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Atsushi Nakajima turned off the lights and padded through the living room to his bedroom. He yawned, wanting nothing more than to crash into bed after a long day. He leaned back, stretching his arms so wide his shirt lifted above his belly button.
“Damn you,” he cursed to his stuffy bedroom. He wiped the sweat from his hairline.
It felt too hot to sleep, even in just boxer briefs and an oversized, faded tie-dye shirt. He opened the window in hopes of better airflow. A decent breeze teased his crooked bangs as he briefly admired the modest view.
Yokohama never rested, even the night was full of life. From his second story unit, Atsushi caught the purr of engines, random conversations on the sidewalk, and the song of lonely cicadas whose circadian rhythm had been thrown off by streetlights.
The window screen was long gone after an intruder took it off two months ago. Atsushi had meant to replace it but couldn’t quite afford it. Every payday he always managed to accidentally buy something else. At this point, he didn’t care. If any other intruders were to appear, they’d be sorrier than him.
Atsushi’s ability made him his own weapon. Though that did nothing to ward off mosquitos.
Or my fruit bat, he thought tenderly of his frequent night visitor. It had been a week since he last saw him, by now he assumed the poor thing had moved on. It was likely for the best. They followed such different lives, their night habits being one example.
Oh well. You win some, you lose some.
Atsushi walked away from the window. He turned when he heard the crinkle of plastic and the flutter of petals. He stepped back as something landed with a smack at his feet. His eyes adjusted to the darkness as he picked up the bouquet of red tulips. Their sweet fragrance filled his nostrils, though they weren’t enough to cover the smell of wine.
He looked up as a dark figure grasped the ledge and hoisted himself through. The intruder groaned as he flipped over and landed on his ass. As he swayed onto his feet, Atsushi turned on the lights.
Ryūnosuke Akutagawa grimaced against the sudden brightness. He held up his slender hands, squinting as he looked for Atsushi. His flushed face lit up like Christmas lights when he did. His glazed, grey eyes barely stayed on him. He was ridiculously intoxicated, though it wasn’t the first time Atsushi found himself in this situation.
“Weretiger! Did you get the flowers I sent you?” Akutagawa asked, suppressing a giggle behind the back of his hand. Then followed up with a raspy cough that nearly floored him.
God, he smells like a winery.
Atsushi nodded as he held up the bouquet. “I sure did. They’re beautiful, thank you.”
“They’re for you.”
“Mmm. I thought so.” Atsushi admired them before teasing, “I think it’d be awkward if you brought me someone else’s romantic gesture.”
“Psssh. Romantic? What, I don’t know if I’d call this romantic,” Akutagawa stammered, cheeks glowing pink as he stroked the back of his head. He flapped a limp wrist in Atsushi’s direction. “Honestly, weretiger, it’s no big deal.”
He’s so cute when he’s like this. Of course, any time he’s not fighting or arguing with me is cute.
“What brings you by tonight?” Atsushi asked, leaning on his hip.
Akutagawa seemed lost before suddenly remembering. As if the idea was a physical object he had put down and forgotten about when he walked into a new room. He cleared his throat, and stepped forward, his footing a little clumsy.
“Weretiger, I must –”
“Atsushi,” he interrupted. “When you’re in my home, please call me by my name.”
“But I always call you weretiger.”
“Call me Atsushi or leave. You’re welcome to use the front door.” He smiled to persuade him to behave.
Akutagawa looked flustered for a moment before nodding. He then continued, “Atsushi, I must unburden my soul from the weight of – blegh.”
Akutagawa doubled over as he vomited. He put his hands on his knees to keep from falling into his puddle of stomach acid, wine, and whatever he had for dinner. He made the most miserable yakking sounds that nearly triggered Atsushi.
Okay, this is new!
“Please stop unburdening your soul on my bedroom floor,” Atsushi said, putting the tulips on the dresser. He grabbed his mini trash can and handed it to Akutagawa, who gladly took it. Atsushi opened the other window to air out the room as the retching continued.
“Hang tight for a second. I’ll be back.”
Atsushi left for his bathroom. He put on rubber gloves and grabbed cleaning supplies. When he returned to the bedroom, he raised his foot to scoot Akutagawa to the side.
“Move your butt over, man.”
“I’m sorry, Atsushi,” groaned Akutagawa with the most pitiful expression. “Don’t hate me, please.”
“I don’t hate you.” Atsushi got on his knees and began cleaning. He might hate him a tiny bit if the rancid smell clung to the carpet. At least the Mafioso could afford a rug cleaning service.
Hmm. I should probably ask him to replace the screen he tore up.
“Hey, Akutagawa. Let me know if you’re choking, okay?”
“Ryūnosuke,” he said, sitting on his ass and leaning his back against the wall. “Please call me Ryūnosuke.”
“Alright.” Atsushi scrubbed harder, wanting to get this over with so Ryūnosuke could finish his sentiment. “Are you feeling better? If you need to puke more, I’d prefer it if you went to the bathroom.”
“I’m going to live.” He wiped his face on his coat sleeve before looking down. “Dammit. I got some on my clothes.”
Atsushi glanced up. “I wouldn’t call that some. I can loan you mine while yours are in the wash.”
Ryūnosuke looked off to the side. “Oh, I don’t know if they’d finish in time for me to leave.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, standing with his supplies. “You’re too drunk to go home alone. And I’m too tired to give you a ride.”
“I can spend the night?” he asked, eyes wide in disbelief.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Atsushi mumbled before changing his tune. “I imagine my couch’s a lot more comfortable than any gutter you’d find yourself in if you left.”
Ryūnosuke nodded as if everything Atsushi said was a fact. He clung to the wall as he stood. He picked up the can, which Atsushi immediately took away from him.
“Thank you. I promise not to be a bother.”
Atsushi halfheartedly warned, “As long as you make it to the toilet next time.”
And don’t bite me again.
Ryūnosuke patted his pockets. He then bemoaned, “I think I left my wallet and phone at home.”
“How did you buy the flowers without your wallet? I doubt you picked them yourself,” Atsushi teased.
“Of course not,” Ryūnosuke said, almost snappish. He coughed into the crook of his elbow before speaking in a kinder tone. “I believe I bought them before I opened the bottle of wine.”
“Oh. Anyway, while I run this to the dumpster, do you want to hop in the shower?” he offered, hoping he would because of the smell. “It might sober you up.”
“Sure.” His eyes ran up and down Atsushi before turning away curtly. His blush reached his ears.
Right. I’m basically in my underwear. Oh, fucking well, it’s not like he ever remembers in the morning.
“The bathroom’s down the hall,” Atsushi said. He put away the cleaning supplies and put on gym shorts. He slipped into sandals to run the bag of vomit to the dumpster in the parking lot.
The shower was running when he returned. He washed his hands and found a shirt and drawstring shorts that would fit Ryūnosuke. He knocked on the bathroom door.
“Yes?” Ryūnosuke called.
Atsushi closed his eyes as he opened the door. “Don’t worry, I can’t see anything. I’m putting these here for you.”
He put the clothes on the counter and felt the ground for Ryūnosuke’s dirty clothes. If Ryūnosuke was sober, he would’ve never allowed anyone – let alone his rival – to be this close while he was defenseless. Atsushi wondered if it was safe for Ryūnosuke to wander around in this state.
“Thank you, were– Atsushi.” Ryūnosuke cleared his throat. He still sounded drunk, which was why he was so brave. “Uhm. I don’t mind you looking. If you want. Since we’re both men it’s not like it’s any different down there.”
Is he coming onto me?
Atsushi felt the heat creep over his cheeks. He swallowed the lump in his throat, reminding himself that he didn’t need to be embarrassed. He wasn’t the one breaking and entering their rival’s apartment for a drunk confession.
“No, thanks. You showed off your penis last time.”
Atsushi shut the door before Ryūnosuke could react. He put a hand over his mouth as he laughed on the way to the laundry room.
Man, I can’t believe he really doesn’t remember. I bet he’d combust if he knew he flashed me in my kitchen. Or the fact he keeps trying to confess to me. I’ll tell him in the morning if he’s still here.
While Ryūnosuke showered and dressed, Atsushi did laundry and prepared the couch. He laid down a sheet and fluffed up a spare pillow. Even though it was hot, he left out a thin blanket. He also put a small trash can by the couch in case of an emergency.
Atsushi set a bottle of water and two Advil pills on the coffee table. The last thing Ryūnosuke needed was a hangover.
Atsushi filled a clear vase with water for his tulips. He rearranged them and put them on the dining room table. He paused to admire them, wondering why it was always a bouquet of red tulips. The fact that he brought Atsushi flowers had enough meaning, but what drew him to these in particular?
He leaned against the kitchen counter as he pulled out his cell phone. He did a quick Google search, realizing he had never thought to look it up before. His heart thumped with vigor when his eyes landed on the first result.
Red tulips are a declaration of love.
Oh. Atsushi immediately stopped reading. His ears burned as if he had read something private, like Ryūnosuke’s diary. He put his phone away. It might be a coincidence. I shouldn’t overthink it.
He sat on the couch, trying to keep his expression calm. He shouldn’t be too surprised. In the last two months, he had bits and pieces of Ryūnosuke’s confession.
Just never in its entirety.
He looked up when the bathroom door creaked open, and a damp head poked out. He waved for Ryūnosuke to come out. The Mafioso was nothing but long legs and thin arms in Atsushi’s clothes. The hot shower left his pale skin shining pink. He crossed his arms over his lithe frame as he came into the living room, his footing about as graceful as a baby horse.
“Feeling better, Ryūnosuke?”
He nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
Atsushi patted the couch, where Ryūnosuke then sat. They looked at each other, almost shy, as they didn’t say anything. The distance between them could hold a third person. It felt too close and too far at the same time.
Huh. I’m getting this funny sensation in my stomach. I hope I’m not coming down with something.
“Atsushi,” Ryūnosuke began, a trembling hand venturing across the cushion. “I still need to tell you something. It’s why I came tonight.”
“Maybe in the morning. Take those.” He nodded to the pills, watching as Ryūnosuke stopped reaching for his hand and did as he was told.
He’s always a different person when he comes over. When he’s sober, he’s either mean and quiet or mean and violent to me. Yet when he shows up drunk with flowers – it’s always these damn red tulips – he acts so soft. Drunk but soft.
I wonder which is how he really feels about me.
The washing machine beeped. Atsushi excused himself and got up. He hung up Ryūnosuke’s clothes. They’d be dry by morning, sooner with how hot the late summer night was.
Atsushi came back and said with a hint of jitters, “It’s late.”
Ryūnosuke looked around the room. When he found the clock, he squinted. “I guess you’re right. Sorry to keep you up.”
“I hope you have everything you need.”
“I think so.”
Ryūnosuke leaned back on the couch; somber, grey eyes watched Atsushi walk to his bedroom door. He coughed loudly, prompting Atsushi to turn around.
“Are you going to be okay out here?”
“Yes. I should warn you that I’m drunk,” he confessed, staring at his hands folded over his lap. “I feel like shit.”
Atsushi’s lips pressed together tight to keep from saying something snarky. Instead, he smiled softly.
“You’ll feel better after a good night’s rest. So, don’t try sneaking home.”
Ryūnosuke nodded as he lay on his back and grabbed the folded blanket. He struggled to unfurl it. He fought with unnecessary force, kicking his legs to spread it out.
“Ryūnosuke, stop.” Atsushi laughed as he crossed the room again. “Here.”
“This damn blanket is broken,” he mumbled.
“Sure. What a bastard, am I right?”
Atsushi took the blanket from him and completely unfolded it. He then fanned it over Ryūnosuke’s body, watching as it wavered over him. He adjusted the top and for a moment, he got that queer feeling again. His heart fluttered as he realized he was tucking in Ryūnosuke.
This situation is getting out of hand. How many more times is this going to happen? Maybe this is purgatory. Like I died and now I’m eternally romanced by my intoxicated rival.
“Goodnight, Ryūnosuke.”
Ryūnosuke yawned. “Night, weretiger.”
Atsushi didn’t correct him as he turned off the lights – all except for the one over the stove, that way he’d have some light. He didn’t need Ryūnosuke stumbling and bumping his knee like that one time.
Atsushi shut his bedroom door and kicked off the shorts before climbing into bed. He tried lying under the covers, but it was still too warm. He kicked them to the end of the bed and rolled onto his side. He tucked his arm under his head and let himself drift off to sleep.
Atsushi stirred out of a foggy dream. His senses were on high alert. Goose bumps prickled his skin, tiny hairs raised as if eyes were on him. He flopped onto his back and looked with one eye. His heart jolted, heterochromatic eyes widening as he flinched.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, sitting up.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Ryūnosuke said, looking up at Atsushi. He was on his knees with his chin resting on the bed. For a fleeting second, he looked like a dismembered head.
“Uhm, did you need something?”
Ryūnosuke shook his head, sending little tremors through the mattress. Moonlight made his eyes glow. He hid his face in the sheets, muffling what he then said.
“I’m sorry. You’ll have to speak up.” Atsushi patted his head. “Hey, Ryūnosuke. Sit up when you talk to me.”
Ryūnosuke sighed as he leaned back. He propped himself with his elbows on the bed. He then said, “Sometimes I have trouble sleeping alone in new places.”
Atsushi turned his head to the side, surprised by the vulnerability. This man was supposed to be a hellhound for the Port Mafia. A literal terrorist with a deep history – though he had changed a bit since they first met. Now he seemed so… Atsushi wasn’t sure what word to use. But whatever it was, he felt the need to protect it. The world could be so unkind to those who needed it the most.
“But this isn’t a new place. You’ve been here before,” Atsushi explained as gently as he could. “This is your second time sleeping over. You slept fine, well, I assumed you did. You were gone when I woke up.”
“I don’t remember being here before.”
Atsushi settled back down. Sleep was a demanding mistress tugging on his eyelids. He forced them open, wanting to keep an eye on Ryūnosuke until he returned to the couch.
“I know. You drink too much and end up here for some reason. Do you even know why?”
“Yes.” His face took on a new life, excited with purpose. “I remember that much. I can tell you now.”
“Huh? Wait, that’s not what I meant,” Atsushi said as Ryūnosuke crawled onto the bed. His face flared up, red and hot, as he swatted at the visitor. “No, this is weird. Go back to the couch.”
It was too late.
“Thank you, Atsushi.”
“Don’t thank me when you weren’t given permission.”
Ryūnosuke made himself comfortable. Without any trouble, he grabbed the covers and wrapped himself in them despite the heat. He wiggled until he was closer to Atsushi.
He’s so needy when he’s drunk. At least he didn’t throw himself at me and bite me.
“Alright, as long as you go to sleep.”
“Yes, of course.” He pursed his lips, collecting his thoughts in a short silence. “I… Never mind. I can’t say it.”
Atsushi rolled his eyes. “Then don’t.”
“No, I mean I can’t say it when you’re looking at me. Close your eyes.”
Atsushi sat up on his elbow, staring down at Ryūnosuke as if he had lost his mind.
“No way. I have a strong policy against closing my eyes when there’s a strange man in my bed.”
Ryūnosuke narrowed his eyes, lips thinning in a frown. “Have you had many strange men in your bed?”
“I’m talking about you!”
Atsushi grabbed his pillow and smacked Ryūnosuke with it. The Mafioso cried out but didn’t fight back. He fluffed his pillow before lying on it again.
“Speak your truth or go the hell to sleep. I have to wake up in six hours.” He yawned so hard his jaw popped. “I’m so sleepy, man.”
“Let me try one more time.” Ryūnosuke flipped to his other side. A few minutes passed but Atsushi fought off sleep the best he could.
Ryūnosuke then said in a hushed tone, “I feel weird around you, Atsushi. Like I’m sick but not in a terrible way. I have heart palpitations. My hands get so clammy, I don’t know what to do with them. Sometimes you enter a room, and I can’t catch my breath.”
Atsushi stayed still. As if one move might scare Ryūnosuke into silence. He wanted him to go on, but he also needed him to stop. In truth, Ryūnosuke had already said this before. Verbatim – though it was on the floor and not beside him in bed.
It felt like they were getting closer with each visit, yet still so far apart. Atsushi was the only one to remember when daylight came. Then he’d see Ryūnosuke, maybe in passing around the city or on a mutual mission, and the Mafioso would give him the cold shoulder.
The same man who brought him red tulips at midnight would turn his back on him.
After a moment, Ryūnosuke continued, “You’re my rival and I despise you, but I don’t think I hate you. I am not sure how to put it into words without scaring you.”
Atsushi’s eyes widened as Ryūnosuke rolled back over. He now felt exposed without the blanket. He reached for it only to remember it was wrapped around Ryūnosuke. He hugged his chest instead.
“What is it?” Atsushi asked when the silence stretched so slow and painful, he felt like screaming.
“Somewhere between wishing you dead and finding common ground in the last six months, I think I fell in love with you. Which is quite ridiculous.” His laughter filled the dark room.
Well, this is a first. Usually, he leaves, or the subject is changed. Why does this suddenly feel less like a funny-cute thing and more of a serious situation?
“What do you mean?” Atsushi asked. He tried to make a joke, but his brain wasn’t fully operating. “Is it ridiculous that someone could love me? I’m not that bad to look at, am I?”
“Oh god, no. You’re so damn attractive, sometimes I can’t look at you for too long.” Ryūnosuke broke free of the blanket and struggled to sit up. His eyes were big and woeful as he looked down on him. “What I mean is, I never thought this was something I could feel. I didn’t think this bastard heart could do anything other than pump blood. But…I love you, Atsushi.”
Atsushi closed his eyes, needing to pull back and reflect. This whole time he spent speculating and musing over Ryūnosuke’s strange behavior, he never actually considered his feelings for him.
“Atsushi?” A hand pressed against his stomach. “Weretiger.”
“Hmm?” Atsushi jerked awake, unaware that he had fallen asleep. “What’s up?”
“I told you I love you,” he whispered.
Atsushi blinked rapidly in an attempt to stay alert. “You did. I heard you.”
“Tell me you love me too.” He licked his dry lips. “Please?”
Atsushi gazed up at Ryūnosuke. He brought a shy hand to his face and stroked his cheek. He opened his palm as Ryūnosuke nuzzled it. His thumb brushed against smooth, pale skin.
Oh, my drunk little fruit bat.
“Atsushi, do you think you could be with someone like me?” His voice shook to get the words out.
“Ask me again in the morning.”
Atsushi inhaled sharply as Ryūnosuke touched his neck. Then, when Atsushi didn’t push it away, his hand slid to the top of his head. Slender fingers curled around gray hair. Ryūnosuke pressed his forehead to his; eclipsing Atsushi’s vision. Their noses brushed together; only an inch kept their lips apart.
“Please?”
“We shouldn’t make any commitments when you’re drunk. I’m sorry.”
“Tell me something, please. I love you. I only drank so much so I’d have the courage to tell you. I think about you all the time. Sometimes I can’t sleep because I dream about you and we’re like different people but we’re so happy. Then I wake up and we’re back to our old routine. It’s so cruel to see what we could be and wonder how to tangle what’s possible from pure delusion.”
What even is possible for us?
“You’re crying?” Atsushi asked when something wet dropped onto his cheek. He gently pushed Ryūnosuke back so he could wipe the tears off his face. His heart sank. “Don’t be sad.”
“Please, what does it take to win your heart? I want you to love me too.”
Atsushi brushed Ryūnosuke’s bangs aside. He whispered, “It’s the same every time. I tell you to ask me out when you’re sober. You just have to remember in the morning.”
Ryūnosuke’s nose scrunched up. He closed his teary eyes and put his weight onto Atsushi. His face pressed into his shoulder. He was so hot, Atsushi wondered if he had drunk more than just wine.
Atsushi slowly wrapped his arms around Ryūnosuke's slim waist. He patted his back, rocking side to side. He comforted him the best he could without breaking his own heart.
“We’ve done this dance before. I’ve already told you how I feel. You’re the one who keeps forgetting.”
He murmured into his shoulder, “I’ll try not to this time.”
We’ll see. God, it’s getting so late. Should I call out tomorrow? At this rate, I won’t get any sleep.
“Ryūnosuke?” Atsushi asked after a couple of minutes of them holding each other. “Don’t tell me you fell asleep on me.”
Ryūnosuke pulled on Atsushi’s collar. Soft lips grazed his shoulder, sending a chill up his spine. He moved to push him away when teeth broke skin. He tensed up as Ryūnosuke curled around him, latching onto him with his eager mouth.
It didn’t hurt like the first time, though it was still a surprise.
“Dammit, Akutagawa. You always end up biting me.” He tried not to laugh; the situation was more bizarre than funny. “You’re like some lovesick vampire, aren’t you?”
This felt different than the other nights. A fire burned inside him; a neediness that wanted to engulf them both. He adjusted his legs so he could be more comfortable. He held Ryūnosuke closer. It felt like his chest was going to burst.
Is it wrong that this feels good?
He stroked Ryūnosuke’s back, eyes watering. He bit his cheek to keep from moaning – the last thing he needed was to entice Ryūnosuke into wanting more. After a moment, biting turned into tender kisses.
“Your skin is so soft,” Ryūnosuke murmured in a daze, “and you taste so sweet. You’re like a fig. I just want to devour you, Atsushi.”
“Hmm. The first time you told me that, you mentioned they’re your favorite fruit.”
“Oh. Then you’re the forbidden fruit I keep coming back for.”
Atsushi blushed, closing his eyes when Ryūnosuke turned to gaze at him with intense yearning.
“Ha. That’s why I call you my fruit bat.”
“Fruit bat?”
“Yeah. The first time you bit me, I was so pissed I threw you out the window. Then you came back and did it again a few days later. When I asked why, you called me a fig. Your fig because I was sweet or whatever. I asked if you were a fruit bat, and the joke became my little nickname for you,” Atsushi explained, feeling soothed by the darkness behind his eyelids.
That and you’re fruity as hell.
“I’m sorry,” Ryūnosuke whispered, his voice carrying a weight of sadness and longing. He rolled off Atsushi. “I don’t know how to explain why I do this. It’s as if I need you so much that I have to consume you. I want to be with you, Atsushi.”
“I know,” Atsushi said because he had heard this before. Not once, but over a dozen times. He prodded the wet mark on his shoulder. It stung but he wasn’t in pain. If it were bad – which it never was – he would use his healing ability.
A funny thought crossed his mind. What if Ryūnosuke kept marking him because Atsushi always made it go away in the morning? He chuckled, thinking that was ridiculous.
“I want to kiss you. May I?”
Atsushi opened his eyes. His heart thudded to have Ryūnosuke so close. His eyes fell on his lips, and he briefly entertained the idea.
“I don’t usually kiss drunk people,” Atsushi joked, turning him down gently.
Ryūnosuke pouted, folding his arms over his chest. “Usually? How many offers are you receiving, weretiger?”
Atsushi grabbed the pillow under Ryūnosuke’s head and plopped it over his face. He held it down for a few seconds as skinny arms flailed in the air. He let him push the pillow off.
Atsushi said, “Never mind that, you dummy.”
“But wait, can you promise me something?”
Atsushi sighed. “I’ll consider it. What do you want?”
“If I forget in the morning, I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I’m mean, I just don’t know how to act when I’m around you. It’s not your fault. But if I do forget to ask you out, will you remind me?”
Atsushi stared at him for a moment, his gaze softening. The corner of his mouth twitched, wanting to kiss him. His hands trembled till he clenched them, needing to pull Ryūnosuke closer. His body was light as if he wasn’t really there, yet at the same time felt too heavy. As if burdened with his own confession for Ryūnosuke.
Because he didn’t want either of them to forget, Atsushi got out of bed.
“Where are you going?” Ryūnosuke asked, sitting up. “Did I offend you?”
“No, you’re fine. Stay here, please.”
Atsushi closed the door behind him and turned on the dining room light. He looked around the apartment for a pen and paper. Once found, he sat across from his red tulips. His knee bounced with bottled-up anxiety – he had so much to say but didn’t know where to begin.
If I mess up, it’s okay. I’ll find more paper.
Atsushi set the pen to the paper, and soon his hand was racing with his thoughts. It poured out of him as if the levees had broken. The page was flooded with hastily scribbled words. Soon five minutes turned into ten. Then a half hour later he folded it in half and left it on the table.
Atsushi opened the bedroom door slowly. When he found Ryūnosuke had passed out, he tiptoed to the bed. He carefully took Ryūnosuke’s arm and wrote a few words. Satisfied that this was the best he could do, he put the pen on the nightstand and climbed into bed without waking him.
“Goodnight,” he whispered, fanning the blanket over them.
Ryūnosuke snored softly beside him. Soon Atsushi fell into a peaceful dream.
***
Morning light burned through Ryūnosuke’s eyelids. His face scrunched up as he groaned. He rolled over and fell onto the floor. He cursed his sore body; a hand went to his groggy head where every thought was pounding.
What the hell happened to me? Dammit. I drank too much.
He staggered onto his feet and froze. His eyes widened, realizing he wasn’t in his bedroom. Worse, he wasn’t alone.
Oh my god, have I lost my mind? I can’t just go sleeping around. This is beneath me.
He looked around, taking in the modest bedroom. He didn’t feel violated in any way, so he assumed he was safe. Nor did it seem like they had sex at all – which failed to explain why he was here in the first place. He leaned over the bed for a glance at his host. He pulled back the covers a few inches to better see the figure underneath. When he noticed the choppy, grey hair, he fell back.
What have I done? How did I get here? Oh no, did I do it again?
Last week he woke in a similar predicament. He had no memory of the night leading to waking up in the weretiger’s apartment. He had snuck out without disturbing Atsushi. When he didn’t hear from him afterward, he came to two possible conclusions.
One, Ryūnosuke had gotten so drunk that he broke into the weretiger’s home and slept there without him finding out.
Or two, Ryūnosuke had somehow met with Atsushi and attempted to bed him. Though, if Atsushi didn’t bring it up later, was it possible that Ryūnosuke had done something bad to him? He didn’t know how to breach the subject, so he had let it go.
He looked down, noticing the clothes he woke up in. He had never seen them before. His stomach soured. This meant he had been nude at some point. He cursed his foolishness.
I probably made an ass of myself. How can I ever look him in the eyes now? He must’ve pitied me.
Blue ink against his porcelain skin caught his attention. He held his arm closer as he read the careful writing.
Good morning! Don’t worry, you’re safe here. Your clothes are hanging in the laundry room. There’s a letter on the dining table for you. Please read before you decide to leave.
Ryūnosuke put a hand over the words, imagining Atsushi holding him as he wrote them. His chest flooded with warmth. He looked over to Atsushi, who was still asleep. His heart raced.
We slept in the same bed. And he let me wear his clothes. And he wrote on me. Did I do it? Did I finally tell him?
Oh no, what if I messed it up by being a brute? I wish I could remember.
He quietly left the bedroom and surveyed the open-concept apartment. He hardly recognized it from the last time he was there – though he had left before dawn when everything was still cast in shadows. He found the laundry room and changed into his clothes.
He smelled the blouse, breathing in the scent of Atsushi’s detergent. He set the clothes he wore neatly on top of the washer for Atsushi’s next load.
He felt more confident once he was in his own clothes. He sat at the dining table and pulled the letter closer. The red tulips caught his eye. Their vibrant petals unlocked a memory for him.
I bought these after work yesterday. I was going to give them to Atsushi, then tell him my feelings. But I lost my nerve and went home. I thought I’d feel more confident with a glass of wine. One turned into two, then two turned into the whole bottle.
I can’t believe I still came.
Ryūnosuke took a deep breath and flattened the page against the table. He exhaled slowly as he read the letter.
Dear Ryūnosuke,
If you’re reading this, you must’ve woken before me. And there’s a chance you don’t remember last night. To be fair, you never do.
Two months ago, roughly around midnight, I woke to the sound of my window screen being shredded. Then you, of all people in Yokohama, climbed through the window and threw a bouquet of red tulips at me. You chucked it at my head like a football and said something along the lines of “Take these, weretiger.”
I wasn’t impressed, but you wouldn’t leave. You were so drunk that your poor attempt at a confession was aggressively poetic and borderline mean. Then you threw yourself on me and bit me.
I was so angry, I kneed you in the balls and threw you out the window with your stupid flowers. On top of that, you never called to apologize or explain yourself. Since you didn’t act any differently while working together, I didn’t bother bringing it up.
I assumed you had mercury poisoning and went insane because drunk couldn't begin to cover what you said and did.
Then several nights later you returned. You did the same thing, yet you were a little gentler. You were still drunk as hell, but you managed to be nicer to me. You tossed the flowers on the bed and said, “I thought you might like these.” You even asked about my day before going on about how you ‘enjoyed’ the sight of my face.
But then you bit me again! Lucky for you, I gave you the chance to (somewhat poorly) explain yourself.
I was a little smitten, though rightfully annoyed. So, I asked you to leave, and you did.
Since then, you have done this a total of fifteen times in the last two months. With each visit, your attempts at confessing improved. Eventually, you began to say things that made me want to share those feelings too. I even looked forward to getting ready for bed, wondering if you’d be stopping by.
Though you were always intoxicated, entering through my window, acting shameless, and biting me (moving forward, you’re going to need to work on this).
Somehow, despite the frustration and awkwardness, I started falling in love with you. On nights you didn’t come, I would wonder when I’d see you again. I want to be with you as much as you want to be with me. Preferably, on better terms.
As much as I’ve enjoyed this strange dating situation, it’s also wearing down on me. It’s emotionally draining to have someone constantly throw their feelings at me, draw out my own, and then forget in the morning. Scrub, rinse, repeat. Enough!
If you’re not ready to face your feelings, or if this is somehow a mistake, please take your flowers and leave. Don’t ever come through my window again.
But, if you’re serious about exploring what we could become, I would like to give you that kiss you asked for last night.
Yours,
Atsushi
Ryūnosuke looked up as the bedroom door opened. His pulse quickened, his stomach flipping, as he took in the sight of Atsushi in the doorway.
“Morning, weretiger,” Ryūnosuke whispered. He then cleared his throat and tried again. “Good morning, Atsushi.”
“Good morning. I see you’re still here,” Atsushi said, his tone making it ambiguous if he was either surprised or delighted.
“Yeah.” He held up the letter. “I just finished reading.”
“Oh. Have you decided?”
Ryūnosuke nodded. He steadied his breathing as he folded the letter – his first love letter ever – and slipped it into his coat’s pocket. When he stood, he took the vase from the table. Atsushi watched with earnest eyes as Ryūnosuke walked with them.
“Do you want me to hold the door open for you?” Atsushi asked, sounding deflated.
“No.” Ryūnosuke stood in front of him. “Is it too late to do this properly? Or have you had enough?”
Atsushi looked off to the side as if to consider it. He met his eyes again and smiled. “I think you have one last chance.”
God, I’m so nervous. But I have to do this, or I’ll regret it.
“One’s all I need.” Ryūnosuke squared his shoulders and held out the flowers. “Atsushi, these are for you. I don’t know if you know this, but red tulips have some interesting stories behind their meaning.”
“Do they?” Atsushi asked, raising a brow as he took the tulips.
“Yes. They’re a declaration. In some places, a man may give red tulips to convey being on fire with love.” He paused to cough. “Which is how I feel around you. I burn for you, Atsushi. If you gave me the chance to prove it, I wouldn’t waste it.”
Atsushi looked down at the flowers. His thoughtful silence was almost maddening. Ryūnosuke felt like his body might explode from the pressure.
“Alright. But you need to replace the screen you destroyed,” he said, setting the vase on the dining room table again.
“If that’s all it takes, consider it done.”
“Of course, that’s not all,” Atsushi said, rolling his eyes as he stood in front of Ryūnosuke again. His lilac-to-gold eyes gleamed, and for a moment Ryūnosuke almost lost his composure. Close proximity with the young detective made him want to go feral with passion.
Oh, the letter.
Ryūnosuke’s cheeks felt hot as he asked, “May I kiss you now?”
Atsushi nodded. He blushed so deeply it looked like someone had brushed his face with pink paint. He stepped closer to Ryūnosuke, and with a soft hand cupped the side of his face.
I think I’m getting Deja Vu. He’s touched my face before. I can feel it.
Oh Lord, we’re about to have our first kiss.
Ryūnosuke put his hands on Atsushi’s waist, tugging him closer. He swallowed to keep his heart from choking him. Their heads turned in opposite directions as they leaned forward, now feeling each other’s breath on their faces, and closed the distance between their mouths.
When their lips met, Ryūnosuke softly gasped. Surprised by how smooth and warm Atsushi’s lips were. He watched as Atsushi slowly closed his eyes and he did the same. He went from holding Atsushi’s waist to embracing it. Atsushi’s hand slipped from his face to the back of his head.
There was so much Ryūnosuke suddenly wanted to tell Atsushi. Such as, how he adored his obscure hairstyle that no one else could pull off. That Atsushi had eyes that made him finally appreciate watercolor paintings. And, despite his own dark demeanor, he was drawn to Atsushi’s kindness like a sea turtle following sunlight to the surface.
Mostly Ryūnosuke wanted to share that he was hopelessly, maybe even pathetically, in love with Atsushi.
He decided to tell him later. For now, he wanted nothing more than to disappear from the world and melt against Atsushi.
They held each other, their chests so close that two hearts beat like one. The kiss varied as they explored the feel of each other’s mouth. Soft, lingering kisses made Ryūnosuke’s knees weak. Hard, fast ones made him want to pick up Atsushi and carry him back to bed.
Ryūnosuke didn’t break the kiss, and neither did Atsushi.
They were too happy to wish for more.