It had been two weeks since Hajime had last truly talked to Kenji. Two weeks of agonizing silence. He wanted to go to Kenji's apartment, to seek him out, to demand answers, but a voice in his head, cold and rational, cautioned him against violating Kenji's privacy. He had sent a flurry of text messages, each one a desperate plea disguised as a casual check-in. Kenji had read them all, the "seen" notifications a constant, tormenting presence, but he had never replied.
At the end of the month, a weary resignation settled over Hajime, and he decided to stop texting. Kenji's silence was a clear message, one he was finally forced to acknowledge. He might not be very smart in the ways of the world, he thought bitterly, but Kenji had made it abundantly clear that he didn't want to continue their ambiguous relationship. After all, they weren't "lovers" or even "dating"—just "casual," a word that now felt like a cruel joke.
Hajime was sitting on the school roof, eating his meager lunch alone, when he saw Keiji approaching. The sight of him brought a fresh wave of humiliation. As soon as he spotted Keiji, Hajime stood up abruptly, ready to escape.
"Hey, why are you running away so fast?" Keiji called out, a taunting edge to his voice.
Hajime didn't answer, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon.
"Looking at you like this," Keiji continued, closing the distance, "could it be that my brother severed ties with you?"
Hajime still remained silent, his jaw tight.
"Do you think my brother will continue to see you?" Keiji sneered, pushing Hajime's shoulder roughly. "I know who you are. You acted close to my brother because you knew he could support you financially." Hajime remained unresponsive, no sign that he was interested in arguing. Enraged by Hajime's silence, Keiji grabbed him by the collar, pulling him closer. "I'll tell you the real reason why he didn't answer your call." He stared intently into Hajime's eyes, his own filled with malicious satisfaction. "Because my parents are at home. He has one date after another, so he's too busy to call you. Soon, he will get married, and I will have a sister-in-law."
Hajime slowly, deliberately, took Keiji's hands away from his collar. A profound weariness settled over him. "Congratulations to him, and to you," he said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. He then turned and started to walk away from Keiji, needing to escape the suffocating weight of those words.
Hajime quickly ran down the stairs, seeking refuge in the men's bathroom. He knew, deep down, that what Keiji had told him was true, yet he still desperately lied to himself: he wouldn't cut off relations with Kenji until he saw Kenji with someone else. He had to see it, to make it real.
He began to live his life as usual, a numb routine. During the day he went to school, enduring the whispered insults and taunting names from students. At night, he worked his part-time job. Tonight, as often happened, Hajime was cleaning private rooms and servicing tables, picking up the slack because other workers routinely took advantage of him. But Hajime didn't mind; he simply told himself that the restaurant management was paying him, not the people he worked with. He finished sweeping the floor of one private room and picked up all the empty wine bottles. He grabbed the trash bag and was walking out when another employee bumped into him.
"Hajime," the employee, a woman with a tired smile, said. "Help me take these dishes to the private room over there. You can take out the garbage later." She snatched the trash bags from Hajime's hand and put the three overflowing bags back into the room. She then grabbed Hajime's hand, pulling him along, and dragged him towards another private room.
Hajime walked in, carrying a heavy tray of food alongside the other employee. His eyes scanned the room, and then he saw him. Kenji. He was sitting across from a beautiful woman, clearly on a date. Kenji noticed Hajime immediately, his eyes widening slightly. A sudden flush of guilt burned on Kenji's face, a fleeting moment of discomfort that Hajime, despite his own shock, registered acutely.
Hajime and the employee placed the food on the table, their movements practiced and efficient, and then quickly left the room. After work, Hajime walked back to the kitchen to hang up his apron. He put on his coat, picked up his backpack, said a quiet good night to the restaurant owner, and left through the back door, carrying the three heavy garbage bags.
After throwing away the trash in the dimly lit alley, Hajime started walking towards home, the cold night air doing little to soothe his aching heart. He walked for a while, lost in thought, until a car slowly pulled up beside him and stopped.
"Hajime-kun," Kenji's voice, hesitant and low, called from the driver's side. "Hajime-kun."
Hajime stopped, turning slowly to look at Kenji, his face carefully blank. "Kenji-san, can I help you?"
"Come in, I'll take you home," Kenji said, his voice a quiet invitation.
Hajime opened the passenger door and slid into Kenji's car. "Thank you for taking me home," he murmured, not looking at Kenji. Kenji didn't speak, the silence in the car thick and heavy.
They drove for a long time in silence, the unspoken words hanging between them. Finally, Hajime, unable to bear it any longer, broke the quiet. "Are you out on a date tonight?"
"The people I work with invited me," Kenji explained, his voice carefully neutral. "A group date."
"I see…" Hajime replied, the words a bitter echo.
Kenji looked at Hajime, his guilt evident. "I'm sorry I didn't reply to your text messages. I've been very busy recently."
"I see…" Hajime repeated, the flatness of his voice a contrast to the storm raging within him.
"I was just thinking of visiting your house after the party," Kenji said, attempting to shift the conversation. "How is your mother?"
"She's still the same," Hajime replied, his voice devoid of warmth.
Kenji pulled the car over to the side of the road near Hajime's apartment. Hajime got out quickly. "Kenji-san, thank you for taking me home, good night." He closed the passenger side door, eager to escape.
But Kenji was quicker. He quickly got out of the car and rushed towards Hajime, grabbing his hand. "Hajime-kun, wait." His grip was firm, almost pleading. "Hajime-kun, you have the right to be angry with me for not calling you back, but at the same time I don't want to lie to you, and I don't want to lie to myself."
