Gift Fic For mynamelessname (3/4)
Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4
It’s amazing they don’t crash the car on the way back. Now that they’ve given in, come clean about wanting each other, it’s like they’re different people. They barely make it out of the hotel by checkout time, Sho returning last night’s favor by pushing Jun back against the door and dropping to his knees to pay a very special kind of homage. And then in the car every traffic slowdown, every red light, is an eternity, knowing that if Jun so much as reaches his hand out that it’s all over, that he’ll just have to pull over.
They’ve been more physical, individually, with Nino than with one another ever since they’ve been living together. Nino who pokes and prods and caresses. It’s like every time Sho kept his hands to himself, every time he’s looked at Jun and wanted to play cartographer with his moles, with his every pore, he banked points. “Wanted to touch Jun today. Didn’t. 50 Points.” And Jun’s done the same. And now, now they’ve both turned up to cash in. With interest.
They pull in to the carport beside the house in the middle of the afternoon, and he’s barely put the car in park before Jun’s in his space, already reaching for him again. “These,” Jun’s murmuring in amusement, tracing along Sho’s plump lips with his thumb, “these should be illegal.”
Things have been tense for so long, so Sho isn’t feeling too guilty about giving in. Nino’s gone, off to work according to a text from at least an hour ago, so the house is theirs. It looks different now when they manage to get out of the car, get inside. Sho’s laptop, always open to some job page, can stay closed. Keito-san’s room, that forbidden zone, is now just the fourth bedroom, a spare. Empty once they hire movers to take the furniture away.
There’s still about 60 million yen scattered above their heads, and Jun all but drags Sho into his room. He’s not surprised to see the collection Jun has in his bedside table. Condoms, lube, even some toys that Sho’s not comfortable asking about just yet. It’s been so long since he’s done this and he tells Jun as much. “What, you think I couldn’t tell?” Jun says, his voice low, teasing.
Things are developing so fast. They’ve gone from hasty first kisses in a nasty hotel to sex in the house within twenty-four hours, but it feels right. It feels like it wouldn’t work if it was anyone else. Sho isn’t even sure how he likes it best, but Jun’s understanding, patient in a way he refused to be at the hotel. He waits politely for Sho to figure out if he wants to be face to face or if that’s way too embarrassing. After rolling around in a considerably unsexy fashion he’s now on his back, confused, naked as the day he was born and half-hard, telling himself that it doesn’t matter because it’s Jun and by God, he has to be amazing at any angle. Practice has almost certainly made perfect, if his toned biceps and abs aren’t living proof standing at the foot of the bed.
“Sho-san,” Jun says, and Sho hasn’t been able to stop looking at him, mapping his tongue’s next adventure in advance, changing his itinerary as soon as he spots something new he just has to try. “You’re thinking way too much about this.”
“The problem is that I don’t have a point of reference for this room,” Sho admits, trying to focus, failing when he sees how Jun licks his lips unconsciously while he’s sprawled there, defenseless. “Forgive me for being blunt, but I’ve only imagined you fucking me in the kitchen.” He declines to say anything about how Jun always cooks dinner first when these fantasies happen.
Jun shakes his head, laughing. “I just knew going up to the weird drunk guy with the Scotch and sodas would lead to good things.”
He’s thankful that Jun’s bed doesn’t creak the way the hotel’s did. He takes his sweet time, treating Sho’s inexperienced body with considerable finesse. Sho learns he could die happily just from the sensation of Jun’s fingers slowly fucking him. With one, with two, with a tempo that has Sho convinced this is preferable to whatever ridiculous ideas he had about being bent over the kitchen counter without preamble. Jun nearly sends him soaring, crooking his fingers, making Sho muffle a gasp in one of Jun’s pillows. Like someone’s actually going to hear them.
“Relax,” Jun has to tell him. “Relax, alright?”
“Easy for you to say, you do this all the time.”
If Jun’s offended, it’s not for long. He rolls on a condom and chuckles when he pulls the pillow away from Sho’s face, out of his hands. He traces his fingers along his own shoulder, drawing Sho’s attention in an instant. “If you need to, you can bite.”
