Matsuoka returned to the cottage at daybreak, past six. As soon as he got back, he showered and changed his clothes. Hirosue woke up sometime in the middle of his routine. Even when their eyes met, the man did not even wish him good morning. They whiled the time away in unnatural silence which continued until half past seven, when Hayama came knocking on their door to say that breakfast was ready.

Their conversation carried on normally once the four of them were in a group. Matsuoka didn’t ignore Hirosue, and Hirosue answered properly if he was asked a question. After their breakfast of sandwiches and coffee, they began to prepare to go home. They got their things together, left the cottages, and were just about to check out when Matsuoka realized he had forgotten his car keys in the room.

He hurried back by himself and grabbed the keys from the table, and noticed that something else had been left behind. A single watch remained forlornly on top of the side table. It was Hirosue’s. The Japanese-made watch bore many scratch marks on its glass surface, and the leather band was caramel-coloured and well-worn.

Matsuoka slipped the watch into his pocket and left the room. Hirosue mentioned nothing about the watch the whole time, even after Matsuoka dropped the three of them off at the station. He didn’t even seem to realize he had forgotten it.

Matsuoka hadn’t planned on taking the watch home from the outset. On the way home from camp, he had tried to bring it up many times, but ended up parting with the group without saying anything at all.

He thought about returning it to Hirosue in person, but that would mean having to meet the man. He didn’t want to use the watch as a reason to meet with Hirosue when the man was aware of his feelings. He felt like the man would assume that his real purpose was to see him and not to return the watch, and he didn’t want the man to get ideas.

The following day after returning from camping, Matsuoka’s own watch suddenly stopped working―it was out of batteries. He wasn’t inconvenienced much by the absence of his watch, since he could still check the time on his cell phone. But Matsuoka couldn’t be bothered to pull his cell phone out every time he wanted to check the time, so he borrowed Hirosue’s watch instead.

When he fastened the wristband, it was one notch further in than Hirosue’s. It was an old watch, but the clock face was large and easy to read. Nevertheless, it was far from sleek and refined, and was almost like Hirosue himself.

Matsuoka was at once surprised and appalled at himself for being able to use someone else’s belonging as if it were his own, but he continued to used it. The moment he put the watch on, it settled snugly on his wrist, and he found that fact irresistibly endearing.

In the first week after returning from camping, Matsuoka met alone with Fujimoto for the first time. He felt guilty rejecting Fujimoto just when she was starting to get used to him, but he couldn’t keep lying.

“I still can’t forget about the person used to I love,” he said truthfully. Fujimoto lowered her eyes and listened to him silently.

Finally, she asked, “Is that someone Ms. Hayama?”

“No. Why?”

“I felt like you were looking at her all the time,” she said. Matsuoka didn’t have the courage to say that he hadn’t been looking at Hayama, but at the man beside her.

He didn’t tell Hayama that things didn’t work out between him and Fujimoto, but the news seemed to have gotten across through Fujimoto. Hayama stopped talking about her, and also stopped suggesting that the four of them go out. Matsuoka wondered if Hirosue knew how he and Fujimoto had ended, but he had no way of finding out.

Matsuoka could see what was to come. With no opportunities to meet up together, his memories would begin to fade away. Once he could no longer remember whose watch he was wearing on his right wrist, that was when he could say that things were truly over.

Before he knew it, August had ended. His mind knew that it was September, but the sun’s scorching rays showed no signs of waning, and often deluded Matsuoka.

His sales visits occasionally took him into the shopping district, where he found it strange to see so few young people hanging about the streets. That was when he would realize that, yes, the summer holidays were over.

One Wednesday in the second week of September, Matsuoka finished his sales rounds and made a call to the office to let them know he was going straight home.

“Come back because I need to talk to you about something,” he was told by his section manager. Matsuoka reluctantly took the wearisome journey on multiple trains back to the office.

It was past six o’clock. Matsuoka passed through the darkening entrance lobby and waited for an elevator. He grew irritable by the wait, and when the car finally came down, there were a lot more people on it than he had imagined―about seven or eight in number.

“Matsuoka.”

Hayama was among the group. She jogged towards him. “Welcome back from your rounds. Are you finished your work now?”

