apologies extended to Isabel Coixet.
Map of the Sounds of Tokyo
Robert/Saito, AU, R, prompt: " Robert is the new gaijin employee at Saito's big Tokyo based company. He's intelligent and hardworking, but trying to build a life in a new country amongst the hostility from his co-workers has put a dent in his confidence. He feels isolated and completely alone."
4541 words
--
The Tokyo that awaited him bore no resemblance to the one he had in mind. It was beautiful but only from afar and despite the wealth of culture and people, he often found the city itself to be lacking.
Of course, he was a gaijin, and any notions he might have had of Tokyo were based on travel guides and brochures, romanticized by expectation and fantasy. He was disappointed to find that not every street was lined with sakura and everything from food to housing was unbelievably expensive.
Living on minimum wage impeded his mobility, but he kept his expenses minimal because he couldn't afford to go broke - or homeless - in a city so immense, a city that was constantly evolving it felt like it could sweep him in its current.
*
The first note came on a Tuesday which was, of course, a famously good day for mail. He'd just come back from lunch break and there it was, taped on his monitor, a pink post-it note with the words you should smile more written in english. He didn't think much of it at the time - he knew about the women in his department who were adamant about inviting him to their goukon, who whispered and giggled in groups when he walked past their cubicle and pretended to accidentally bump into him in the elevator - so he crumpled the note and went back to work, opening the first of many documents.
But he tipped his chair back just in case, to peer quietly over his computer, up the rows of identical cubicles that lined the other half of the room.
Nobody spared him a second glance.
*
The next note came a few days later, on a Friday.
The day was off to a bad start - he'd slept through his alarm, was shoved and, much to his horror, fondled by a businessman in the packed train to Shibuya, and as soon as he stepped out of the station, was promptly rained on as the skies unleashed what would be the equivalent of a biblical torrent. He arrived at work an hour late, in a mood as miserable as his state of soddenness.
Yamato-san had been nice enough to stop by his desk and hand him a towel and he'd gratefully accepted it with a half-stuttered word of thanks in Japanese, forgetting all formality and dropping honorific. He found the note later on as he was preparing to leave the building - curled on the carpet where he must've brushed it off in dismissal.
you looked like a wet kitten today, ears flattened down to your head, it said, and his face felt suddenly hot, his stomach tight. He pocketed the note and gathered all his things in a briefcase, turning off his computer and marching out the door.
*
It never really occurred to Robert that he was being watched. A third note found its way inside his desk drawer on Monday: i saw you in yoyogi park this weekend, eating melon bread and looking lonely. And then a fourth, which felt perverse and made his skin feel all too tight: i often think about the warm wetness of your mouth.
He started keeping them, and by the seventh note, started his own private investigation on who the culprit might be.
There was Arthur, from Sales, but then he was so immersed in work he hardly ever looked at or spoke to anyone who wasn't Eames, the department head, who often rankled Arthur by making frequent passes at him. And then there was Yamato-san with his earnest face and neat black hair and the way he often stumbled his way to Robert's cubicle, inquiring his needs.
Robert frowned. He hoped it was none of them.
*
He finally agreed to a goukon. It was, much to his surprise, not as bad as he initially thought it would be - not unlike pulling teeth, no, but a kind of steady pain that, if pressed right, actually felt good. There was an overflowing of beer and several attempts at madcap karaoke. By the end of the evening, Robert had collected quite a few phone numbers, although he constantly found his mind drifting to the notes he'd taped on his refrigerator door. There were ten of them now and he had arranged all of them into neat little columns. Every morning before he left for work, he'd read them while drinking coffee.
It was on his way back when the problems began. He was walking to the train station when he was accosted by two men with baseball bats. From the looks of it, they were still in high school, their gakuran turned up at the collar and their bleached blond hair slicked back haphazardly.
Robert knew what was going to happen if he didn't just give them what they wanted, but today had been pay day and the rent was due tomorrow, and his cupboard was still unstocked and he badly needed a new pair of pants.
So Robert did the only plausible thing he could think of.
He ran.
*
It was almost midnight and the streets betrayed him in that, for the first time since he'd arrived six months ago, they was eerily still and empty, devoid of any people. The shops that lined the street were closed for the evening and a streetlamp in the corner kept flickering on and off. Those high school kids were still behind him in hot pursuit, knocking off trashcans, hissing and spitting for him to come back.