Sho thinks he might take him up on the offer regardless. With each slow stroke, though, everything falls away. Sho’s nervousness, his hesitation. The house and the money and putting hundreds of miles on his car to dump a dead man’s clothes. Everything else switches off in favor of Jun’s weight, Jun’s hot breath, the sinful perfection of how their bodies align, come together. He manages to babble out something weird and too obvious like “fuck me with your cock,” which makes Jun just pick up the pace until Sho can’t manage words at all, only taking it, taking it, taking it.
He doesn’t even remember the open invitation to bite.
-
When he wakes, it’s already dark, the winter stealing away the sunlight hours as usual. He’s in the empty bed, and when he pulls on his boxers and his t-shirt, he opens the door to find Nino and Jun watching TV and realizes he should have put his jeans on too. Or at least run his fingers through his hair.
“You must be good, Jun-kun,” Nino says with a roll of his eyes, amused by Sho’s dishevelment.
He slinks back to his own room to change into something else, finding that Nino has no further comments to offer once he comes back out and joins them. Instead the three of them eat dinner and get right back to business.
Nino’s already got movers coming in the morning to haul out Keito-san’s bed, mattress, box spring, and chest of drawers. They’re being donated to charity.
“And then day after tomorrow, I’m getting a locksmith over here,” Nino says, not even looking away from the TV.
“Why?” Sho asks.
“Changing all the locks, we split it three ways,” Nino explains. “Just to be on the safe side.”
“What about the attic?” Jun asks, his eyes unconsciously drifting toward the hallway. The money that’s just sitting up there in piles, vulnerable.
“Ah, I’ve thought about that too,” Nino says, setting his plate down on the table and disappearing into his room for a minute. He comes back toting his own laptop, pulling up a DIY website. “I was thinking about installing a lock myself. Right now all you need to do is tug and there you are. It’s just asking for trouble.”
Jun’s confused, scrolling through the website on Nino’s screen. “You should have a pro do this. You’re going to electrocute yourself.”
“There’s no electricity involved,” Nino spits back.
“You’d find a way,” Jun retorts. “Hire a pro, do it right.”
“Yeah, hire a professional to install an unnecessary lock on an attic hatch. Not suspicious at all.” He nods, if only to reassure himself. “I can do it. I’ll get it done.”
Sho watches this exchange with interest. Jun seems the least concerned about the safety of their money, and it seems like Nino has taken on the brunt of the paranoia. Sho then asks something uncomfortable. “And with the attic lock, you’ll have three keys made, right?”
There’s suspicion clouding Nino’s face for only a second before he smiles, chuckling. “Well, obviously.”
“If it helps you sleep at night,” Jun says with a shrug. “Lock it up then.”
Nino disappears back into his room shortly after dinner, and it goes without saying that he and Jun will calm down, wait until they have the place alone again. It’s difficult, though, getting up to head for his room when Jun’s lying there sprawled out on the couch.
“We should go out sometime,” Sho says, halfway between the couch and the hall. “Just me and you. For dinner. We can afford to do it now.”
Jun smiles. “If Nino doesn’t bankrupt us turning this place into a bank vault first.”
Sho looks at his feet. “So uh, just so things are clear. You won’t be…with the money I mean, you won’t be going out at night anymore, right?”
“Look at me.” Jun sighs. “Sho-kun.”
He obeys, looking up in embarrassment to see Jun watching him with considerably more seriousness than he expressed during his argument with Nino. “There’s no reason for me to go anywhere if you’re here.”
It seems almost too honest an answer, and it should make Sho want to melt into a happy puddle. Things are going his way. He’s got money, more stability, and now…now he has Jun. But what if there was no money?
Would Jun have the same response to give him?
-
It’s brisk and cold, but they’re in and out of stores, in and out of Aiba’s car. “I need clothes,” was Sho’s complaint and Aiba was all too willing to give up one of his Saturdays if it meant Sho would actually be going somewhere.
They had lunch first, and Aiba had offered no comment, only a surprised arch of his eyebrows when Sho refused to let him pay his share of the tab. It had felt good, a load off his mind, to go up to the register and pay the full bill, even if it was just two daily specials and coffee. During this last extra charitable year, Aiba had always lied terribly, his portion of the bill somehow always managing to be much more than Sho’s.
They’re looking at jeans, something Aiba takes very seriously, when it finally comes up. “How are things with that weird guy? The criminal?”
Sho nearly bumps into a clothing rack, clutching the different pairs he’s selected in his arms. “Who?”