"Say what you want," Hajime said, his voice sharp with a sudden, desperate clarity. "Don't beat around the bush."
"I'm dating someone right now," Kenji said, the words falling like heavy stones.
The word "date" that Kenji uttered shattered Hajime's heart into a million irreparable pieces. He knew this day would come, had rationally prepared for it. When he became Kenji's casual lover, Kenji had made it abundantly clear that he wanted to get married in the future. But Hajime had been too stubborn, too foolish. He had naively thought that as long as he truly loved Kenji, he could somehow change Kenji's heart, that his devotion would be enough. He didn't look at Kenji, instead lowering his head, desperate to hide the hot, stinging tears that had already begun to fall. "I see," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Thank you for telling me this. Good night, Kenji-san." He broke away from Kenji's grasp, turned, and rushed up the stairs, blindly fleeing the pain.
Hajime fumbled with his keys, opened the apartment door, and walked inside, his heart pounding. He went straight to his room, slamming the door shut and locking it. He collapsed onto his bed, the dam of his emotions finally breaking, and began to sob, silent, racking cries. He cried for a moment, the sound muffled by his pillow, when he heard the familiar creak of the front door opening. He quickly wiped away his tears, trying to compose himself, and opened his door slightly, peering out to see if it was his mother.
When Hajime walked out of his room, he found Aimi collapsed by the front door, barely able to manage closing it behind her. She reeked of alcohol. Hajime walked over, locked the front door, carefully took off Aimi's high heels, and then, with a weary sigh, carried her to her bed.
Hajime looked at Aimi, who was now sprawled unconscious on her small bed in the storage room. "Goodnight, mother," he murmured, the words hollow. He slowly, quietly, slid the door panel shut.
The apartment Hajime and Aimi shared was a one-bedroom, but it had a large storage room that could accommodate a twin-sized bed, and Aimi had decided to turn the storage room into her bedroom, leaving Hajime to occupy the proper bedroom. But Hajime knew Aimi better than anyone, and since the last incident, Aimi had been watching him closely, possessively, ensuring that her boyfriends didn't "fall in love" with Hajime, didn't find him attractive. She had even tied a small bell to Hajime's door, a subtle but infuriating reminder that every time Hajime opened the door, she would hear it.
It was past midnight, but Hajime was still wide awake, his heart restless, his mind a whirlwind of pain and unanswered questions. Then, his phone vibrated. A text message from Kenji. He picked it up, his breath catching. The message simply read: Tomorrow, see you at five. The café we usually go to. Hajime just stared at the text message, unmoving, without replying. He turned off the phone, plunging the screen into darkness.
The next day, Hajime told himself he wouldn't go to meet Kenji. His heart felt too raw, too broken. Yet, he found himself, almost against his will, sitting at a small table by the window inside Kenji's favorite café. The rain had already begun to fall, a steady, mournful drizzle against the glass. He checked his phone from time to time, a futile gesture, but he never heard from Kenji.
Hajime sat patiently at the table, waiting, watching the rain outside. He sat there for nearly four hours, mesmerized by the raindrops slowly trickling down the windowpane, joining with other drops to create bigger, faster rivulets, a silent metaphor for his own accumulating grief.
It was almost closing time when Kenji finally arrived, walking into the café, his figure silhouetted against the dimming light outside. Kenji walked across the room, pulled out a chair, and sat across from Hajime, looking at him without speaking, his face unreadable.
Hajime looked closely at Kenji's expression, and he knew instantly that it was not good. "Kenji-san, what do you need to talk about?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Kenji sighed, a long, heavy sound, and hesitated for a moment before he finally spoke. "Hajime-kun."
Hajime forced a fragile smile. "What is it?"
Kenji took a deep breath, the words seemingly difficult to force out. "Hajime-kun… I… I'm… I'm getting married."
Although Hajime was consumed by a profound sadness, he still managed to conjure a fragile, painful smile for Kenji. "Congratulations," he said, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. "Thanks for telling me this." He looked at Kenji, his eyes pleading for a final truth. "Is this the last time we see each other?"
Kenji nodded slowly, but he didn't answer Hajime with words.
Hajime smiled, a mirthless, shattered expression. "Do you want to order anything?"
Kenji managed a faint smile and shook his head. "No. I'm meeting my parents and Yua's parents soon." He took out a credit card from his wallet and placed it on the table between them. "This is for you."
Hajime picked up the credit card, its cold plastic a stark contrast to the burning pain in his chest. "A parting gift?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
Kenji nodded, stood up, and without another word, turned and began to leave.
"Kenji-san!" Hajime called out, his voice sharp with desperation, unable to let him go without one last question. He looked at Kenji's retreating back, fighting back the torrent of tears threatening to overwhelm him. "If I were a woman, would you still marry?"
Kenji paused, his back still to Hajime. "No," he said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. Then he continued walking away, leaving Hajime utterly alone in the quiet café.
There would be no Kenji to continue to encourage him in the future, no gentle voice to soothe his fears, no strong arms to hold him. Although he would never have the chance to be by Kenji's side, to truly claim him, he still couldn't bring himself to hate Kenji. He should hate Kenji for leaving him, for choosing someone else to marry, for shattering his fragile hopes. But deep down in his heart, Hajime felt only a profound gratitude for Kenji. Kenji had come into his world when he was at his lowest, when he was drowning in despair, and Kenji had pulled him out of that dark abyss. Hajime's tears finally flowed freely from his eyes, hot and endless.
He murmured, his voice choked with pain and gratitude, "Kenji-san, thank you."