Robert darted through a grove of trees in the park, heart hammering wildly in his throat. His palms were sweating and he kept tripping on his own feet. He scrambled to get back up, whipping his head around to check behind him. They were getting close.
Robert picked himself up in a burst of speed and ran down a narrow alley that opened to a wide street. Cars were sweeping past the avenue, honking their horns. Robert was blinded for a moment, by a bright flash of light, which was the last thing he remembered before passing out.
*
He woke up hungover and disorientated. He was staring up a ceiling that was not his, painted in soft swirls of red and gold.
"I see you've decided to grace the world with your presence."
He shot up quickly, immediately regretting the decision after his head began to pound in a dull ache.
"What happened?" he moaned, clutching his head. It was too bright - too everything. He scrubbed at his eyes before setting his gaze toward the man seated by the bay window, reading a newspaper.
"Where am I?" Robert asked in Japanese. He flushed at his own informality before repeating the question with more respect, ducking his head.
The man by the window merely smiled before setting aside his newspaper. "You are in my home, in my bed," he explained, taking a sip of coffee.
"This looks like a hotel room." Robert observed, ignoring the rising panic in his throat at the thought that this man took him without consent the night before. But if anything, his eyes were kind and the rhythm of his speech soothed the noise between Robert's ears.
"I live here," The man said, chuckling. "I own the hotel. I took you here last night after you nearly collided with my car. There were hooligans after you but rest assured I had them dealt with appropriately."
Robert nodded, vaguely recalling the events last night. There was the goukon where he'd had too much to drink and then there were these two high school kids with bats. And then the loud honk of a car before everything dissolved into pitch black.
Robert was still dressed in the clothes he wore the night before which dispelled any lingering doubts he might've had of this strange man standing by the bedside. He felt flushed and overheated kept under the man's gaze but that could've just been the effect of the alcohol still in his system.
He glanced at his watch, feigning alarm as he tossed the bedsheets aside. "I'll be late for work. I think I have to leave." He found his shoes at the foot of the bed and quickly slipped them on, folding his wrinkled jacket over his arm.
"Thank you for your kindness," he said, bowing. "I appreciate it Mister..."
"Saito." The man smiled, and even through the pound of Robert's headache it was deeply charming.
"Saito-san." Robert repeated, bowing again.
"Saito will do," The man said in english as he chuckled. "And please, let me at least offer you a ride to work."
*
He ended up asking to be driven back to his apartment. He wasn't feeling too good and his stomach kept clenching into itself, flutters of nervousness mostly, coupled with waves of nausea. Saito had a stretch limo bring him back to his apartment. A stretch limo, which made Robert swallow hard against his own tongue as he climbed into the backseat and sank against the soft leather interior. Saito smiled and when he patted Robert on the knee, Robert jerked up in his seat. Saito laughed.
They didn't talk much on the way - Saito was on the phone the entire time although he did make it a point to hang up when they'd arrived and walk Robert up to his door.
And it was bizarre, Robert knew, to expect something to happen then and there. Not that he was, of course, expecting something or anything; the moment simply felt like a story that has run its course, felt like the part where emotional catharsis was expected to take place and something fantastically tremendous was about to unfold.
Saito stood in his breathing space and just as Robert opened his mouth to say something, Saito stepped back and bowed, offering Robert apologies for nearly running him over last night. Then he was climbing down the stairs and Robert was watching him from the railing, walking back towards the car as he took another phonecall.
"Saito-san!" he called after him, waving an arm. "It's Robert by the way! My name is Robert!"
Saito stopped, stunned, turning, pulling his phone away from his ear. Robert felt like pitching himself over the railing and falling to his own death. But then Saito nodded, curt, and smiled softly before turning away again.
After he had driven off, Robert walked back inside to lean heavily against the door. He mentally berated himself for being so foolish before collapsing to his knees, laughing.
*
There were was a vase of white lilies waiting for him on his desk the next day. There was another note, but there was nothing on it but his name. Robert pocketed the note and lowered the vase on the floor where he couldn't accidentally kick it while he was working. He wasn't a big fan of flowers but the gesture was flattering. He tried asking over lunch if anyone had seen someone bring flowers over to his cubicle but no one seemed to be able to give him a straight answer.
Robert brought the lilies home, wrapped in newspapers and tucked under one arm. He was about to step inside his apartment when he felt a hand touch his elbow. He wheeled around, jumping out of his skin, surprised to find Saito standing in the hall, arms raised in a gesture of surrender.
"Saito-san! Jesus. You frightened me!"