“You told me his name, I can’t remember. The fourth guy.”
“Oh,” Sho says, turning his back on Aiba and pretending to look interested in some belts. Aiba knows. Aiba knows there was a fourth person living at the house. And with enough prompting, he’d probably be able to remember Keito-san’s name. How could Sho have forgotten such a huge loose end? “He moved out. Just after the New Year.”
“Well I’m glad to hear it,” Aiba’s saying, his voice cheerful as always. “We were worried about you, living with someone like that, Sho-chan.”
“He’s gone now. No big deal. Other things are…happening.” Maybe Aiba will forget completely about Keito-san if he’s got something else to chew on. “With the guy I told you about. The guy who asked me to move in from the start.”
Aiba’s got an arm around him in an instant. “No wonder you look so happy! Since when? Since when, I want to know!”
Though Sho wants to buy the entire stack of jeans he’s got, he doesn’t need to arouse Aiba’s curiosity any more today. He settles for three pairs, and once he’s paid for them, Aiba drags him up and down the walkways of the outlet mall, prying every detail he can out of Sho about Jun. Jun’s a safe subject, and Aiba’s always been so damn interested in how the whole “being gay thing” works that Sho will tell him anything he wants to know if it means Aiba just fucking forgets Sho ever had a fourth housemate.
They’re on their way home when Aiba slaps the steering wheel, laughing. “We got through all of this and I didn’t say anything.”
“About what?”
Aiba’s grinning from ear to ear as he explains that his father-in-law, Becky’s father, has a few openings at his company right now. The family runs a small chain of pet supply stores, and before Sho can be a little insulted that Aiba wants him to start selling hamster food, Aiba explains that it’s a job in the corporate offices in Yokohama. “Supply chain something or other,” Aiba says weakly, not knowing as much about it as he thought he did. “You’d be coordinating shipments from the warehouse to the stores. You’d be good at that, Sho-chan, I know you would.”
It’s a far cry from geography teacher, but Becky’s ready and willing to put in a good word for Sho with her dad, allowing them to easily skip over the tricky business of how Sho left his last position. All he has to do is say yes, and Becky will get the ball rolling.
“It would be a bit of a commute from where you are,” Aiba admits, “but if you’ve got a new job, you could move anyhow once you start saving again.”
There’s not one logical reason to turn Aiba down. This is the best offer, hell, the only offer Sho’s gotten in months. Earning money legitimately, too. Nothing to feel guilty about. Sure it’s a job falling into his lap, an offer he wouldn’t have gotten if he didn’t happen to know the company president’s daughter’s husband so well, but it’s a chance to prove himself.
He’s got the bag of jeans, t-shirts, socks sitting at his feet as Aiba drives them back toward the house. The bag of clothes purchased with money Sho did nothing to earn. “Set it up,” he tells Aiba. “And thank you.”
-
Keito-san’s room is completely empty, the house locks are changed, and Nino’s spent the past several days teaching himself how to secure their investments upstairs. After a ton of drilling and cursing and not having the right tools, he’s managed to do it. They have to get on a step-stool now, twist a key in the lock to disengage the attic stairs. At least while he’s played at carpentry he took the time to oil the hinges. Though they still make noise, it’s a lot smoother now to pull it down.
Nino’s had them test it with each of the three keys he’s had made to ensure fairness, and then he lays out all the receipts for what he’s bought to install the new lock, splitting the cost three ways. Sho doesn’t complain, handing over his share, but Jun’s a little annoyed, using his new key and stomping upstairs, returning with what he owes.
“We’re not going to be here forever,” Jun says. “It’s all a bit much.”
“Then go make a 20 million yen deposit at the bank out of nowhere and see how they react,” Nino says, insulting Jun further by counting the bills he hands over. “Or stuff it in your pillowcase like Keito-san.”
They haven’t so much as spoken Keito-san’s name aloud in the weeks since they’ve taken his money, and it’s still got shock value behind it. It gets Jun to shut up about it, and Sho just doesn’t want to rock the boat. Sho makes sure to pay Nino, to keep things fair, but then he listens to Jun at night, Jun with his big ideas.
Sho’s told Jun about Yokohama, about the job, and if he gets it, his commute time will be an hour and a half and approximately three trains. On a good day. Jun thinks they should get a place closer, once Sho settles in and decides if he likes it or not. The implication, unspoken, is that it’ll just be the two of them. Otherwise, Jun would surely be unafraid to have this conversation in front of Nino.