Despite it being the end of the shift, Hayama’s foundation was still immaculate. She was also dressed up. Matsuoka wondered if she was on her way to a date. He refused to think of whom it was with, and banished the thought from his mind.

“Almost. Is Section Manager Imoto still there?”

“He was, but he was getting ready to go home.”

Matsuoka clicked his tongue irritably and subconsciously glanced at his watch. “Looks like I have to hurry, then.”

“Hmm?” Hayama murmured, and peered at Matsuoka’s wrist. “Did you change your watch?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He let his arm hang and pulled at his sleeve with his right hand.

“I thought you used to wear a TAG Heuer.”

“Um, yeah, it ran out of batteries. I haven’t gotten them changed yet. This watch is my old one that I used to wear in university.”

“I see,” Hayama said, seeming oblivious to Matsuoka’s awkward mumble. “Oh, right, speaking of which: do you remember how we went camping last month? Apparently Hirosue misplaced his watch that time.”

Matsuoka’s heart, which was already restless as is, began to pound like an alarm bell.

“He contacted the cottage we stayed at, but they couldn’t find it. He doesn’t know where he lost it himself, so if it was on the campsite or near the river, we were saying it’s probably as good at lost. Matsuoka, would you mind doing a quick search inside your car? Hirosue said he didn’t leave it there, but just in case.”

“Oh. Sure,” Matsuoka said in a small voice. “Was it that important of a watch?”

Hayama hunched her shoulders.

“It wasn’t very expensive, but apparently it was a gift from his parents when he got his first job.”

Matsuoka’s right hand trembled.

“As for the watch in question, it had a gold rim and brown band.. yeah, almost like the one you’re wearing.”

After that, Matsuoka truthfully didn’t remember what he talked about with Hayama. Without even giving her a decent reply, he fled the scene. The presence around his right wrist weighed down on him unbearably.

Right after parting with Hayama, Matsuoka took off the watch and slipped it into his pocket. Once he got home, he put it on the table and stood there, stumped.

He didn’t know it was such a precious thing. He knew he needed to return it, but there was no way in heaven he was going to admit that he not only took it home without permission but had also been using it daily.

He thought of passing the watch onto Hayama, saying he had found it in his car, but Hayama had already seen this watch. Wouldn’t she realize that he was using it?

His thoughts went around in circles until he gradually started getting tired. He also realized that he didn’t really want to give the watch back. If this was a gift from his parents, Hirosue probably cherished it―that was all the more reason why he didn’t want to return it.

Matsuoka clenched his hand around the watch and closed his eyes.?I’ll cherish it, I promise, so please let me keep it. Please,?he begged a man who couldn’t hear, and who wasn’t even listening.

Suddenly, his cell phone started to ring. Matsuoka flinched. He hadn’t heard this ring tone in months. Trembling, he seized his cell phone and looked at the display. It was Hirosue calling. There was no mistake about it.

Matsuoka warily drew back from his cell phone, then crept up to peer at it again. He kept repeating the meaningless action until the phone abruptly stopped ringing.

What was Hirosue calling about? The man hadn’t contacted him once since they broke up. Matsuoka was still pondering reasons when he heard his ringtone go off at an incoming e-mail. The sender was Motofumi Hirosue. Matsuoka opened the e-mail with shaking fingers.

‘I would like to meet and talk with you. Could you tell me a day that you’re free?’

It was a lie, Matsuoka thought. There was no way Hirosue would send an e-mail with such good news for no reason. There had to be another motive to it. After a little thinking, Matsuoka was hit with a realization.

What if Hirosue had been tipped off by Hayama? What if he knew that Matsuoka had taken his watch home and had been using it?

He could connect the dots easily if that was the case. Hayama had realized that the watch Matsuoka was wearing belonged to Hirosue. She had bluffed him, but since he hadn’t shown much of a reaction, she had talked to Hirosue about it. Now, perhaps Hirosue was trying to get the watch back on his own.

Matsuoka was aware that what he was doing was wrong. But still―

He took out his cell phone, and put Hirosue’s number on his block list. He did the same for the man’s e-mail. He could deal with not being able to see Hirosue, or the man falling in love with someone else. There was nothing he could do about that. In turn, the least he hoped for was that he would be permitted to keep the man’s watch.