Saito looked sheepish. "I apologize, Robert. It was not my intention to frighten you." He had a box of tea cakes in one hand.
"I was in the neighborhood," he confessed, bowing his head, "I wanted to give these to you."
"Thank you." Robert bit his lip. "Do you, do you maybe want to come in Saito-san?" He was leaning away from Saito, gripping the doorknob for support; if he stood any closer he felt like he might have done something embarrassing. Saito smelled nice and he looked nice, his strong features bathed in the soft light of the hall.
"Just Saito, please," Saito said, smiling. Robert smiled too, stomach flipping, before letting go of the doorknob, and letting him inside.
*
The state of his apartment was embarrassing - too small for two grown men, cups of instant noodles on every available surface.
Robert made tea in the kitchen while Saito walked around the apartment, one hand in his pocket, examining everything from the sparse furniture to the language books that have accumulated dust on the shelf.
When the tea was ready, Robert pulled out a dish tray piled high with snacks. He'd almost dropped the tray when he whipped around and found, to his surprise, Saito standing right behind him - there the whole time, watching silently as Robert hummed and scalded his fingers on the hot water.
"Sorry," Saito chuckled, flushing slightly as he ducked his head.
"You're tall." Robert observed, face warm and heated.
Saito laughed, rubbing the back of his neck with a palm. "Thank you."
They were close enough that Robert could smell him again and he wondered, for one aching moment, what it would've been like to touch the silken material of Saito's tie. He flushed at the thought, biting the inside of his cheek.
Tea didn't last very long because Saito had a business meeting to attend. They said goodbye and Saito bowed in apology as he walked out the hall, promising not to be rude next time he was around.
Robert sait it was understandable, business was, after all, business, etcetera. He was just about to start tidying up the living room when there was a series of knocks on the door.
It was Saito, out of breath and bracing his arms against the wall. Robert blinked.
"For future purposes, Robert-san," Saito said, "I would like to ask you for your number or at least give you mine."
Robert hadn't read up on enough Japanese literature to make out whether or not this was normal behavior but he was past the point of caring because Saito was, if he were honest with himself, the nicest person he's ever met in this city. He found a pen amongst the tangled disarray of clothes and folders on the floor and was startled, but also completely pleased, when Saito extended his hand.
Robert took it in his own and felt the firm weight of it, turning Saito's hand over to write his number down Saito's palm. He'd never done anything like this before, never had the gall even back in college when his friends dragged him to nightclubs where men made passes at him.
It felt strangely intimate. He could hear Saito's every breath, and it warmed his face from where they stood far too close to be deemed appropriate. Even as Robert stepped back and said goodbye, there were still remnants of Saito's smell lingering in the air, the musk of his cologne, and Robert still felt the warmth that permeated his face when Saito smiled, soft, and looked up at him with such candor it made his knees weak.
"Don't forget to call!" Robert said jokingly, waving. Saito nodded, waving too without looking back, and sure enough, before midnight, Robert's cellphone vibrated on the bedside table.
He flipped it open and nearly fell over in glee.
thank you for tea. i hope to see you again some other time, robert.
*
Saito called a few days later just as Robert collected his twenty sixth post-it note and tacked it on the fridge. Robert turned the TV off to better hear him, ducking into the bedroom and closing the door.
"Saito-san, what a pleasant surprise!" He waited for a beat, exhaling in relief when he heard Saito laugh at the other end.
"I'm glad I caught you at a good time, Robert. And please, just Saito."
"All right, just Saito," Robert said, then paused, wondering what to say so as not to sound dull on the phone. "I was about to make dinner, actually. So."
"Oh! Dinner! Yes! What is for dinner?"
"Instant noodles. The usual." Robert laughed, making a face. He'd been surviving on it for weeks and quite frankly, they were starting to make him ill.
"You need to take better care of yourself, Robert," Saito admonished. "I am here right now in Beijing on a business trip. The food is delicious here. The next time I visit you, I will bring you some."
"Thank you," Robert laughed, feeling suddenly nervous. "You're very generous Saito, but really, there's no need. I'm fine. I'll live."
"No, no I insist, Robert. It will be my pleasure." There was a rustle at the other end. "Robert, the meeting is resuming in five minutes. I will call you again if you do not mind?"
"I don't mind." Robert said. He really didn't.
Saito didn't call again although he did send Robert a photo of an elaborate Chinese dish wrapped in bamboo leaves. Robert, who was half-asleep, unthinkingly sent him a poorly taken photo of himself, his cheek pressed to the bed, eyes half shut and grinning.
