cries began. The woeful sounds of his best friend tore at him and Matsumoto clutched at his painful chest. He fell to his knees. Using his flashlight, he dug at the base of the tree.
Arriving behind him, Sakurai moved forward, but Ninomiya gripped his wrist and stopped him. "Don't."
Matsumoto dug at the ground like a madman, his actions frenzied and insane. He thrust the end of his flashlight into the ground over and again tirelessly.
"This is where my lord buried his heart," Ninomiya murmured as both he and Sakurai watched.
A crater formed in the ground at Matsumoto's knees and before long, a thin and worn, brown paper bag appeared. Matsumoto grasped it and tore it open to reveal a ragged, old teddy bear. He clutched it to his chest. "I won't hurt you anymore," he promised. "So don't leave me."
Limp in Matsumoto's arms, Ohno cried large, red tears.
"Can you see him?" Ninomiya asked.
Sakurai was uncertain of what he asked. He could only see Matsumoto's crouched form.
Ninomiya confessed, "I can't either. But he's here, my lord's best friend, Ohno Satoshi."
"I didn't want to leave you," Ohno said against Matsumoto's shirt. He pressed his palm against Matsumoto's pounding heart. "But I hurt and it didn't stop. I hate when you hurt yourself, Jun. Do you understand now?"
Ninomiya turned towards Sakurai and murmured under his breath, "This is it. Our secret."
Matsumoto turned as if waiting for Sakurai's answer and in the darkness, their gazes met, the white glow of their eyes drawn to the other. Sakurai wished he could understand the reason for the depth in those opposite eyes. He would have accepted everything if he had been here earlier, but he knew this time and place wasn't for him. They did not understand enough about each other.
His hand that had touched Matsumoto mere moments ago throbbed painfully to mirror the same ache inside of him. Fate had always brought him here, so close to Matsumoto's heart yet so far. Sakurai covered his eyes with his arm. His voice trembled as he spoke, "Even then, if Matsumoto asked me to stay, I might have dropped everything for him."
--
The helicopters that arrived in the early morning before dawn departed with Sakurai. Neither Ninomiya nor Itou had been able to convince him to stay.
From the arched window of his study, Matsumoto watched the helicopter that carried Sakurai become a speck in the sky before it vanished. "Perhaps Sakurai was the person meant for me," he said. "If we had been without the faults that hindered us along the way of finding each other, then ours would have been the perfect story."
Curled in the window alcove beside him, Ohno shook his head. "Even then, your stars did not cross, Jun. I told you so. You always had a choice. And you did not tell him to stay."
Matsumoto acknowledged Ohno's words quietly, unconsciously hugging the teddy bear, his only friend that his child self had wanted to give his parents by burying.
"So then, Jun," his best friend began, "who did you decide to hold on to?"
--
Matsumoto found Ninomiya in the garden, crouched before the rose bushes. He advanced and sat beside him uninvited.
"Commander Sakurai loved the roses, my lord," Ninomiya said.
Matsumoto let the comment pass. He cleared his throat and from memory recited, "The rules of How to Worship Matsumoto Jun. Rule number one, if I'm happy, you're happy. Rule number two, always be my ally. Rule number three, believe in me. Rule number four, make me laugh. Rule number five, always compliment me. Rule number six-"
"I can't believe you remember all of that," Ninomiya muttered, mildly embarrassed. He rubbed his nose distractedly. "There are sixteen editions so far and some of the rules I changed over the years. I added new ones, too."
Matsumoto asked, "What rules?"
"I added rule number ten when you left for the city,” Ninomiya said under his breath. "Love. It's been there since the eleventh edition."
Matsumoto didn't think he deserved such unwavering affection. He played with the ring on his index finger. He thought of why he had never allowed himself to contemplate before about why the shy boy from his childhood had changed. He was at fault, and back then, he didn't want to consider what he had done.
On his birthday and the anniversary of his parents' death, a young, crying Matsumoto Jun had pointed his finger at Ninomiya Kazunari, son of the man who had caused his parents' fatal accident, and Matsumoto had blamed Ninomiya for his sadness.
"I'm sorry, Nino," he said. He should have apologized a long time ago.
"It's okay, my lord. I always knew you didn't feel the same way," Ninomiya said. "As long as you're happy, I'm happy."
Matsumoto backtracked their conversation and realized he had answered to Ninomiya's confession. He sighed and rubbed a hand down the left side of his face. This was his chance. For once, he had to not run away.