“I have too many bad memories here,” Jun whispers in the dark, tracing his fingers along Sho’s collarbone. “We can use my money to do it, if it makes you uncomfortable to spend so much.”
“Maybe,” Sho replies, not wanting to commit so quickly. Not because he doesn’t want that with Jun. He’s never been so sure of something in his life. But because it doesn’t seem right to exclude Nino, to decide these things behind his back. Sho’s almost disappointed in Jun. It was Nino who found him at that high school reunion, Nino who got Jun a place to live in the first place. Shouldn’t that matter more to him?
Sho’s not saying the three of them have to keep living together. It can’t be fun for Nino to live with a fairly new couple, knowing that as soon as he leaves for work that they’re probably having sex and that they probably have sex even when he’s home. Which is true. Sho just thinks plans like Jun’s, big life-altering plans, should be made with at least Nino’s knowledge, especially if he keeps investing funds in upgrading the security of their current house. There’s no point if they’ll be leaving soon.
“I think we’d all be happier,” Jun mumbles, brushing a kiss to Sho’s temple. “Living anywhere else.”
-
Sho’s almost forgotten what it’s like to get up in the morning, cram on board trains, and be a part of the daily crush. It’s almost invigorating in its normality. Wearing a suit, grabbing any spare strap he can manage as the train speeds along. By the fourth day sitting in a small cubicle at Emerald Pet Friends headquarters, drinking the bland coffee and making small talk about what he watched on television the previous night, Sho’s filled with an absurd happiness he can hardly contemplate.
They know he’s friends with the head honcho’s daughter, but that was already irrelevant by his second day. Everyone gets where they are for different reasons. All that matters is if he can fit where they need him, and he can. Dealing with the warehouse, fielding supply calls from stores, it’s a cake walk compared to standing up in front of thirty-five uninterested teenagers and asking them to explain the difference between a strait and an isthmus.
He keeps a spreadsheet open, tracking the money that’ll come in his first paycheck at the end of the month. He’s got it figured out down to the hour, how much he’s bringing in, and he thinks maybe he could take that amount out of the stash in the attic, donate it to charity once that check comes in. Or more selfishly, he’ll use the attic money to pay his fair share of the rent and bills and take the paycheck from Emerald and use it to take Jun out for dinner.
Jun’s happy for him, bordering on almost competitive jealousy. When Sho comes home, loosening his tie, exhausted from the commute, Jun wants to know everything about his day, every boring little thing. Nino makes gagging noises and vanishes back into his room. Jun’s missed that life though, every boring bit of it. Sho wonders if he should ask Aiba what other tricks he has up his sleeve, if he can find something for someone with Jun’s qualifications.
But again, it’s only been four days.
By the end of his fifth day and the end of the work week, Sho’s feeling great. He’s invited for a drink with his new colleagues in the logistics and merchandising department, a group of folks who are friendly and harmless and just assume Sho got disillusioned with teaching. They go for one beer, because Sho says he has to get home, but the camaraderie is too welcoming for him to say no to beers number two, three, four, and five.
He’s gleeful when he gets off his last train, moves along through the shopping district and back toward the house. He barely notices the man standing in the carport until he’s almost to the front door.
“Hey,” Sho calls out, and the guy’s standing under the faint outdoor light attached to the side of the house. He might have been looking into Sho’s car. “Hey, this is private property.”
Sho thinks the guy’s got the wrong address because he’s got a strange look on his face when he approaches, his eyes darting all around. He’s short, small like Nino but with a rounder face. Sho’s age, maybe older. He’s in a bulky winter coat and a knit hat, and the first words out of his tiny little mouth are “I’m sorry, but are you Ninomiya Kazunari?”
Sho shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”
“I was told Ninomiya Kazunari lives here,” the guy says, and his voice is very calm.
“Who are you?”
Despite his calm demeanor, he’s persistent. “Does Ninomiya Kazunari live here?”
Sho rolls his eyes, veering toward impolite because he’s letting the alcohol speak for him. “Who’s asking?”
“I’m Ohno,” the guy says warily.
“Well I think you have the wrong house, sorry.”
“Is that so? I had it on good authority.”
“Whose?”