*
Yamato-san had been promoted, and rather than attend the party that was being thrown in his honor, Robert went straight home. He'd always felt a sense of displacement during social gatherings - even the goukon he'd attended a few weeks back felt forced and awkward. Anyway, it was always a case of not knowing enough people or at the very least the right people. And Robert knew he should probably work on it, climb the corporate ladder so to speak, but he'd rather spend the evening alone.
After a hot bath, he had a beer and a steaming bowl of ramen in front of the television. He was about to turn in when his phone started to ring on the kitchen table, skittering a few feet.
It was Saito.
Robert felt himself smiling. "Saito," he greeted pleasantly. "How are you?"
Saito laughed. It was a good sound, and Robert found himself smiling even wider enough that his face started to hurt. He sank back against the lumpy futon, fingering the hem of his t-shirt.
"I haven't heard from you in a week," he said, only resisting the urge to tell the other man that he'd missed him. And he did, in a strange, inexplicable way. Saito called him every other night or sometimes showed up on his doorstep unannounced at haphazard times of the day.
There was one night - when Saito had fallen asleep on Robert's futon after one too many beers. It was the same night Robert curled up behind him, shivering in the dark, clutching his own elbows, gritting his teeth - the night Saito rolled over in his sleep and pulled Robert flush against his chest, heavy arm curled around Robert's waist and his nose buried in Robert's neck.
In the morning they pushed against each other, half-asleep and frantic, pressed hip to hip. They never kissed, although looking back at it now, Robert almost wished that they did. He could feel the ghost of Saito's lips against his own whenever Saito leaned in too close and his breath touched Robert's face.
They never talked about it afterward. Saito had ducked out of the door, embarrassed and on the pretense of running late to a business meeting, and Robert watched as he drove away, stomach tying itself in knots. He didn't expect Saito to show up again a few days later, with a bottle of expensive sake and a box of pastries as a peace offering.
"Robert," Saito sighed on the phone, his accent making the hairs on the back of Robert's neck stand on end. "Are you doing anything this weekend?"
Robert smiled and for a moment, pretend to think. "I'll see if I can fit you into my schedule." He turned over on his stomach, reaching for the silk tie Saito had left in his apartment the other day. He brought it to his cheek, marveling at its softness before running the material between his fingers.
"I have the evening free," he said finally. "What do you have planned?"
*
It was October, two months later, when Saito took him to Asakusa. Sensoji Temple was packed with people, tourists and locals alike, offering prayers to the gods of good fortune. The air was heady with the smell of incense, the streets teeming with people. Robert didn't know which way to look - there was so much to take in all at once, so many things to absorb, sight, sound, color, smell.
They had their fortunes told and tied strips of paper to a tree before joining the throng of people headed to Nakamise-dori, a street lined with small shops selling souvenirs and housing food stands.
It was a good evening, if a little cold. Robert dug his hands inside the pockets of his coat and leaned into the warmth of Saito's body. He smiled, digging his nose into his scarf when Saito's hand pressed against the small of his back, very fleetingly.
Saito bought him a knit hat with ear flaps dangling from the edges from a souvenir shop that sold paper fans and koi, dark blue and with a ball that bobbed at the top. Robert refused to wear it until night deepened and the crowds thinned considerably, and even then it took Saito awhile to convince him he didn't look like a child.
"You look like a cat." Saito said, adjusting the hat over Robert's head, hands warm against Robert's ears and making him shiver.
"Do I?" Robert felt suddenly self-conscious, fiddling with the soft ends of the ear flaps. He chewed on the inside of his cheek.
"Yes," Saito laughed, tapping him on the nose. "Are you cold, little neko-chan?"
"Don't call me that." Robert sniffed, batting Saito's hand away and feeling petulant. "I'm not a cat."
Saito laughed, rubbing the pad of his thumb across Robert's cheek.
"I apologize," he said, soft, biting his lip, "I forgot myself again."
Robert nodded, wishing, not for the first time, that Saito often forgot himself.
*
"You mean you've never taken public transport before?" Robert asked.
"No," Saito laughed, sheepish. "Have I missed half my life?"
"Yes!" Robert cried, laughing, taking Saito by the arm and dragging him to the station.
"What about the limousine?"
"Give your driver the rest of the night off," Robert said, waving a hand.
Surprisingly, that was exactly what Saito did.
*
They wound up in Robert's apartment, noses cold and climbing up the stairs with little grace.
"Do you want to come in?" Robert asked when they finally made it to his door, and when Saito smiled at him and nodded without saying another word, he knew all at once that he'd asked the right question.
*
They stumbled their way to the futon like clumsy children knocking into furniture, mouths fused and half-opened, teeth clinking and tongues wet in each other's mouths.
They kept half of their clothes on - Robert with his pants and underwear rolled down to his ankles and the buttons of his shirt undone as Saito mouthed his way up his chest, rolling his nipple between his fingers, laving his tongue inside the smooth dip of Robert's navel, making him gasp and arch.
Saito was fully clothed from the waist up and Robert supposed that, from an outsider's perspective, they must look tragically funny, rutting against each other like animals, the floorboards creaking as they rolled their hips against each other's, kicking the rest of their clothes aside.
Saito's mouth closed over him, hot and slick and pulling back in achingly slow pulls that made Robert buck and whine, dig his fingernails harder into the futon. Robert raked his hands down Saito's hair, hooking a leg over his shoulder, pulling him closer, and closer still until the heat swelled in his belly, until he was coming down Saito's throat, and clenching against the fingers thrusting inside him, until he was panting and gasping Saito's name and a string of other profanities he wasn't sure were English or Japanese or some other third language he had yet to learn.
When it was over, Robert felt sheepish, pushing the sweaty mat of hair from his face as he caught his breath.
"You're still hard," he observed, and dared, in that moment, to cup Saito with a trembling hand, heart pounding furiously in his ribs.
Saito grunted, pushing against him, slipping a hand around Robert's hip, palm warm and slick with sweat against Robert's heated skin. Robert curled a hand around Saito's cock, pumping a few times, picking up speed once Saito's jaw began to tighten and he started to thrust against his hand.
Afterwards, they lay on their sides, quietly watching each other in the dark. Robert smiled, then Saito reached out, pulling him forward by the wrist, kissing him one last slow time before they finally fell asleep.
*
He didn't wake up to breakfast sizzling on the table but he did wake up to Saito drinking tea in the kitchen, in nothing more than socks and silk boxer shorts, sticking a blue post-it note to the center of the fridge.
"Do you have work today?" Robert asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It was a Saturday. The air felt warmer inside the apartment despite the faulty heating system. He pulled on a shirt and felt oddly relaxed standing there in the doorway with his shirt on backwards and a pair of old running shorts, clinging loosely around his hips.
"I put all my meetings on hold," Saito smiled, setting down his cup.
No other man could look so dignified in nothing more than socks and underwear, Robert thought. He smiled slightly, fighting the urge to grin. "You know," he said, slowly, "You'll lose money that way."
"It doesn't matter." Saito said easily. "I lose money everyday, regardless."
Robert laughed.
They didn't have breakfast until noon. They slept for the most part, on Robert's lumpy futon, rolling on top of each other and rocking their hips together, running their tongues across each other's skin, in wet, slow strokes.
Robert wandered to the kitchen a little later to get a drink of water, pausing at the fridge to squint at a note taped there. It was in the same handwriting as all the other notes, except this one was recent and the paper used was a square inch of stationery. Behind the note was a familiar company logo.
"What is it?" Saito asked from the doorway, startling him.
"Nothing," Robert said. He blinked, then turned around, smiling around the rim of his glass and putting the note back on the fridge. A haiku: curled up behind me
your arms enfold me, cloaking, hide me from the world.
"Go back to bed." Robert said, waving a hand, stretching his arms above his head. "I'll be right over. Not here."
"What do you mean not here?" Saito asked, crowding him against the fridge. "Here?" He stroked the pad of his thumb against Robert's bellybutton.
Robert laughed, shivering, before winding his arms around Saito's shoulders. He pressed his cheek against Saito's neck. Saito's breath was warm against his face. It felt good, it felt wonderful.
"All right," Robert conceded, closing his eyes. "Here."
--
notes:
sakura - in English, the word "sakura" is equivalent to the Japanese flowering cherry.
gaijin - "non-Japanese", or "alien". the word literally means "outside person" and can refer to nationality, race, or ethnicity.
goukon - a type of drinking party, but more like a group blind date. usually, at the end of the party, at least a few numbers will change hands and may lead to further meetings in a more private setting.
gakuran - the uniforms for many middle school and high school boys in Japan. the color is normally black, but some schools use navy and dark blue as well.
any and most mistakes are all mine, please feel free to correct me. also: this is for you bronson ♥