Without thinking, I grabbed his hand to lead him to the bed. Instantly, I felt alarm ripple through him, and on reflex, I flung his hand away. Awkward.
“Sorry… I shouldn’t be so pushy.”
“No, I’m ashamed to say I completely overreacted. I apologize.”
“I’m gonna take care of some work real quick, so you can nap or watch TV or whatever you like.”
It sounded like an excuse—no, it was an excuse. An excuse to put distance between myself and the overly cautious dance of two people with secrets to hide. An escape from the feel of his warmth, magnified by the alcohol.
I knew I’d never be able to focus, but nevertheless, I booted up my computer. And as I aimlessly started sorting my folders—a task with no deadline, and thus, I’d perpetually put it off—I heard the television turn on upstairs. Typical, I thought, and bit back a smile.
About a half hour later, when I went up to check on him, I found him nodding off in front of the TV. I was just happy he was relaxing. Careful not to make a sound, I washed the dirty dishes, then peered at the bed.
Asleep, he really looked no different from Kei—well, duh. I reached out to stroke his hair, hesitated, then pulled back. What if he flinched awake? Damn it, I wanna touch you! I wanted to ruffle his hair like a dog, or caress him like an easily bruised fruit. No matter what I approached him with, Kei would always entrust himself to me. I wanted to make love to him—gently, roughly, mapping over every last familiar inch.
Where are you, Kei?
As if tickled by my question, Kunieda-san scrunched his nose faintly. It was the same expression I’d sometimes glimpse during the night, maybe whenever he had a bad dream. He’d always feel around for me with a hand, pull in close, then go limp like he was relieved to find me. But this time, Kunieda-san remained still as his eyes opened a crack.
“Sorry, did I wake you? You can go back to sleep,” I said, as if I’d only just walked in. That way he wouldn’t know I was watching him sleep.
“That’s okay,” he replied with a weak smile, and it was so unlike the usual Kei that it made me flustered. And guilty.
“You can’t love him if he’s only half-there?”
At the time, I dodged the question, but the truth of it was that I didn’t know the answer. I loved both sides of him; his two halves existed to complete each other, so I never imagined one of them might disappear. But now here he was right in front of me, and as a guy, I couldn’t help but waver a little.
“How long was I asleep?”
“Less than an hour.”
“Really? It felt a lot longer.”
Bashfully smoothing his hair, he sat up. Then, out of nowhere, he shot a confused stare into the distance.
“For some reason, I can never get much sleep at my apartment,” he explained. “But it’s probably because I’m not used to being on vacation,” he added quickly. Like the real Kei, he wasn’t comfortable admitting to feelings of fear or loneliness. “Oh!” Just then, he leaned around me to look at the TV screen.
“Sorry, am I in the way?” Curious, I turned to have a look myself. A commercial was on.
“I just love this commercial. I saw it on TV last night and thought it was great. But it’s impossible to predict when they’ll run the same one again, you know?”
“…Yeah…”
It was an ad for an early summer clearance sale featuring my fireworks animation—stitched flowers blooming in the night sky. Belatedly, I remembered that they’d started airing it at the end of last week.
“Oh, it’s over… I wish I could see more of it. And without the text all over the screen.”
Evidently he didn’t remember that I was the creator. I have the raw file, I wanted to say. It’s on my computer, so you can watch it as many times as you want. Technically, he wasn’t quite the person I wanted to show it to—but that was rude to poor Kunieda-san. Still, I couldn’t treat him like Kei or it would feel like a betrayal. For the time being, I needed to keep these feelings hidden.
“Come back anytime,” I told him as he was leaving. “I don’t have any errands to run this week, so I’ll pretty much be at home the whole time.”
“I wouldn’t want to bother you…” But no amount of demurring could hide the joy on his face. God, he’s as obvious as Kei. Just in a different way.
“Trust me, you wouldn’t be. Not like I could really entertain you anyway, since I’ve got work to do… Besides, I’d like you to remember me.”
“I’m sorry…” I had attempted to keep my tone casual, but he hung his head dejectedly. “It must feel awful, having someone forget everything about you.”
“Eh, not like you did it on purpose. Nobody decides which memories they’ll get to keep, right? Don’t feel bad. Your struggle’s way worse than mine.”
“Right, but…I just feel so pathetic. How could I have forgotten someone so kind and wonderful?”
“Now you’re just buttering me up,” I scoffed dismissively.
“No, I’m not!” Kunieda-san insisted. “You’re a great guy!”
“…Well, thanks…”
“Thank you for dinner. Have a good night.”
“Take care.”
“I will. See you tomorrow!”
I could hear the joy in the word tomorrow. It echoed in my head over and over as he disappeared down the street. Then, after he was gone, I shut the door and crouched down on the spot.
What the hell is going on? You can’t call me a “great guy” with that stupid smile on your face! You can’t just say things the real you never would!
I wasn’t confident that I’d managed to play it off without blushing. This shit was bad for my heart, man—both the way he imprinted on me like a duckling and the way he left without looking back.