“Shibasaki Keito’s.”
In that instant, Sho knows he’s given up the game because he sees the calm, cheerful face of this “Ohno” change. He sees through Sho’s lies, his eyes narrowing. But Sho keeps trying to cover, and badly. “I don’t know who that is. I think you have the wrong house.”
Ohno nods. “Sorry to bother you then. Must have my wires crossed. Good night.”
Sho holds fast to his briefcase, unable to let his eyes leave this Ohno as he calmly strolls toward the street, heading back toward the main road. He watches him until he disappears into the darkness. And then he’s hurrying, nearly dropping his keys as he turns them in the locks. Nino’s got it set up now that there’s two and there’s a key he needs for each.
He slams the door behind him, hands shaking as he turns the locks, even throws the crappy chain that Carpenter Ninomiya has just added on in another burst of paranoia the other day. And now Sho knows that paranoia is justified. He’s sobering up, but not quickly enough because when he gets in he can’t even get Nino’s name out.
“Ni…Kazu…Nino…”
Jun sighs. “You’re late, we ate without you.”
“Nino,” Sho says, waving his hand. He hasn’t taken off his coat or his shoes, and he sees how much quicker Nino is to notice. “Nino!”
Nino’s out of his seat, tugging on him, pulling him to the couch. “What? What the hell’s wrong with you?”
The pure terror rushing through Sho is making his chest ache. He had his issues with Keito-san, but now he knows exactly what Jun was feeling any time the man came home. He feels it now, a pounding like drums. He somehow manages to recreate what happened only moments earlier. The man in the carport, the man looking around for Nino. Shibasaki Keito. He knew to come to the house because of Shibasaki Keito.
“Do you know him?” Jun asks, and his eyes are huge, owlish with fear. “Do you know this person?”
Nino’s pacing the room, scratching his arm with his fingernails, shaking his head. “No, no I don’t know anyone named Ohno. You’re absolutely sure that’s what he called himself?”
“Ohno. He said Ohno.” Sho describes the man again, his puffy coat. “He looked…he looked normal, you know. He didn’t look like a bad person.”
“What are we going to do?” Jun asks, his voice almost hysterically, comically high.
“If he comes by again, we should call the cops,” Sho thinks out loud, but Nino barks out a laugh.
“You’re kidding right? You’re funny, Sho-chan.”
“He knows your god damn name!” Jun shouts. “This is on you!”
“I don’t even fucking know this person!” Nino shouts back.
“Well he left,” Sho says, trying to defuse the bomb set to explode in their living room any minute. “Maybe he bought it, that he had the wrong place. It’s over.”
Nino’s laughing now. “It’s not over. Fuck. Of course it’s not over…”
Sho’s just completed his first week of work. He’s finally feeling human again, useful. Earning his own way. The decision they’ve made, the decision about the money, makes him realize that they’ll never be safe, never again so long as they’re in this house.
“We could look for another place,” Sho suggests quietly.
“If this guy has my name, it doesn’t matter where we go,” Nino mumbles, and Jun catches Sho’s eye. The implication in Jun’s look speaks volumes. Then you don’t have to come with us, Jun’s saying. Ohno only knows your name.
But what if he doesn’t? What if he knows the names Matsumoto Jun and Sakurai Sho, too?
“There’s a shop in Akiba,” Nino says calmly a few moments later. “Camera equipment, monitors. I’ll get them installed.”
“You really will electrocute yourself this time,” Jun complains. “That’s all wiring.”
“I’ll do it right,” Nino asserts. “We’ll put them outside the house. Can get motion detector lights. I’m good at this.” He’s still scratching his arm, too hard, leaving streaks from his nails. “I’m good at this.”
Why all this trouble when they should just leave? Now that this guy has Nino’s name, Sho thinks, Nino should get the hell out of Tokyo. He’s got the money for it. But he thinks of the Nino he’s known from the start, the Nino who feels most comfortable locked up in his room. He’s allowed this house to turn into the castle he needs to defend, one of his games come to life.
And it might get him hurt. Or worse.
-
Jun informs them a few days later that he’s waiting tables at a cafe, and when Sho pulls up the place on a map, it’s in Yokohama, further from the house than even Sho’s new job. It’s a warning shot, fired to get a reaction. Jun will spend a huge chunk of his paycheck getting to and from the place, unless of course they move.
Nino doesn’t react at all. He simply lays out receipt after receipt for the things he’s purchased. Sho comes home from work now and Jun’s not back yet. Nino’s in his room, and instead of moaning women or victory music, it’s the sounds of how-to videos. There are tools strewn all across the living room, wires in heaps, a clump of boxes in the hall that apparently have monitors inside so they can see who’s approaching the house 24/7.
Sho starts paying Jun’s share and his own to Nino for all the equipment he’s buying. If Nino knows Sho is doing this, he doesn’t say anything.
“How’s the new job working out? Becky hopes it’s not too boring for someone smart like you.” Aiba texts him. “You should come by for dinner. You should bring your Jun.”
He says maybe next week, or the week after. Jun’s just started a new job, after all, things are busy.
One night Sho comes home, having contented himself with the texts Jun’s sent him during his break and while Sho was on the train. Rowdy high school kids, middle-aged women in too much make-up. How he hopes Sho doesn’t mind if he smells like greasy food. He manages to unlock the door, and as soon as he’s out of the genkan and into the living room, Nino’s bedroom door opens.
He looks smaller, and Sho can tell he’s losing weight. Sho wonders how often he eats. His eyes have always been tired, raccoon-like, purple circles from not sleeping enough. They’re worse now, bloodshot. But he’s smiling so bright that Sho doesn’t want to nag him. “Sho-chan, I saw you coming. Look, come here. Look.”
His cold fingers wrap around Sho’s wrist, and for the first time in weeks Sho is invited into the inner sanctum, Nino’s bedroom. Where the bed ought to be, there’s just boxes, foam peanuts, instruction manuals. Wires. More wires. But the monitors are set up, the ones that have been in the hall. Nino’s unboxed them, stacked them, hooked them all up. There’s six of them right now. The carport, the front entryway, kitchen door, other points around the house. They’re not the most advanced by any means, but Nino’s so proud of himself.
“I saw you coming,” Nino says again, patting his monitors proudly. “We have nothing to worry about.”
And then he’s darting off, past Sho, quick on his feet like a fox. There are new receipts on the table, and Sho doesn’t even ask what he’s bought this time. “Jun and I can pay you in the morning, how’s that? I’ll tell him what it’s for.”
Nino grins at him, drowning in his too-big sweatshirt. During a break at work that day, Sho had checked a news site. The chain of net cafes shuttered its doors three weeks ago. Nino’s been out of work for three weeks and hasn’t said a word about it to him or Jun.
“Of course, of course,” Nino says, wrapping a thin arm around Sho’s back. “I know you’re good for it. You’ve been pretty good lately.”
Alarm bells sound in Sho’s head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you haven’t been spending much,” Nino says. He fishes around in the front pocket of his sweatshirt, looking like an emaciated kangaroo. He unfolds a sheet of paper that’s almost falling apart. Across the top of the paper are three names, split into columns. Ninomiya. Matsumoto. Sakurai. And then beneath, the numbers.
“See, Sho-chan, see here,” Nino says, his finger skimming down the Sakurai column. Sho sees each deduction, each new update. It’s down to the very last yen. And it’s accurate. “See, you’ve been good, but Jun-kun got some more of that cream he thinks is going to make him look 20 again. He’s fooling himself, but we love him just the way he is, tell him that.”
Sho sees how much quicker the Matsumoto total is going down. Even with Sho paying Jun’s share of the housing expenses, Jun’s not shy about spending. He’s already down below 15 million of his 21 million yen in a matter of weeks. He’s told Sho he’s “put some” in the bank for safe keeping, but that’s a lot more than some.
“Nino, are you counting our money?” Sho asks, even though he already knows the answer. Sho hasn’t done so much as glance at the north or south corners of the attic. He’s only taken what he’s needed from under the blanket in the east.
“I’m not taking it,” Nino says, face completely honest and open. “I just didn’t know if you were keeping track, so I thought it would help you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s…it’s okay,” Sho says, even though it’s not.
“I’ll stop,” he insists, tearing the piece of paper up right in front of Sho. The pieces fall like snow to the living room floor while other bits stick against Nino’s sweatshirt. “I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
“Your monitors,” Sho says, his stomach in knots. “You did a good job.”
Nino smiles again. “I think so too. Let that Ohno come back. He won’t come in. I’ll see him coming.”
He vanishes back into his room a short time later, and when Jun comes in the door, he finds Sho crouched down on the floor picking up the bits of paper Nino had torn up.
“Fourteen million, eight hundred and six thousand,” Sho says, getting to his feet. “Give or take.”
Jun’s confused. “Hello to you too.”
“It’s how much money you have left upstairs,” Sho replies quietly. He steps closer, putting a hand on Jun’s shoulder. “Nino’s counting.”
Jun doesn’t even know what to say, crossing his arms and staring blankly for several scary moments. There’s something wrong with Nino, Sho knows it and Jun has to know it, but what can they do? What the hell can they do?
He waits until they’re in Jun’s room, teeth brushed and getting ready for bed. Sho’s in here half the time now, if only because work has cut back on the hours they have together. He tells Jun all about the monitors, about the new receipts on the table.
“I’ve jotted down some places. I was looking last night,” Jun says once they’ve got the lights out, on their backs staring at the ceiling. “I don’t know what you want. Two bedrooms, one bedroom…don’t feel like you have to say yes to one bedroom so soon, I’m not…”
“Did you not hear a thing I just told you? He’s not eating. He’s not sleeping…”
“And he’s counting our money. He’s going up there, and he’s putting his paws all over it, and how do you even know he’s telling the truth? How do you know he isn’t pilfering from us? A few hundred here, a few thousand there.”
“Jun…”
“He was bullied. In high school,” Jun says quietly. “So was I, and I’m sure you can guess why. But Nino, he was smarter than all of them, and they didn’t like it. They beat the shit out of him, all the time, until he stopped coming. They all seemed to forget about it when they sent out the invites to the reunion. I found him outside, smoking. Neither of us actually went inside. I remembered him, the kid they tortured. And he remembered me for the same thing.”
“He’s not well.”
“I don’t think he has been, for a long time,” Jun admits, and Sho shuts his eyes.
“We can’t leave him.”
“I know that.”
“But you still want to.” Sho turns onto his side, brushing his fingers along Jun’s arm. “You told me that you weren’t the person you wanted to be. Is that still true?”
“I don’t even know anymore.” He lets out a slow, shuddering breath. “Are you?”
Sho doesn’t know either.
Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4
It’s amazing they don’t crash the car on the way back. Now that they’ve given in, come clean about wanting each other, it’s like they’re different people. They barely make it out of the hotel by checkout time, Sho returning last night’s favor by pushing Jun back against the door and dropping to his knees to pay a very special kind of homage. And then in the car every traffic slowdown, every red light, is an eternity, knowing that if Jun so much as reaches his hand out that it’s all over, that he’ll just have to pull over.
They’ve been more physical, individually, with Nino than with one another ever since they’ve been living together. Nino who pokes and prods and caresses. It’s like every time Sho kept his hands to himself, every time he’s looked at Jun and wanted to play cartographer with his moles, with his every pore, he banked points. “Wanted to touch Jun today. Didn’t. 50 Points.” And Jun’s done the same. And now, now they’ve both turned up to cash in. With interest.
They pull in to the carport beside the house in the middle of the afternoon, and he’s barely put the car in park before Jun’s in his space, already reaching for him again. “These,” Jun’s murmuring in amusement, tracing along Sho’s plump lips with his thumb, “these should be illegal.”
Things have been tense for so long, so Sho isn’t feeling too guilty about giving in. Nino’s gone, off to work according to a text from at least an hour ago, so the house is theirs. It looks different now when they manage to get out of the car, get inside. Sho’s laptop, always open to some job page, can stay closed. Keito-san’s room, that forbidden zone, is now just the fourth bedroom, a spare. Empty once they hire movers to take the furniture away.
There’s still about 60 million yen scattered above their heads, and Jun all but drags Sho into his room. He’s not surprised to see the collection Jun has in his bedside table. Condoms, lube, even some toys that Sho’s not comfortable asking about just yet. It’s been so long since he’s done this and he tells Jun as much. “What, you think I couldn’t tell?” Jun says, his voice low, teasing.
Things are developing so fast. They’ve gone from hasty first kisses in a nasty hotel to sex in the house within twenty-four hours, but it feels right. It feels like it wouldn’t work if it was anyone else. Sho isn’t even sure how he likes it best, but Jun’s understanding, patient in a way he refused to be at the hotel. He waits politely for Sho to figure out if he wants to be face to face or if that’s way too embarrassing. After rolling around in a considerably unsexy fashion he’s now on his back, confused, naked as the day he was born and half-hard, telling himself that it doesn’t matter because it’s Jun and by God, he has to be amazing at any angle. Practice has almost certainly made perfect, if his toned biceps and abs aren’t living proof standing at the foot of the bed.
“Sho-san,” Jun says, and Sho hasn’t been able to stop looking at him, mapping his tongue’s next adventure in advance, changing his itinerary as soon as he spots something new he just has to try. “You’re thinking way too much about this.”
“The problem is that I don’t have a point of reference for this room,” Sho admits, trying to focus, failing when he sees how Jun licks his lips unconsciously while he’s sprawled there, defenseless. “Forgive me for being blunt, but I’ve only imagined you fucking me in the kitchen.” He declines to say anything about how Jun always cooks dinner first when these fantasies happen.
Jun shakes his head, laughing. “I just knew going up to the weird drunk guy with the Scotch and sodas would lead to good things.”
He’s thankful that Jun’s bed doesn’t creak the way the hotel’s did. He takes his sweet time, treating Sho’s inexperienced body with considerable finesse. Sho learns he could die happily just from the sensation of Jun’s fingers slowly fucking him. With one, with two, with a tempo that has Sho convinced this is preferable to whatever ridiculous ideas he had about being bent over the kitchen counter without preamble. Jun nearly sends him soaring, crooking his fingers, making Sho muffle a gasp in one of Jun’s pillows. Like someone’s actually going to hear them.
“Relax,” Jun has to tell him. “Relax, alright?”
“Easy for you to say, you do this all the time.”
If Jun’s offended, it’s not for long. He rolls on a condom and chuckles when he pulls the pillow away from Sho’s face, out of his hands. He traces his fingers along his own shoulder, drawing Sho’s attention in an instant. “If you need to, you can bite.”
Sho thinks he might take him up on the offer regardless. With each slow stroke, though, everything falls away. Sho’s nervousness, his hesitation. The house and the money and putting hundreds of miles on his car to dump a dead man’s clothes. Everything else switches off in favor of Jun’s weight, Jun’s hot breath, the sinful perfection of how their bodies align, come together. He manages to babble out something weird and too obvious like “fuck me with your cock,” which makes Jun just pick up the pace until Sho can’t manage words at all, only taking it, taking it, taking it.
He doesn’t even remember the open invitation to bite.
-
When he wakes, it’s already dark, the winter stealing away the sunlight hours as usual. He’s in the empty bed, and when he pulls on his boxers and his t-shirt, he opens the door to find Nino and Jun watching TV and realizes he should have put his jeans on too. Or at least run his fingers through his hair.
“You must be good, Jun-kun,” Nino says with a roll of his eyes, amused by Sho’s dishevelment.
He slinks back to his own room to change into something else, finding that Nino has no further comments to offer once he comes back out and joins them. Instead the three of them eat dinner and get right back to business.
Nino’s already got movers coming in the morning to haul out Keito-san’s bed, mattress, box spring, and chest of drawers. They’re being donated to charity.
“And then day after tomorrow, I’m getting a locksmith over here,” Nino says, not even looking away from the TV.
“Why?” Sho asks.
“Changing all the locks, we split it three ways,” Nino explains. “Just to be on the safe side.”
“What about the attic?” Jun asks, his eyes unconsciously drifting toward the hallway. The money that’s just sitting up there in piles, vulnerable.
“Ah, I’ve thought about that too,” Nino says, setting his plate down on the table and disappearing into his room for a minute. He comes back toting his own laptop, pulling up a DIY website. “I was thinking about installing a lock myself. Right now all you need to do is tug and there you are. It’s just asking for trouble.”
Jun’s confused, scrolling through the website on Nino’s screen. “You should have a pro do this. You’re going to electrocute yourself.”
“There’s no electricity involved,” Nino spits back.
“You’d find a way,” Jun retorts. “Hire a pro, do it right.”
“Yeah, hire a professional to install an unnecessary lock on an attic hatch. Not suspicious at all.” He nods, if only to reassure himself. “I can do it. I’ll get it done.”
Sho watches this exchange with interest. