but the portion sizes were modest. Perhaps it was just right for Hayama, but it was not enough for Matsuoka. Even so, he found himself being unable to eat much. And it wasn’t a problem with the taste of the dish itself.

“Two days ago, I think, I went over to Hirosue’s apartment,” Hayama said. “I cleaned his room, then we went shopping together, and I cooked him dinner.”

Hayama let out a short breath.

“And while we were shopping, I just thought―maybe this is going to be what it’s like if we get married.”

“You’re.. getting married?” Matsuoka’s voice shook as he asked.

“I haven’t been proposed to, or anything. I just thought it’d be nice if we could. I love Hirosue, and he’s nice. Don’t you think he’d make a great father?” Hayama said, before smiling and adding, “I hope you’re rooting for us, Matsuoka.” Matsuoka smiled back, but could not bring himself to wish her luck.

In the afternoon, Matsuoka went around to four of his regular customers. He exhausted himself by visiting extra stores he hadn’t planned to visit, and so obliterated any thinking space from his mind. But on the train, while he was reading over materials, he found himself remembering Hayama saying she wanted to get married. Hirosue was also strongly inclined towards marriage. Hirosue’s hopes and Hayama’s fulfilled each other perfectly.

No doubt Hirosue had only come to his apartment on a whim to give those gloves back. He, Matsuoka, had been mistaken to overreact. Never did he feel more absurd about everything he had troubled his mind with, and how he had expected almost every evening for there to be someone at his door.

If Hirosue hadn’t started dating Hayama, if Hayama and Matsuoka hadn’t known each other, if they had not been in the same department, he wouldn’t have had to find out about Hirosue’s next relationship in such minute and real-time detail. He wouldn’t have wanted to know, anyway.

It was past six-thirty when Matsuoka returned to the office. He could have gone straight home without coming back, but the documents were heavy to carry, and the office was on the way back from his rounds.

There was still a scattering of people staying behind. Hayama was one of them. There appeared to be some kind of problem, for she was talking with another female worker in a tense, urgent tone. Matsuoka slipped out of the room without greeting her and boarded the elevator.

Matsuoka got as far as the entrance lobby before he was stopped.

“Mr. Matsuoka,” said a voice. Matsuoka flinched. A man was approaching him from the shadows of a pillar. Matsuoka’s feet were rooted firmly to the ground, but he wished he could flee from the spot.

“Um―”

“Hayama’s still here,” Matsuoka interrupted.

The man closed his mouth.

“Want me to call her? I think she’s done her work, but she was talking with someone. Why don’t you ring her cell?”

“I came because I want to talk to you.”

Matsuoka already supposed that the man had come to see him. He only pretended not to notice.

“Well,?I?don’t have anything to say to you,” Matsuoka said flatly. The man stared at his feet. Matsuoka felt his heart clench at the man’s hurt expression. It was even more unbearable because he knew he was the cause of it.

“I just want a little bit of your time.”

Although Matsuoka did not answer, he did feel slightly curious to know what the man would say.

The silence between them in the entrance lobby was broken by the sound of the elevator opening. When they turned around towards the noisy bustle, Hayama was there. Their eyes met. Hayama broke away from the group and came jogging up to Hirosue.

“Did you come to pick me up? You should have called me and let me know.”

Hirosue’s gaze wandered in agitation. Soon, Hayama’s co-worker caught up to her.

“Ms. Hayama, who’s that?”

“This is Mr. Hirosue. He was very good to me when I was at Koishikawa Lab,” Hayama said, introducing him to everyone.

“Wait, are you two dating?” Her co-worker’s question already sounded somewhat sure of the answer.

“Umm, well,” Hayama dawdled for a bit, but did not keep her expectant listeners waiting for long. “I guess you could say that,” she smiled quietly.

Her co-workers teased her for a bit, then perhaps out of consideration, left the building before her.

“Are you free? I feel like going out for dinner somewhere,” Hayama said, clasping Hirosue’s sleeve. She suddenly turned around as if to remember that Matsuoka was there.

“Oh, would you like to join us, Matsuoka?”

Matsuoka wasn’t brazen enough to invite himself along.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll probably just get in the way of you two, anyway.”