He squared his shoulders and took another breath. He grasped Ninomiya's arms and turned him for them to face each other. "Tell me the truth, Nino, without all those 'my lords,' rules and plans. Because of me, you put up an act. Today, throw it away. Tell me what you really want."
Ninomiya shook his head.
Matsumoto embraced his childhood friend. Ninomiya went rigid in his arms, but he didn't let go. All those years and he had never so much as held his friend, even if deep in his heart, he had always longed to. This was something he wanted to hold on to. "I'll come back to you, Nino. Always," he said. "I won't make the promise to anyone else. This is what I will make come true."
As Matsumoto's confession sank into him, Ninomiya's stiff body relaxed in his confining arms. He hesitated then said at last, "I'm never happy when you're gone. If I was strong enough I would be, as long as you're happy, but I'm not. Selfishly, I wish you will love me."
Matsumoto squeezed Ninomiya in his arms. "Your wish came true a long time ago."
-- Epilogue August 30th, 201X --
Mastumoto woke to the silence of his apartment. He reached for Ninomiya beside him and touched nothing but his bed and air. He opened one eye and realized he was in the city. He had returned for work just yesterday. Ninomiya refused to leave the estate and he remembered he wouldn't be seeing the latter for another two weeks. Matsumoto sighed his discontent and turned on his other side.
Ogling him with a sweet smile on his face, Ohno's chin rested on the edge of the bed.
Matsumoto jumped back in surprise. He clutched at his racing heart as Ohno stood and giggled. "Satoshi," Matsumoto started in reprimand, but Ohno continued to giggle and he couldn't be angry for long. He smiled and his tone changed. "Welcome back. It's been three months. Where have you been?"
Ohno squeezed himself onto the bed and wrapped his arm around Matsumoto's middle. Instantly, Matsumoto's arm covered him. Ohno nestled into his side and sighed contentedly. "I went to find the person that caused Aiba to fall."
"So did you find him?" Matsumoto asked.
Ohno grunted and replied, "Almost."
Matsumoto pulled Ohno closer to his body and pressed his lips to the top of his best friend's head. "Will you be leaving again then?"
Ohno smiled sleepily. "Do you miss me?"
"Of course," Matsumoto answered immediately. "When you disappeared for three months, I was afraid something had happened to you. What if you don't come back next time?"
Ohno stretched and pulled himself up to kiss Matsumoto chastely on the lips. "That's foolish, Jun," he said.
"How so?" Matsumoto inquired.
"You gave me life," Ohno said and kissed his temple. "I promised when we met. I'll always be with you to your very last breath."
Back in the city, Sakurai and Matsumoto separated at the airport. They had their own business to attend to and with a promise to meet, they reluctantly parted ways in professional conduct.
Matsumoto fell into his old routine as soon as he returned to health the day after. He had his flustered secretary run about meeting and greeting colleagues and business partners, organizing and passing along official documents, and filling his schedule with luncheons and dinner parties. Only a few days away and Matsumoto felt that he was imminently behind. He pushed and pulled himself and his secretary along to catch up.
Quite flabbergasted, his secretary tearfully told him after a week of an overwhelming workload, "I feel nauseous, director."
They were in Matsumoto's office. Idling in an armchair across the room in his usual spot, Ohno whispered, "Mr. Secretary is panicked and distressed, just like how Nino says it is."
Matsumoto unintentionally repeated it out loud.
His secretary threw him one of his rare, dark looks. "I wish you wouldn't perpetuate that nickname, director," he bemoaned. "I have introduced myself to Mr. Ninomiya so many times, but he refuses to remember my name."
"Sorry," Matsumoto apologized.
Much exasperated, Aiba Masaki left the office.
As the door closed behind him, Ohno sighed from his armchair. "Aiba's a star that fell from the sky, Jun. Did you know that?"
Playing along with him, Matsumoto asked, "And why did he fall from the sky?"
Ohno rocked back in his seat. "He was a wishing star, but when he loved someone and conceptualized his own wish, he fell. Sadly, his wish did not come true and he cannot find the person he loved."
"How tragic," Matsumoto said without much interest and resumed his work.
A few minutes later, just as he was about to become engrossed, his private phone beeped with a distracting message. Matsumoto took a look at it and saw that the following was from Sakurai.
Eagerly, he opened the message and read an invitation to dinner written in Sakurai's rigid and formal style. He reached for his office phone and connected to his secretary's desk.
Ohno watched him with curiosity.
"Aiba, cancel my plans tonight. I have something important to do," he said.