September drew to an end, taking with it the unique humidity of the summer. The sky seemed higher up. That day, Matsuoka returned to the office at seven in the evening to clear up some paperwork. He had finished his visits at five, but he had chosen specifically to return to the office at this hour. Lately, he had been coming back late on purpose quite often, and that was to avoid running into Hayama. The more time they spent in the office together, the more chances there were that she would talk to him. Matsuoka wanted to leave some distance between himself and Hayama until the affair with the watch settled down.

He looked up at his building from the outside to see that the floor that contained his department still had its lights on. The girls in administration usually left past six, so if there was anyone staying behind, it was probably someone who was also back from his sales rounds.

There were three people in the office when he came in, and one of them was Hayama. Matsuoka panicked when their eyes met. Unable to avoid her gaze, he smiled instead. He felt like Hayama’s eyes were following him as he nervously sat down in his seat. His suspicions were confirmed when she came up to him without a moment to spare.

“Hey. Welcome back.”

“Thanks,” Matsuoka answered.

“You seem really busy lately. I barely see you at the office anymore.”

“Well, yeah. I have a lot of new clients, so it’s a lot of work following up. A phone call usually isn’t enough to get things moving forward.” He hunched his shoulders and sighed for show. But all he was doing was putting up a front, and his fingers still trembled.

“So, what’re you doing here so late, Hayama?”

“I’m actually finished with my work. Today, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Matsuoka gulped loudly.

“About what?”

“Concerning Hirosue.”

A wave of sweat broke out on his back. He had changed the batteries on his own watch immediately after that incident. He wasn’t using Hirosue’s watch anymore; it was hidden away preciously in a corner of his room.

“What about Mr. Hirosue?” Matsuoka asked, pretending to seem innocent as he started up his computer. “Oh, you mean about the watch?”

“No, nothing about that,” Hayama murmured. “I actually want you to hear me out about something, Matsuoka.”

Although Matsuoka’s fingers were moving, his head wasn’t functioning at all.

“I was wondering if you could come out for a bit with me after you finish work.”

No matter how many times Matsuoka said he was tired, or that he didn’t know what time he would finish, Hayama refused to back down. In the end, Matsuoka had no choice but to agree. Not even thirty minutes after turning on his computer, he turned the power off again. His work wasn’t done, but he considered it done. He wasn’t in a state where he could get any work done, anyway.

He was taken by Hayama into a cafe that was open late. There were many young female customers, who were perhaps there for the handsome waiters.

Even after sitting across from Hayama, Matsuoka’s face remained lowered. It was past eight in the evening, a perfectly normal hour to be hungry. Lacking an appetite, however, he only ordered coffee.

Hayama had said it wasn’t about the watch. The only other thing that she could want to talk to him about concerning Hirosue was that she had found out he used to date Hirosue in drag. That was all he could think of.

For a while, Hayama said nothing. Matsuoka was too busy bracing himself for the shower of abuse that it took him a while to notice her deeply pained expression. When she finally opened her mouth, what came out was talk about Okabayashi and Fukuda.

“You know how Ms. Okabayashi used to date Mr. Fukuda, from our cohort? They broke up once, but it seems like they’ve gotten back together.”

Matsuoka tilted his head in perplexity.

“Apparently Ms. Okabayashi told Mr. Fukuda about how Hirosue and I are dating.”

Matsuoka still didn’t know where this conversation was going.

“It turns out Mr. Fukuda knows who Hirosue used to be in love with. I heard she was tall, like a model, and really beautiful.”

Matsuoka swallowed hard.

“I keep telling myself that it doesn’t matter who he used to love―that I’m the one dating him now. But it doesn’t work,” Hayama said tearfully. “I’m almost sure Hirosue’s still in love with her. He doesn’t care about me at all.”

Tears fell freely from her eyes now.

“You don’t know that,” Matsuoka protested reflexively.

“I’m always the one saying I want to meet. I’m always the one that says ‘I love you’. One time, I didn’t call him for a whole week. I waited and waited, wondering when he’d call, and he didn’t. I couldn’t stand waiting anymore, so I gave him a call, and he didn’t even realize he hadn’t called me.”