“Not even,” protested Hayama, precisely in the way he had expected. Matsuoka bid them farewell and turned on his heel. He did not look at the other man’s face.

“Wait!” A voice called him from behind. He was grabbed by the arm so fiercely it hurt. “I came here today to talk to Mr. Matsuoka. So―”

Hayama’s expression visibly clouded over.

“Oh. Okay.” Hayama only lowered her gaze for a minute. She snapped her head back up, and smiled. “Then, do you mind if I come along? I’ll make sure not to disturb you two.”

Hirosue did not answer. Matsuoka glared at him to no avail, since the man was not looking at him. Matsuoka clenched his jaw. He knew this man wasn’t good at thinking on his feet. But still―

“Well, I was thinking we could do it later, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to do it today,” Matsuoka pretended to say to himself, in a voice that was a tad too loud for a reflection. He turned back to Hayama.

“Mr. Hirosue called me this evening saying he wanted to talk. He said he had something to ask about work. It’s pretty complicated, and it might take long. We’d probably bore you to death, Hayama.”

“Oh, really?” said Hayama, looking up at Hirosue. The man who couldn’t lie did not even give her a nod for show.

“So, I’m really sorry about today,” Matsuoka consoled her desperately.

“Oh, no. That’s okay. If you guys are talking about work, that’s too bad, huh. I’d probably just get in the way if I hung around.” Hayama gave a shallow nod in her understanding way.

“I’m really sorry,” Matsuoka repeated.

Although Hayama had given into his story, she still looked forlorn as she turned her back retreated into the distance. Matsuoka was pained to see her leave, and at the same time, infuriated by the man who simply stood there.

Matsuoka swiftly broke into a stride.

“Where are you going?” Hirosue asked in a fluster, but Matsuoka did not reply. Even after he entered the elevator and the car slowly began carrying them up, Matsuoka kept his silence.

The lights were turned off on the hallway on the fifth floor, and it was dim. Matsuoka went into a room with a sign that read, “Meeting Room No. 6.” The ten-square-metre space was a meeting room in name only; it was more of a disorganized storage area for old pamphlets, old photocopiers, and product samples.

Hirosue had apparently never been in here before, for he was glancing at his surroundings curiously.

“So, what did you come to talk about?” Matusoka’s tone was terse, still carrying the remnants of his anger.

“I was wondering if we could sit down somewhere and take the time to..”

Matsuoka leaned against an old photocopier.

“I don’t want you over at my place, and I don’t want to go over to your place, either. I also don’t want to talk about this kind of stuff in a restaurant,” he said with finality. That was enough to make the man fall silent.

“Will you give me a break?” Matsuoka raked his bangs with his fingertips. “Was I really the one that had to make that excuse to Hayama?” When he glared at the man, he averted his gaze. “I’m asking you if that was really something?I?had to do. I’m always the one that has to make up excuses that don’t even exist, lying about everything. You didn’t even bother playing along, Mr. Hirosue,” Matsuoka said, his voice rising. Finally, he felt something inside him snap.

“Fine. I understand if you don’t want to lie. But you know why I had to step in and do something? It was because you wouldn’t. But you don’t care if some other guy like me has to lie, right, as long as it doesn’t have to be you?”

“No, that’s not what I―”

“That’s exactly what you mean. You care only about yourself, Mr. Hirosue, and you’re so busy defending yourself, you don’t give a damn about what happens to other people. As long as you’re right in the end, that’s all you care about.”

His tears almost spilled over, so he hastily squeezed his eyes shut.

“You’ll hurt people without batting an eyelash if it means you get to abide by your idea of justice. You don’t even have the decency to show some tact! If I hadn’t said that back there, Hayama wouldn’t have been convinced. All it took was one sentence from you to make her feel better. Why can’t you even say that much to her?”

He gritted his teeth―he had to, or he felt like he would really cry. After Matsuoka had hurled those words at him, Hirosue clammed up like a shell, looking miserable.

Silence wore on. Matsuoka’s nerves were just as on-edge as before, but his impulse to cry had passed. He looked at his watch.

“What did you come to talk about?”