"B-but-" Aiba started.
"I'm busy," Matsumoto emphasized and hung up.
Ohno pursed his lips in thought. "Maybe you should give Aiba a pat on the back, Jun. I think he deserves it."
"I'll remember to," Matsumoto promised.
--
When Matsumoto arrived at the restaurant Sakurai and he had agreed on, he expected Sakurai to be inside, waiting for him at their table. But on the third floor lobby, he found the latter leaning against a wall opposite the entrance. There was no waiter outside to direct them in.
Sakurai saw him and stowed his smart-phone away.
"Are we waiting for an open table?" Matsumoto asked, surprised that Sakurai had not called ahead to reserve a table for them. With their reputation, they could get inside even in the most crowded places with no worry.
"That's not it. I had an important phone call and I wanted to take it out here," Sakurai explained. He led the way back inside to a table near the windows that had been set for them.
Matsumoto took the seat opposite him and grabbed the menu. He flipped through it. Silence fell in between them and when he glanced at his partner, Sakurai was focused on the menu with an intent that seemed unnatural.
Despite the air-conditioned interior, Matsumoto could literally see the sweat on Sakurai's brow. He noticed he wasn't as collected as he thought he was either because his own hands felt clammy. He had not realized how difficult it would be for the both of them to meet again so casually. It seemed the city was different from the wild countryside where their easy camaraderie had been established. In the city, they had to start over.
"Are you feeling better?" Sakurai asked to fill the silence.
Matsumoto set his menu down. He leaned back in his seat and observed Sakurai.
After a few passing seconds, flustered by the attention, Sakurai set his menu aside as well and met his eyes. "We can pretend that nothing happened," Sakurai said, "that we didn't sleep together, that I didn't follow you to your private home and that we didn't part at the airport with a little regret," With each spoken word, his innate stubbornness strengthened his resolve and he added, "We can make sure that we remain business partners and perhaps, we could be friends."
"That's not how it is. We're not youths on a first date," Matsumoto clarified. "It shouldn't have to be so difficult to understand and decide what we want."
"But that's not true," Sakurai murmured and cast down his eyes. "It's different now. It's because we're not children that we have obligations; to society and to our futures."
"Then why did you invite me out, Sakurai?" Matsumoto asked, leaning forward to watch him closely. Maybe they were not the same people as they were back in the countryside. Perhaps, outside that sphere, they couldn't even be friends. He wanted to know what Sakurai thought.
"I followed you to your private home," Sakurai began slowly, deliberating every word, "because I thought that if I only had one chance, one opportunity to turn it around, I had to take it despite my insecurities and anything else that stood in my way. For the time being, I would be someone else."
His words left Matsumoto unexpectedly winded. Sakurai and he were so alike and yet at the same time so different. Along with admiration, his lust for the man before him hit him so strongly that he grasped the edge of the table. "I want to sleep with you again," he stated flatly, breaking the flow of their earlier conversation.
Shock replaced Sakurai's calm expression. He overcame it and smiled thinly. "Are you not afraid I will walk out again?"
"Then be someone else," Matsumoto replied. "And this time, don't leave me."
"I cannot promise you forever," Sakurai said. "But in the present, I want what you want."
--
Matsumoto awoke with Sakurai snoring lightly by his side. He released a breath of relief. Despite his self-assurances, he hadn't known how afraid he was that Sakurai would walk out again. None of his previous night past times had stayed, but with Sakurai, it was different.
Matsumoto pushed back a curl on Sakurai's forehead, watched him sleep for a moment longer then carefully climbed out of the hotel bed. He pulled on his briefs and trousers, and planning to return to bed later, he left them unbuttoned. As quiet as possible, he opened the sliding glass doors to the veranda and stepped out.
In the open, Matsumoto took a sweet breath of the summer night air. Beyond, the city lights glittered in the semi-darkness. He leaned on his hands and wondered if someone else far away was sleeping peacefully.
"Director."
Matsumoto turned and saw behind him, inside the room, Sakurai had woken.
Sitting upright in bed with the comforter wrapped around his middle, hiding his complete nakedness, Sakurai rubbed his face sleepily. "Director," he called again. "Are you leaving?" His hand fell from his face and the fear in his eyes was apparent.
Matsumoto thought that perhaps, Sakurai and he held the same worries. "No," he said and returned inside. He slid the glass doors closed behind him and pulled the curtain back into place, swamping both of them in complete darkness. Matsumoto undressed and climbed back into bed. He felt for Sakurai and pressed light kisses on every inch of bare skin he could get a hold of.
