“Hellooo! It’s your hot friend.”
This evening, Itsuki was hard at work in his apartment, as he always was, when the sound of both a doorbell and an unfortunate comment reached his ears.
Frowning, Itsuki went to greet his visitor. And unpleasant though the comment was, the person standing outside his apartment was indeed a hottie.
He was in his early twenties, with sharp eyes, distinctly graceful features, narrow-rimmed glasses, and a crop of bleached light brown hair to complete his artless charm. Despite his wiry frame, nothing about his physique seemed unhealthy, and his legs spoke for around half his stature.
He was smiling warmly, and everything about him made you feel right at home.
Itsuki hated it when a truly attractive young man acknowledged his own looks, since he had no idea how to respond. That said, modest protests of “But I’m nooot” to accusations of hotness were equally irritating. Thus: “Hot guys should all drop dead. QED.”
“What was the argument?”
Even after being told to go eff himself, the handsome young man just gave a wry grin. There was something oddly invigorating about that smile he had.
Itsuki didn’t know his real name, but he wrote under the name Haruto Fuwa. He was another writer, working for the same publisher as Itsuki, and he had made his pro debut at around the same time as Itsuki after winning a prize in the same contest.
“Hey, Itsuki. Doing okay?”
“Hmph. Yeah, pretty much.”
“Keepin’ your dick clean?”
“D-don’t say that outside!”
Haruto laughed as Itsuki visibly reddened. “Aw, come on—it’s fine! You know your neighbors and the people above and below us are college students, right? They’re all in class right now.”
“…Why do you know more about who lives in this building than I do?” Itsuki said with a groan, squinting. “Come on in.”
“Thanks. Here, I got a present for you. Lemme put ’em in the fridge.”
“Sure.”
Haruto opened the refrigerator door as if it were his own and put in a few bottles of imported beer that he’d brought along in a tote bag. Once he did, he removed two bottles from the fridge that had already been in there—two Belgian beers, the Tripel and Christmas from Gouden Carolus. Despite living alone, Itsuki had a fridge large enough for a nuclear family; it was about a fifth full of leftovers from Chihiro’s meals and three-fifths full of alcohol. The rest was occupied by plastic bottles of water, tea, or sports drinks, as well as ham, cheese, sausages, chocolate, dried fruit, and other snacky things to pair with beer.
As close as Itsuki’s place was to the publishing house, Haruto almost always stopped by before hitting the Editorial Department.
“Hey, I’m gonna borrow a dish, okay?”
Without waiting for confirmation, Haruto grabbed a large platter from the kitchen, opened the bag of ham he’d taken out with the beer, lined up a few slices along the outer edges, and filled the center with a neatly arranged assortment of cheese and dried fruit. This he placed in the center of the kotatsu before grabbing two name-brand Gouden Carolus chalices from the shelf, giving them a quick rinse, and placing them next to the desk, along with a bottle opener.
“Here ya go,” he said as he sat by the kotatsu, completing the work as neatly and cleanly as Chihiro.
“Mm-hmm,” Itsuki replied, giving him a composed nod. He had been reading manga at the kotatsu while his guest, Haruto, prepared the food and drink.
“Pick your poison.” Haruto said, both beers in hand.
Itsuki pointed at the Christmas beer. “That one.”
“Right.” Haruto opened the bottle and poured out the deep-brown contents. The scent of herbs and spices filled the room as the beer formed a head in the glass.
“Well, another day down.”
“Yep.”
With a light clinking of glasses, Itsuki accepted his drink. He was just about to bring it to his lips when Haruto stopped him.
“Hang on.”
“Mm?”
“Can you give me the peace sign over the dish for a sec?”
“…Like this?” a quizzical Itsuki asked as he put his glass down and made a pair of scissors with his index and middle fingers over the somewhat attractively laid-out snack spread. Haruto did the same close by with his left hand, then shot a pic with the smartphone in his right.
“All right, thanks. Let’s see… ‘Eating with my co–prize winner Itsuki Hashima at his joint! ^^ I’ve been here like three times a week lately, guess it’s about time to get married~~’”
“…What are you doing?”
“Oh, just actin’ gay on Twitter,” Haruto said as he punched away at his screen.
“…?” Itsuki raised an eyebrow.
“Well, y’know, I’m starting to get my name known lately, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Chevalier of the Absolute World, Haruto’s launch series, wasn’t quite as much a phenomenon as The Silvery Landscape, but it was still among their publisher’s five best-performing titles. The anime adaptation was slated to premiere on TV this coming April, and that meant a lot more exposure for Haruto, thanks to autograph sessions and coverage in anime mags, on Internet news portals, and on video sites. His attractive features had already earned him the semiofficial nickname “the Heartthrob Novelist.”
Haruto’s work was mainly read by younger males, an audience that wouldn’t generally care much what the author looked like. Some of them, however, expressed open hostility at how handsome his headshots were, a few voicing non-ironic concern that he might try making a pass or two at some of the anime’s voice cast.