Hirosue did not raise his lowered face.

“Security is going to come around at seven-thirty, so you have twenty minutes. Hurry up and spit it out.”

No words issued from Hirosue. Matsuoka wasn’t going to take him by the hand like a child and encourage him to talk. At precisely seven-thirty, Matsuoka headed for the door.

“Wait!” the voice finally called him at the last minute. Matsuoka did not stop to listen. He put his hand on the doorknob before he was grabbed by the right arm.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Matsuoka turned around. The pair of lips in front of him trembled as if trying to get the words out. The man’s exhale finally formed words that reached his ears.

“Ms. Hayama tells me that even though you’re good-looking, you don’t show off, and that you’re kind. At first, I thought you were just two-faced. But I’m starting to feel like that’s not the case.”

Matsuoka stared straight at Hirosue.

“You’re the type to clearly speak your mind, and..” After repeating a broken string of “um”s and “ah”s as if to search for his next words, Hirosue hung his head.

“I want you to tell me why I keep thinking about you.”

Matsuoka stared at the top of the man’s bowed head. It finally came back up, slowly and almost fearfully.

“Is that something?I?have to think about?”

The man’s hesitant eyes widened.

“Is that something I have to answer for you?” Matsuoka took a deep breath. “This is your own damn business. Think about it yourself.”

Matsuoka pulled his right arm back, but the man’s fingers tangled around it like chains and would not let go.

“I thought about it and I still can’t figure it out, that’s why―!” The man stubbornly stood his ground. “One time I couldn’t fall asleep at night because I kept thinking about what you said. I thought of so many excuses to make to you, so many different ways to say it. But I could never bring myself to say it to you in person, and I had no chance..”

The heat in his fingertips dug into Matsuoka’s arm.

“I don’t think they’re romantic feelings. But I don’t know what to make of the fact that I keep thinking about you. I can’t seem to place you anywhere.”

Matsuoka forcefully swung his arm up. The sudden movement took the man’s fingers by surprise, and they broke away from his arm.

“Not much point in talking, is there? You’re gonna have to find your own answer, anyway. If you’re looking to stay the same, then I don’t want to hear it. I never want to see you again.”

“I―”

Matsuoka violently slapped away the hand that extended towards him.

“Stop screwing around with people on your own selfish accord,” he said scathingly. “You haven’t forgotten that you dumped me, have you? Can you?try?to be a little considerate?”

The man looked down.

“You know, Mr. Hirosue, the moment it’s about me, you just seem to turn insensitive. You think you can say anything you want and it won’t hurt me a bit, huh?”

“I never―” mumbled the man in a small voice.

“You don’t have any intentions to date me, do you? Not in a million chances. So just leave me alone.”

He heard the clicking of shoes approaching in the hallway. Matsuoka put his hand on the doorknob.

“If you’re at least a little concerned for me, do me a favour and leave me the fuck alone. Please and thank you.” He bowed his head at Hirosue and opened the door. The security guard, who had reached the door by now, looked at him apprehensively. Matsuoka smiled at him. “Thank you for your hard work. I was looking for some materials, but I couldn’t find them. I’ll be heading home now.”

“Have a good evening,” the security guard murmured, and said the same thing to Hirosue, who had come out of the room after him.

Neither of them spoke as they rode the elevator together. When they reached the darkened entrance lobby, Matsuoka stopped in front of a pillar.

“Go ahead,” he said, pointing to the automatic door. “I’ll leave about five minutes later.”

“But we both take the same way to the station,” Hirosue mumbled quietly. When insensitivity went this far, it was almost laughable.

“I’d rather be alone,” Matsuoka said shortly. Hirosue finally seemed to understand when it had been put into words, and left before him. As soon as the man’s retreating back disappeared out of sight, Matsuoka squatted down in the shadow of the pillar.

His sigh trembled as it passed his lips. Regret coiled inside him. Hirosue had been interested in him. Perhaps he could have tried to plant a seed in the man’s subconscious by insinuating that his interest was actually romantic. He inwardly shook his head at the possibility. He could manipulate the man’s subconscious all he liked, but lies were doomed to lead to ruin. In the end, Hirosue was bound to say he couldn’t accept men after all.