--
They spent many nights thereafter together, and woke in each other's company. Beyond their initial conversation, neither of them discussed whatever it was they had between them. At least for the time being, when they were together, they were content enough with what they might have.
On a similar morning, Matsumoto suggested a different hotel room for that following night as always.
This time, Sakurai hesitated instead of instantly complying.
"What's wrong?" Matsumoto asked while combing his hair back and fixing his jacket. He would stop by in his apartment before going to the office. But he couldn't go out looking ragged first thing in the morning.
Sakurai had just finished his shower and was idly touching his silk tie on the bed. He could not look Matsumoto in the eye when he said, "I will meet you later, Matsumoto."
Reading the mood, Matsumoto's hands on his jacket stalled. The concern that was always lurking at the back of his mind in the preceding weeks returned. "Are we over already? So soon?" He was serious but he said it half-jokingly.
Sakurai chuckled, but it wasn't a joyous sound. "I don't know," he said. "You make it seem like a bad thing."
It did not assuage Matsumoto's fears a bit. He always knew a temporary understanding had a time limit. In fact, Sakurai never promised him anything.
---
Matsumoto's bed dipped and a small body snuggled against his side. He knew it was none other than Ohno. No one else had access into his apartment and no one, not even Sakurai, would touch him so comfortably. He turned and wrapped his arm around his familiar friend. "Is it my fault?" he asked without preamble.
Ohno, who somehow always knew the thoughts on his mind and the fluctuations of his heart, replied, "If you want to hold on to him, for once in your life, you have to try, Jun. It's never too late. Not for Sakurai and neither for Nino."
Matsumoto opened his eyes and looked into the face of his best friend who stared softly back at him mere centimeters away. "Everyone leaves me eventually," he said.
"Not me, Jun," Ohno murmured and gently cupped Matsumoto's face. "I made you the promise. So for the first time, you have to make a promise too; to the person you want to keep. I told you once, didn't I? The stars don't cross. Not for you."
But Matsumoto was afraid, as he always had been.
In the subsequent contemplative silence, his personal phone rang.
Ohno said, "That's Aiba. He's been trying to get a hold of you since an hour ago. You torment him too much."
"This time was unintentional," Matsumoto said, reluctantly released Ohno and slid off the bed to prepare for work.
--
"Director, I promise to do my best tomorrow so please don't leave me hanging today," Aiba pleaded an hour later, following at his heels with a cup of his hot coffee in hand.
"What's tomorrow?" Matsumoto asked absently as they walked through the floor and past his secretary's desk to his office door.
Aiba hesitated and stuttered for a moment. "It's the day you take off every year."
Matsumoto's hand paused briefly on the door knob. He had done everything to forget, but every year, that was impossible. Reluctantly, he flung open his office door and it swung wide to reveal his desk overloaded with gifts wrapped in fancy, multi-colored wrapping and elaborate bouquets.
Matsumoto turned to face his secretary who appeared sorrowful despite the occasion. He expected no less. Aiba had worked for him for too long and although theirs was a rough relationship, Aiba knew more about him than he often let on.
"Happy birthday, Director," Aiba said quietly, without his usual enthusiasm.
"Thank you," Matsumoto answered as quietly. He took the coffee from his secretary's hand and confined himself inside his office.
He removed all presents from his desk and started his work day zealously.
--
In the afternoon, during his lunch break, Ohno stopped by his office. Interrupting the industrious frenzy he had thrown himself into, Ohno pulled his chair out from underneath his desk, sat in his lap and embraced him. His arms clung loosely around Matsumoto's neck.
Comforted by the contact, Matsumoto carefully wrapped his arms around his best friend. "I'm okay already," he hoped to assure his friend and himself. "You're here with me."
Ohno nodded. "Soon, tomorrow will become the past."
Matsumoto held him for a few moments more. Then Ohno slid off his lap, situated himself across the room in his usual armchair and began to meticulously peel off the wrappers from Matsumoto's presents. He left the expensive gifts alone and instead focused on folding the bright wrappers into triangular shapes.
Eventually, Matsumoto distracted himself by joining him. The familiar nature of folding cleared his mind for the time being.
--
In the late evening, Aiba dropped in to give him his daily mail. "That's all for today, director," he said. "Do you need anything else?" He glanced at the opened presents and the pile of wrappers folded beautifully in triangles on his employer's desk.
Matsumoto left his secretary's question unanswered. He reached for the mail and shifted through them until he came upon Itou's letter. He opened it and quickly scanned the contents. Afterwards, he reread the letter a second time and slowly. When he finished, he carefully set the letter aside.
He shifted through the mail again and reached for the last one in the pile, a rare surprise from Cherry Sky Enterprise. After he pulled the card from its envelope, his lips parted slightly. "What is this?" he demanded.
Aiba flushed. "I thought it would be okay."
Ohno's hands left his folded wrapper and he worriedly looked up. He concentrated on the card in Matsumoto's hand.
Ignoring Aiba, Matsumoto curled his hand around the invitation and dropped his head onto his desk. His despondent reaction took his secretary by surprise and when Aiba tried to speak again, he murmured, "Get out."
"I'm sorry," Aiba apologized without knowing as to why.
"Get out!" Matsumoto shouted.
Agitated, Aiba bit his lip and shuffled out.
"Jun," Ohno called from across the room.
"I told you. Everyone leaves in the end," Matsumoto declared, crumbled the invitation into a ball in his fist and threw it onto the floor.
--
Without packing a single thing, he called his driver and pilot. He did not give Ohno a single explanation and boarded the jet plane with his friend.
"What about Sakurai?" Ohno asked as it took off from the airport towards the countryside. "You're supposed to meet with him tonight."
"It doesn't matter," Matsumoto replied listlessly in his seat.
"Are we running away again, Jun?" Ohno inquired. "I thought something would change."
"Nothing changes," Matsumoto said. "Tomorrow is the day I lost everything. Today it arrived sooner."
"That's not true, Jun," Ohno said.
Matsumoto spoke monotonously, "I never bothered to ask Sakurai why he was desperate enough to follow me to my home, only to keep me at arm's length in the end. I should have asked. After all, he gave me a time limit."
In the seat beside him, Ohno took Matsumoto's hand and gently laid it on his rounded cheek. "But Jun, did you try to hold on to him?"
Matsumoto blinked rapidly to keep away the blurry images, his gaze still directed out the small window. He watched the dark sky and glittering city below. "My loss doesn't end, Satoshi," he said, his fingers fallen sluggishly on Ohno's cheek. "It never does."
Ohno bit his shaking lower lip and covered his eyes with his other hand.
--
His return had been so abrupt that when Matsumoto reached his family estate, the dozen of servants that had come out to greet him were sleepy and barely standing upright. Matsumoto stepped out of the vehicle and stood in the courtyard, squinting at the bright red manor in the fiery, early dawn.
Itou, more awake than the rest and smartly attired, came down the staircase and bowed. "Welcome home, Master Jun," he said.
Ohno stepped up beside the ominously silent Matsumoto and took his hand. He entwined their fingers and scanned the line of servants. Like usual, Ninomiya was absent. Matsumoto did not comment, but Ohno guessed his unspoken question.
"Listen, Jun. Nino had nothing, that's why Itou brought him here," Ohno said. "It was so he had you at least. You ran from here to the city, from the city to here, and back and forth. One day, you have to stop running. Truly, you have never lost everything, but one day you just might." He pulled apart their hands and stepped away from Matsumoto's side. "When you hurt yourself, Jun, you also hurt me."
Despairingly, Ohno turned and walked from him towards the long driveway.
--
Matsumoto dragged himself to his quarters. Too many jumbled thoughts clogged his mind and as exhausted as he felt, sleep remained distant.
When he reached his room, he saw a lump under the covers of his bed. He stood by the end of the bed a moment before he climbed in beside the person. He knew, without pulling the covers up, who hid beneath it.
"Nino," Matsumoto called as he shifted underneath the blanket and his knee touched warm skin. "Nino, are you still afraid to sleep?"
Ninomiya's muffled voice answered haltingly, "When I opened my eyes, everyone disappeared."
After a slight hesitation, Matsumoto curled himself around the small body and allowed himself to treasure the armful of warmth for the first time. "I'm here, Nino," he said, realizing it himself as he spoke. "And Satoshi is, too."
"Tomorrow or the day after, you'll be gone," Ninomiya replied with knowledge of past instances. "But that’s okay, my lord. Even if the bed grows cold, I'm satisfied that you were once here."
Matsumoto heard the painful note in his voice and felt it deep in his gut. He couldn't refute it. Unable to contain the swelling ache, he squeezed shut his eyes and cleared his previously cluttered mind of everything but the warmth of his steward.
He thought he wouldn't be able to sleep, but eventually, it overcame him. His sleep was deep and dreamless. He slept so thoroughly that when he awoke, the sun was already setting. Ninomiya was no longer by his side and neither had Ohno come to stay beside him. Matsumoto felt bereft and a ringing solitude.
After having succumbed to his prolonged, self-denied yearning of countless years, the subsequent void felt all the more barren. He finally understood, if only a little, what Ohno meant by losing completely everything.
--
An hour before midnight, Aiba called him on the only working landline phone. Distressed and guilt-laden, Aiba told him, "Sakurai took a flight this afternoon. If he hasn't reached there, then he might be lost. I'm so sorry, director. I couldn't stop him. As Mr. Ninomiya directed last time, I sent the helicopters. They'll be there in four hours."
Suppressing his primary shock and the worry that shook him, Matsumoto went to wait in his study. Neither Ohno nor Ninomiya appeared to assuage his fears. After a quarter of an hour of waiting that seemed like infinity, Itou entered his room and intruded on his circular, chaotic thoughts. "Where is Nino?" he asked immediately. "Why isn't he here?"
Itou looked apologetic as he stated, "Master Kazunari took a flashlight and went out to search for Master Sakurai."
Matsumoto slammed a fist down on his desk. His anger evaporated as quick as it had come and after his initial outburst, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes wearily. "Why today of all days does he decide to be a hero?"
"Today is an ominous day," Itou repeated the reason Ninomiya had given him.
It terrified Matsumoto that he understood those sentiments completely. Today was the awful day that he wanted to forget more than anything and it was only beginning. With more than three hours left until a search party arrived, his fears worsened. He stood from his desk. "Get me a flashlight, Itou," he commanded and went to his dressing room to grab a jacket.
--
The brilliant full moon, sprinkle of winking stars and the white beam from his flashlight did not give him sufficient light to move through the forest. It was especially frustrating since he was on a search, but as he trudged on despite the terrible darkness, he remembered that night many years ago when by his own willpower, he had found his way to the beach without so much as a light. He had only been a mere child then. Even Sakurai, who had come for the first time the last time, had survived this.
Carried by that same will and overcoming his fear of wild creatures, Matsumoto wandered through the forest for the next hour, whispering Sakurai and Ninomiya's name.
When his legs grew tired, he sat among gnarled tree roots and dense bushes. As fruitless as his search was and as ghastly the look of nature in the night, he couldn't regret coming out to search himself. His only regret was not waiting for Ohno.
"I'm completely alone now, aren't I?" he said to himself as he stared at the beam of white light from his flashlight and the drowning darkness beyond. "It's lonely."
The sound of a few twigs breaking and shuffling of grass behind him drew his attention. He shot to his feet and pointed his flashlight. "Nino? Sakurai?" he called softly.
Matsumoto walked towards the direction of the noise. He was drawn into the darkness. As if pulled by an invisible rope, he continued on the pathless route. He walked for what seemed hours before the dense trees lessened and he walked out onto the beach. Endless white sand stretched before him. The waves soared and crashed down on the sand and rocks. In the distance, he saw a figure.
Matsumoto advanced. As he neared, the person saw him and stood to wait. Just a few meters away, Matsumoto stopped. In the full moonlight and the starry night sky behind him, Sakurai was the image of a prince from a fairytale. Like their first meeting, he was so beautiful that he stole Matsumoto's breath away. But unlike that time, Matsumoto was overcome with a mixture of contrasting emotions.
"Whether I want to end up here or not," Sakurai broke the silence between them, "the forest spirits always lead me this way."
"Why did you come?" Matsumoto asked bluntly. "I stood you up. The last time I forgave you, but this time I don't want you here."
"I had to explain," Sakurai began.
"You don't have to," Matsumoto cut in. "When I received your wedding invitation, I understood everything."
"It's not that simple.” Sakurai stated. "Last time and this time, I chased after you even though it's not what I usually do. Because I had to confirm that it didn't have to be that way. Perhaps, if I tried, I could be someone else. Maybe I didn't have to follow what others had decided for me or what I thought was best for me. I had one chance, and although I felt insecure and rejected you once, I had to try and follow my feelings."
Matsumoto's tenacity wavered. To control his anguish, he looked away from Sakurai towards the black, crashing waves. "You gave us a time limit. Even if you say otherwise, you're getting married anyway, Sakurai, so why are you here?"
Sakurai turned and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't know what to do. Can't you understand?"
Matsumoto did understand. As Sakurai had once said, they carried burdens. Sakurai's dutifulness towards his obligations was one among many reasons that connected them. But if they were made for each other, then their similarities and differences also pulled them apart.
"We're both fools," Matsumoto realized. "Ours was a parade of indecision. What you and I want, what we deny ourselves, what we have to do and force ourselves to do; in the end, for whatever path we choose, we conjure a number of reasons and excuses to pave our way. It only shows our inconsistency."
"But at least I tried for us," Sakurai said and in his desperation, he grabbed Matsumoto by his collar. "Have you really?"
He didn't, Matsumoto knew, or not in a way that mattered. Ohno was right. Ohno was always right.
Frustrated by his silence, Sakurai shoved Matsumoto back.
Matsumoto reeled. He had never felt as worthless and undeserving as that moment. He was ashamed of what he truly was.
Angered by his passive acceptance, Sakurai clenched his hands into fists by his side.
From the forest edge Ninomiya ran forward and stepped in between them. "Please, don't!" he shouted.
Both Matsumoto and Sakurai took his sudden appearance in stride. With Ninomiya's interruption, Sakurai controlled his vicious impulses, but his anger and frustration remained.
Ninomiya bowed his head. "My lord does love you, Sakurai, even if he's afraid to say it. If you love him too, please, acknowledge his faults and fears."
"How can I when he doesn't say anything?" Sakurai demanded.
Matsumoto remained silent and downcast, offering no voice to the argument.
Ninomiya's eyes flashed with determination. "Then I can tell you," he said. "I know."
Matsumoto heard a distressed wail from behind him. He turned swiftly and scanned the beach. The echoes of Ohno's wordless cries carried across the distance. Without a second thought, he raced towards the overhanging cliff and its lone tree.
Furious that he seemed to be running away, Sakurai started after him and Ninomiya followed.
Ohno's tearful cries grew louder as Matsumoto neared the cliff. He trudged up to the base of the tree where the cries began. The woeful sounds of his best friend tore at him and Matsumoto clutched at his painful chest. He fell to his knees. Using his flashlight, he dug at the base of the tree.
Arriving behind him, Sakurai moved forward, but Ninomiya gripped his wrist and stopped him. "Don't."
Matsumoto dug at the ground like a madman, his actions frenzied and insane. He thrust the end of his flashlight into the ground over and again tirelessly.
"This is where my lord buried his heart," Ninomiya murmured as both he and Sakurai watched.
A crater formed in the ground at Matsumoto's knees and before long, a thin and worn, brown paper bag appeared. Matsumoto grasped it and tore it open to reveal a ragged, old teddy bear. He clutched it to his chest. "I won't hurt you anymore," he promised. "So don't leave me."
Limp in Matsumoto's arms, Ohno cried large, red tears.
"Can you see him?" Ninomiya asked.
Sakurai was uncertain of what he asked. He could only see Matsumoto's crouched form.
Ninomiya confessed, "I can't either. But he's here, my lord's best friend, Ohno Satoshi."
"I didn't want to leave you," Ohno said against Matsumoto's shirt. He pressed his palm against Matsumoto's pounding heart. "But I hurt and it didn't stop. I hate when you hurt yourself, Jun. Do you understand now?"
Ninomiya turned towards Sakurai and murmured under his breath, "This is it. Our secret."
Matsumoto turned as if waiting for Sakurai's answer and in the darkness, their gazes met, the white glow of their eyes drawn to the other. Sakurai wished he could understand the reason for the depth in those opposite eyes. He would have accepted everything if he had been here earlier, but he knew this time and place wasn't for him. They did not understand enough about each other.
His hand that had touched Matsumoto mere moments ago throbbed painfully to mirror the same ache inside of him. Fate had always brought him here, so close to Matsumoto's heart yet so far. Sakurai covered his eyes with his arm. His voice trembled as he spoke, "Even then, if Matsumoto asked me to stay, I might have dropped everything for him."
--
The helicopters that arrived in the early morning before dawn departed with Sakurai. Neither Ninomiya nor Itou had been able to convince him to stay.
From the arched window of his study, Matsumoto watched the helicopter that carried Sakurai become a speck in the sky before it vanished. "Perhaps Sakurai was the person meant for me," he said. "If we had been without the faults that hindered us along the way of finding each other, then ours would have been the perfect story."
Curled in the window alcove beside him, Ohno shook his head. "Even then, your stars did not cross, Jun. I told you so. You always had a choice. And you did not tell him to stay."
Matsumoto acknowledged Ohno's words quietly, unconsciously hugging the teddy bear, his only friend that his child self had wanted to give his parents by burying.
"So then, Jun," his best friend began, "who did you decide to hold on to?"
--
Matsumoto found Ninomiya in the garden, crouched before the rose bushes. He advanced and sat beside him uninvited.
"Commander Sakurai loved the roses, my lord," Ninomiya said.
Matsumoto let the comment pass. He cleared his throat and from memory recited, "The rules of How to Worship Matsumoto Jun. Rule number one, if I'm happy, you're happy. Rule number two, always be my ally. Rule number three, believe in me. Rule number four, make me laugh. Rule number five, always compliment me. Rule number six-"
"I can't believe you remember all of that," Ninomiya muttered, mildly embarrassed. He rubbed his nose distractedly. "There are sixteen editions so far and some of the rules I changed over the years. I added new ones, too."
Matsumoto asked, "What rules?"
"I added rule number ten when you left for the city,” Ninomiya said under his breath. "Love. It's been there since the eleventh edition."
Matsumoto didn't think he deserved such unwavering affection. He played with the ring on his index finger. He thought of why he had never allowed himself to contemplate before about why the shy boy from his childhood had changed. He was at fault, and back then, he didn't want to consider what he had done.
On his birthday and the anniversary of his parents' death, a young, crying Matsumoto Jun had pointed his finger at Ninomiya Kazunari, son of the man who had caused his parents' fatal accident, and Matsumoto had blamed Ninomiya for his sadness.
"I'm sorry, Nino," he said. He should have apologized a long time ago.
"It's okay, my lord. I always knew you didn't feel the same way," Ninomiya said. "As long as you're happy, I'm happy."
Matsumoto backtracked their conversation and realized he had answered to Ninomiya's confession. He sighed and rubbed a hand down the left side of his face. This was his chance. For once, he had to not run away.
He squared his shoulders and took another breath. He grasped Ninomiya's arms and turned him for them to face each other. "Tell me the truth, Nino, without all those 'my lords,' rules and plans. Because of me, you put up an act. Today, throw it away. Tell me what you really want."
Ninomiya shook his head.
Matsumoto embraced his childhood friend. Ninomiya went rigid in his arms, but he didn't let go. All those years and he had never so much as held his friend, even if deep in his heart, he had always longed to. This was something he wanted to hold on to. "I'll come back to you, Nino. Always," he said. "I won't make the promise to anyone else. This is what I will make come true."
As Matsumoto's confession sank into him, Ninomiya's stiff body relaxed in his confining arms. He hesitated then said at last, "I'm never happy when you're gone. If I was strong enough I would be, as long as you're happy, but I'm not. Selfishly, I wish you will love me."
Matsumoto squeezed Ninomiya in his arms. "Your wish came true a long time ago."
-- Epilogue August 30th, 201X --
Mastumoto woke to the silence of his apartment. He reached for Ninomiya beside him and touched nothing but his bed and air. He opened one eye and realized he was in the city. He had returned for work just yesterday. Ninomiya refused to leave the estate and he remembered he wouldn't be seeing the latter for another two weeks. Matsumoto sighed his discontent and turned on his other side.
Ogling him with a sweet smile on his face, Ohno's chin rested on the edge of the bed.
Matsumoto jumped back in surprise. He clutched at his racing heart as Ohno stood and giggled. "Satoshi," Matsumoto started in reprimand, but Ohno continued to giggle and he couldn't be angry for long. He smiled and his tone changed. "Welcome back. It's been three months. Where have you been?"
Ohno squeezed himself onto the bed and wrapped his arm around Matsumoto's middle. Instantly, Matsumoto's arm covered him. Ohno nestled into his side and sighed contentedly. "I went to find the person that caused Aiba to fall."
"So did you find him?" Matsumoto asked.
Ohno grunted and replied, "Almost."
Matsumoto pulled Ohno closer to his body and pressed his lips to the top of his best friend's head. "Will you be leaving again then?"
Ohno smiled sleepily. "Do you miss me?"
"Of course," Matsumoto answered immediately. "When you disappeared for three months, I was afraid something had happened to you. What if you don't come back next time?"
Ohno stretched and pulled himself up to kiss Matsumoto chastely on the lips. "That's foolish, Jun," he said.
"How so?" Matsumoto inquired.
"You gave me life," Ohno said and kissed his temple. "I promised when we met. I'll always be with you to your very last breath."