Hayama pressed a handkerchief to her eyes.

“If he doesn’t love me, I wish he would just say so. If he can’t see me as a girlfriend, I wish he’d tell me. If he did, I’d be able to come to terms with it, too. But if I invite him, he still comes out, and after we go out, he always says he had a good time. When that happens over and over, I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not anymore.”

Matsuoka’s feelings were mixed. The nasty side of him was relieved to hear Hayama confess she wasn’t loved; his other side felt sorry for the weeping woman.

“Have you seen Hirosue’s former girlfriend before?” Hayama stared at him with watery eyes, and Matsuoka fell silent. When Hayama saw that he could not answer the simple yes-or-no question, she smiled crookedly.

“Is she that pretty?”

Matsuoka looked down.

“I guess she was. I see,” Hayama murmured, and hung her head. Teardrops fell and burst on her linked hands on the table. Matsuoka bit his lip so hard it started bleeding.

“She was pretty,” he began, “but that was all she was. She had a horrible personality. She was dating a bunch of guys at the same time and she didn’t even care. She was selfish and wanted everything her way. She had no consideration for anyone. I think Mr. Hirosue was just being taken advantage of. I’m glad they broke up, actually.”

“Really?” Hayama said softly.

“Hayama, I think you’re much better than his ex-girlfriend. When guys get into those types of horrible women, it’s like the flu. They eventually get over it. I’m sure if you give it a bit more time, he’ll forget about her.”

Hayama finally seemed to be calming down, for she stopped sobbing.

“Sorry for losing my composure,” she smiled apologetically, her eyes red and wet with tears. “It was just so horrible being filled with doubt every day, and I just wanted someone to hear me out. I’m really glad I was able to talk to you today, Matsuoka.”

He and Hayama parted about half an hour later. By the time he walked Hayama to the station, her tears had disappeared. Matsuoka also boarded his train bound for home.

He thought about Hirosue’s and Hayama’s unstable relationship. Hirosue hadn’t forgotten about Yoko Eto―about Matsuoka in female form.

Matsuoka felt in dire need of a drink. He didn’t want to think of any of it. He bought a few beers at the convenience of store in front of the station. While he listened to the lonely rustling of the plastic bag hanging from his hand, he wished he could get home soon to drink and fall asleep, his mind blissfully blank.

Too weary to wait for the elevator, Matsuoka walked up the stairs, but regretted it even before he had walked up five steps. He was tired from doing rounds, and his legs felt leaden, as if they were being chained down. Since Matsuoka had his head down, he did not realize someone was standing in front of his door until he was right outside his apartment.

He first felt a presence from the dark shadow that stretched to his feet. Matsuoka languidly raised his head. Though he did not give a shout, he did drop his bag in astonishment. The cans of beer rolled across the concrete. Hirosue picked up one that had rolled away from the rest.

“Hi.”

Stop shaking,?Matsuoka told himself sternly, but since his hand refused to stop shaking, he snatched the can from the man in a swift move. He kept his head down as he got his keys out of his bag. His fingers shook, and it took him three tries to get the key into the keyhole.

“Um..”

The man had been waiting outside his door. He had been waiting to see him. Matsuoka could see that, but he wasn’t going to be nice and be the one to ask Hirosue why.

“I have to talk to you about something,” said Hirosue.

His door was unlocked now. Matsuoka made sure he could easily flee inside at any moment before answering the man.

“What is it?”

“I couldn’t get through to your phone―”

“Oh, yeah. I did that on purpose.”

Hirosue looked down. Matsuoka balled his hand into a fist with so much strength that his thumbnail dug into his skin. “I sure don’t have anything to call you about, and I figured you wouldn’t, either.”

The man fell silent. His clumsy right hand raked his oft-dishevelled hair.

“I wouldn’t call you if I didn’t have something to say,” the man said. “You didn’t need to block my number.”

Hirosue was right. If he didn’t have anything to call about, the phone would remain silent.

“I called you so many times,” Hirosue said quietly. Matsuoka felt like he was being criticized.

“You could have passed a message onto Hayama if you had something to say to me.”

Hirosue fell silent again. Their conversation lay stagnant at their feet with no signs of moving forward.

“I want to give back the things you gave me.”

“Give back?”

“Like the gloves..”

He had chosen those gloves for Hirosue’s birthday last year, thinking they would be nice for him. Matsuoka smiled bitterly. Here he was, so desirous of something Hirosue cherished that he had stolen it to make it his; on the other hand there was Hirosue, who tried to return even the gifts he had received.

“Throw it out if you don’t want it,” Matsuoka spat.

“I thought of it. But I can’t bring myself to throw it out, so I thought the best thing would be to give everything back to you.”

“What the hell do you expect me to do with it? It’s just extra trouble for me.”

“It’s trouble for me, too.”

He had looked so happy, thanking Matsuoka so many times, grinning from ear to ear. That was all a lie. Soon, Matsuoka could no longer distinguish what was a lie and what was not.

“Give it back, then,” he growled in a low voice. “If you can’t get rid of it yourself, if you’re saying it’s all just?trouble?for you, then give it back. I’ll throw it away.”

Matsuoka thrust his right hand out, and Hirosue stared at it.

“You brought the stuff, didn’t you? Hurry up!”

As if spurred on by his voice, Hirosue hastily opened his bag. It slipped out of his hands while he was rifling through it, and Hirosue knelt to pick it up. He continued to crouch and rummage through his bag. After a while, he spoke.

“It’s not here,” he said stiffly. “I swear I had it in my bag all this time. I was planning to give it back to you. Maybe I left it at the office. I’ll definitely bring it next time.”

Matsuoka took a long breath. He tried to calm himself, but his molars chattered slightly.

“I don’t want there to be a next time.”

Matsuoka stared at Hirosue head-on as the man stood up.

“Get rid of the stuff. I don’t care how. I’m sorry,” he added sarcastically. “I know you’d rather give it back to me so you can free yourself of any guilt.”

“I―” mumbled Hirosue, but Matsuoka forcefully cut him off.

“I don’t want to see you again, Mr. Hirosue. I don’t even want to glimpse your face, if I can help it.”

When the man asked why, Matsuoka almost laughed at his insensitivity.

“I used to love you, but you dumped me. Now, you’re going out with my co-worker. Do I need any more reason not to want to see you?” he said incredulously.

The man always fell silent as soon as things got awkward. It made Matsuoka even angrier because he knew the other man had nothing to argue back with.

“You think I was deceiving you all this time by crossdressing, don’t you, Mr. Hirosue? That’s why you’re angry at me. You’re right―and I’m sorry for tricking you. I regret it.”

There was no response.

“So, please, by all means forget all about me,” Matsuoka bowed his head in mock humbleness, then straightened up. “Stop hanging around me and pay more attention to Hayama. If you’re her boyfriend, the least you can do is make sure she doesn’t feel insecure.”

Then, he purposefully brightened his voice to inject some enthusiasm into himself.

“She’s a great person, you know. Responsible. Kind.”

His compliments were honest ones, but he still felt pathetic to have to say them.

“It’s late. You should get going, Mr. Hirosue. Bye.”

With that, Matsuoka opened his door. At the same time, he was grabbed by the right arm. He flinched violently.

“What the hell?”

“Um―”

“Let go of me!”

When he drew back with all his might, the man’s fingers fell away from him. Matsuoka seized the chance to scramble into his apartment and lock the door.

As he leaned with his back against the door, he could hear heavy pounding on it. Even if he plugged his ears and tried not to listen to it, he could still feel its vibrations on his back.

The pounding continued for a while, but soon became few and far between until he could not hear it anymore. Matsuoka sank to the floor of his doorway and bowed his head. His shaking did not stop, and the spot where he had been grabbed by the arm continued to burn.

He wondered how Hirosue must have felt when he stopped him. Did he still have something to say, or―?

A vague and fantastical expectation swelled in his heart―perhaps Hirosue was keen on him?―then, faded. At first, Hirosue had been angry that Matsuoka was tricking him in drag. He had given Matsuoka the cold shoulder no matter how much he told the man he loved him. Every time, Matsuoka had been dealt a strong and stark rejection to his face. He found it hard to believe that things could be changing for the better.

Then, why? Hirosue claimed he had come to return the things he had received but Matsuoka felt like it was an excuse to see him. He knew there was no way the man would want to see him, but nevertheless...

Matsuoka expected something in the strength of those arms, in the man’s act of stopping him, in his lips that had parted to say something. His sweet expectation mingled with the bitter memories of his rejection.?There’s no way it could be. But then again, could it―??His mind switched between the thoughts endlessly.

Perhaps Hirosue’s feelings had changed, but Matsuoka was far from convinced. He couldn’t recall any type of constructive conversation between them that might cause the change in Hirosue. The air had soured between them plenty of times, sure, but not once did they talk about anything romantic. To top things off, Matsuoka had been busy most of the time trying to get close with Hayama’s female friend.

Matsuoka refused to hold any expectations.?It’s only because I love him, because I have feelings for him, that I’m interpreting everything through rose-coloured glasses,?he told himself. He remembered how he had confessed the first time with the belief that it would be alright, only to be rejected. He continued to dig out the most horrible memories he could recall.

Matsuoka sank down in the doorway and drank his beer. He drank one after another, but could not manage to get drunk. It was unpleasant, frustrating, and painful.

Matsuoka’s phone did not ring. Hirosue couldn’t have contacted him, anyway, since his number was blocked. On that day, Matsuoka had sent the man home at the door. He had chased the man away, saying they had nothing to talk about.

But even afterwards, Matsuoka still felt nervous coming home to his apartment. He kept wondering if Hirosue would be waiting in front of his flat, and needed to muster courage every time he took the first step off the elevator. However, those expectations always ended disappointment, for there was never anyone at the door.

About a week after Hirosue had come to visit him, Matsuoka had lunch with Hayama. He had unluckily run into her around noon when he was coming back from his rounds and she was just about to go out to lunch.

Hayama invited him out, saying she had something to talk to him about, and they went to a cafe nearby. They ordered from the lunch menu. It was a cute little shop with an outdoor patio, but the tables were small, and the chairs were hard and uncomfortable.

“So, how’s it been after that?”

Hayama tilted her head at Matsuoka’s question.

“You know, with Mr. Hirosue and stuff.”

“Oh, that,” Hayama said, smiling. “I think it was after I talked to you, Matsuoka. Hirosue started calling me on his own. We don’t say much, but he calls almost every day.”

Matsuoka didn’t want to admit that he was disappointed.

“We don’t get to see each other often, but I don’t feel too lonely because I get to hear his voice.”

“Okay,” Matsuoka said in a somewhat tactless reply.

“Oh, right, Hirosue and I talk about you a lot, you know.”

“Huh?”

“You know, since you’re our mutual friend. And I think Hirosue’s very conscious about you, Matsuoka.”

For a moment, he wondered if Hayama had found out about his feelings, and that was what she meant by “conscious”.

“Wh-What do you mean by conscious?” he stammered.

“Like, as a man.”

Conscious of him as a man―was Hirosue conscious of him as a romantic interest? Matsuoka’s thoughts were so focused on himself and Hirosue that it took him a while to realize he had misunderstood.

“You know,” Hayama continued, “since you’re good-looking, and you’re good at your job, and you’re nice. Usually people think I’m just being polite, since we’re in the same cohort and all, but when I told Hirosue these things, you know what he said? ‘Why didn’t you fall in love with Mr. Matsuoka instead?’.”

Hayama giggled.

“He asked me, why didn’t I fall in love with good-looking Mr. Matsuoka? ‘Why do you like me,’ he said, with that tone. It was almost like he was jealous. Isn’t that cute? So I told him, at first I did kind of have a crush on you, but you were living with your girlfriend at the time. And as time went by, those feelings just changed to good friendship.”

“You told him about my ex-girlfriend?” Matsuoka said incredulously.

“Oh, would you rather I hadn’t?”

“Well, no,” he said vaguely, unable to think of a reason why she shouldn’t have. It was true he used to live with a girl, but he wished Hirosue hadn’t heard it from Hayama’s lips.

“Come to think of it, when I told him you used to date someone else, he seemed curious about what kind of girl she was. I think he’s being a little too conscious, though.”

Hayama laughed as she said, “I’m not really your type anyway, am I, Matsuoka?”

Lunch at the cafe was certainly pretty,-->>

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