Matsuoka let out a long, thin exhale. It was going to be a while before he could salvage his spirits and recover enough to walk on his two feet.

It was close to nine o’clock when Matsuoka reached the station entrance. In the end, he had sat curled up on the spot for about one hour, and the security guard on patrol had thought he was ill.

Matsuoka dragged his heavy feet through the ticket gates and descended the stairs. The number of trains decreased dramatically after nine o’clock. Matsuoka peered at the train schedule. The train had just passed through the station, and he would have to wait about fifteen minutes for the next one.

Matsuoka sank onto a white bench against the wall. Across from him, someone was sitting in the same manner.

He recognized those clothes and their colours. When Matsuoka realized who it was, he looked at the ground. Even after the train arrived at and departed from the platform across, the sitting figure did not budge.

The train arrived on Matsuoka’s side as well. He felt torn because of the man staring in his direction from the platform across. Ultimately, his indecision kept him from getting on the train.

Matsuoka repeated this twice. On the third time, he finally boarded his train. He stepped onto the car, being careful not to look at the man on the platform across, and turned his back so he would disappear from view.

The man had been waiting for him. Matsuoka had no idea what had gone through the man’s head as he missed train after train until Matsuoka arrived, and did he want to interpret the man’s actions too favourably.

The next day, Matsuoka didn’t finish work until late, at about nine o’clock at night. He briskly jogged down the stairs to the train platform. He knew the train was coming in less than a minute.

Matsuoka continued to walk for a little after descending on the platform. If he boarded the train at the back, it was more convenient for him when he got off at the station close to his apartment.

Since this was a business district, the flow of people died out quickly at night. Matsuoka’s footsteps echoed busily as he walked down the platform. He could see an office worker on the platform across, similarly wearing a suit. His heart jumped when he realized it looked like a certain someone. When he realized that he didn’t just look like that person―that the man was actually him―Matsuoka’s feet stopped.

They were perhaps not even ten metres apart, with the tracks between them.

The train pulled in on time, and Matsuoka boarded it. Hirosue was looking steadily at him. His figure grew smaller in the train window, then disappeared. Matsuoka’s restlessness did not subside even after the man was far away and out of sight. His mind kept flashing back on its own, causing an unsettling stir in his heart.

It was no coincidence that he had seen Hirosue at the station platform. The next day and the following day, Hirosue was on opposite the platform when Matsuoka boarded his train. But all the man did was stare at him without saying anything.

Sometimes, Matsuoka did not see Hirosue at the platform―that was when Matsuoka finished work early. It didn’t take much imagination to deduce that if Hirosue was coming here after finishing work at Koishikawa Laboratory, it would take him quite a bit of time to arrive.

That day, Matsuoka went home once after work, but couldn’t stop wondering how late Hirosue would wait for him. He changed back into his suit, fully aware that he was being idiotic. He boarded the bus that took him near his office and went down to the station platform.

He put on a cool face, and with the man’s usual gaze in his peripheral vision, Matsuoka boarded the train. As he held onto the railing as the train car rattled along, Matsuoka berated himself for his stupidity.

How long are you planning to do this for??Matsuoka interrogated himself. Hirosue did not approach him because he couldn’t―because he hadn’t arrived at an answer. How long would he have to put up with the other man’s indecision? Matsuoka had a feeling that the root of the problem lay with the fact that he couldn’t cut the man loose, rather than a question of putting up with him or not. But there was nothing he could do about his feelings.

In the evening, Matsuoka returned from his sales visits before four, and was currently in front of his computer, putting together the documents he had to submit.

When the end of the work day rolled around, a few girls in administration began packing up right away.

“How about dinner with us, Ms. Hayama?” a co-worker was inviting her.

“I still have some work to finish,” Hayama refused with a smile. Matsuoka didn’t mean to stare at her, but their eyes ended up meeting. He looked away so as not to seem unnatural. Thirty minutes later, there were only three or four workers left in the office.

“Are you almost done?” said a voice from behind. Matsuoka stopped typing.

“Yeah. How about you?”

“Mine wasn’t urgent, anyway,” Hayama said, shrugging. “It was an excuse to turn down dinner. She was probably trying to be nice, but..”

Hayama peered at Matsuoka’s face. “Have you met with Hirosue lately?”

Matsuoka swallowed. “No.”

“Oh,” said Hayama with a sigh, then sat down in the chair beside Matsuoka’s.

“Hirosue and I broke up.”

Matsuoka’s breath caught in his throat.

“Well, more like he dumped me.”

“―When was this?”

“A couple weeks ago, I think,” Hayama said, cocking her head. A couple weeks ago was right after Matsuoka and Hirosue had talked in the meeting room.

“I had a feeling I was going to get dumped, so I wasn’t too shocked. I did cry the whole night, though.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I? He dumped me. He told me why, though, so I don’t have any regrets.”

Hayama raked her hair back.

“He says he can’t forget about the person he used to love. He said she was beautiful and gentle, but she was also very strict. She wasn’t afraid to point out his complexes, things he felt unconfident about, which he said made him really feel down sometimes. But he also said it gave him a chance to reflect on himself.”

Hayama sighed. “It’s hard. I guess just loving him wasn’t enough. But I still think―if I’d had a bit more time, if I’d been able to get an idea of what kind of person he was―maybe I’m just making excuses.”

Hayama’s cell phone rang. It seemed to be an invite from her colleagues who had gone out for dinner. Hayama smiled wryly as she apologized repeatedly that she could not go.

Hayama hung up her phone and left the office soon afterwards. Matsuoka remained sitting in front of his computer, but when he saw he was getting nowhere, he left it unfinished and turned his computer off.

On the way to the station from the office, Matsuoka thought of nothing but Hirosue. He pondered the meaning behind the man simply watching him go home from the station platform. He pondered the meaning behind the man not speaking to him.

He stopped at the station entrance. After some moments of hesitation, he walked right past it. Still dragging indecision and anxiety behind him, he walked over to the next station. Of course, Hirosue was not on the platform there.

Perhaps he was purposely avoiding Hirosue because he felt guilty about Hayama, or because he was irritated at Hirosue for being indecisive, or because he himself had no idea how to act―it all jumbled up on his mind, and even Matsuoka could not make sense of it.

He didn’t know why, but he simply did not feel like seeing Hirosue’s face today. He knew he would end up making the man wait, but he shook it off and tried not to think about it.

Even though he had taken the trouble not to see the man on his way home, he still thought about Hirosue. He felt sorry for the man if he was still waiting for him, but told himself that it wasn’t really any of his business what Hirosue did on his own volition.

Matsuoka grew more and more restless as time passed. He tried watching TV or reading magazines, but he couldn’t focus.

“He’s not stupid enough to wait until the trains aren’t running, is he,” he muttered to himself, but could not help but feel that perhaps he was.

Matsuoka thought about calling the man on his cell phone, but it felt strange to tell the man he had gone home when it was just something Hirosue was doing on his own.

It was now fifteen minutes past eleven. Matsuoka pulled out a fresh collared shirt instead of the one he had thrown in the washing machine and shrugged into the blazer he had put on the hanger. If he left now, he could still make the last train back into town.

He took his briefcase in hand, purely for show, and left the house. He ran down the nighttime street, which was dimly lit by streetlamps. He drew up close to the station at the worst timing possible, for the bells at the railway crossing began ringing as the barriers came down. The ticket gates were on the other side of the railway crossing. Matsuoka stamped on the spot irritably. The tracks rattled and the blast of wind made his bangs fly up as he waited for the long, long line of cars to pass.

The train finally passed, taking its rumbling with it. When his line of vision finally cleared, a person was standing on the other side. He had not been there before the train passed. Even after the barriers had risen slowly, Matsuoka could not break into a walk. It was the same for the man on the other side of the railway crossing.

For a while, the both of them simply stood there. Hirosue was the one to start moving first, and he slowly stepped over the crossing.

“Good evening,” he said.

“Evening,” Matsuoka said quietly.

“Where are you heading to?”

He couldn’t answer the man’s question.

“What’re you doing here yourself, Mr. Hirosue?” he asked the man instead, to disguise his lack of an answer. The man’s mouth was half-open, and his gaze flitted downwards.

“I didn’t see you at the station, so I got worried.”

“Worried?”

“There was never a day when I couldn’t see you. I went back to the office, but all the lights were off. I wondered if something had happened.”

Hirosue had only seen him every day without fail because Matsuoka had gone through the station on purpose, making sure he was visible each time. But Hirosue didn’t seem to have a clue about it.

“This whole time, I’ve been thinking of what you said to me,” the man continued, “and what it is that I really want to do. But I couldn’t seem to come up with an answer, so I would just watch you go home every evening while I thought. Today,” he said, “when you didn’t come, I didn’t know why you weren’t coming. I started getting worried. I thought you might have gotten into an accident or something.”

The clumsy man spoke haltingly.

“Everything you say and do has a huge influence on me. No one makes me hate myself more than you do. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, and I don’t know if it’s romantic or not. But I want you to give me a chance to make sure.”

Matsuoka smiled with only his lips.

“And what are you gonna do once you give it a try and it doesn’t work out after all? You gonna pretend it never happened?”

“No,” the man protested hastily.

“Yes,” Matsuoka shot back. “You said so yourself―you’re not even sure.”

“I think I do love you. But I’m not confident about my feelings. I’ve never fallen in love with a man before. That’s why I was wondering if you could help―”

“Bullshit,” Matsuoka snapped. “Don’t depend on people to do everything for you. Do you think I have the power to change you? How? In the end, you’re the one that’s going to decide.”

Hirosue grew pale under the dim streetlights.

“I’ve had it,” Matsuoka spat, and turned on his heel. Jerky footsteps came chasing after him.

“I’m sorry―”

Matsuoka did not answer.

“I’m sorry, I’m really―”

Matsuoka inwardly sealed his ears. Now, he couldn’t hear anyone’s voice.

“Ah!”

He turned reflexively at the shout. The pitiful man had tripped and fallen on his face. Matsuoka almost ran up to him, but thought better of it, and set his jaw instead. He thought about leaving, but no matter how long he waited, the man showed no signs of getting up. Matsuoka started getting worried. He wondered if Hirosue had struck himself somewhere and was seriously injured. Matsuoka picked up the man’s bag, which had been flung a distance away, and approached him.

“Hey. You alright?”

Finally, the man slowly raised his head. He stood up, and took the proffered bag from Matsuoka, grabbing his right hand at the same time.

Matsuoka pulled back, but the arm that clenched his came along with it. They pulled at each other like a game of tug-of-war.

“I landed on my knees because I couldn’t catch myself with my hands. I couldn’t fall very well,” Hirosue mumbled. “I had a feeling that if I fell, you’d come back for me.”

Matsuoka glared at him.

“Don’t tell me you did it on purpose―”

“I’m starting to understand a little more what kind of person you are, Mr. Matsuoka.”

His left hand touched Matsuoka’s cheek. Matsuoka’s whole body flinched.

“So, please, give me a little more time―until I can sort out my own feelings. Until I can say properly that I love you.”

Matsuoka looked down and fell silent. When he tried to move his right hand, it was forcefully pulled away, and he couldn’t even bring it to his face. He pressed his left hand to his eyes instead.

He didn’t want to cry in front of Hirosue. He didn’t want to act effeminate, but the tears spilled on their own. He couldn’t run or disguise himself now. His trembling body and sobbing breaths probably gave him away.

His composure crumbled along with his falling tears. The precarious hold on himself was becoming weaker and more fragile. He felt like he would collapse any minute.

“I’m begging you..” Matsuoka’s voice trembled. “Don’t take advantage of the fact that I love you, Mr. Hirosue.”

The barrier at the railway crossing came down, and the train rattled as it passed by.?I’m sorry―Hirosue’s apology was drowned out by the noise.

Tell me that you love me soon―Matsuoka prayed to the right hand that tightly clasped his.?Tell me you love me, so much that no one else catches your eye. Rescue me from these feelings.

The clueless man was oblivious to his thoughts and said nothing back. As Matsuoka sat curled up, his shoulders shaking, Hirosue only stroked Matsuoka’s back with a hesitant hand and a look of concern on his features.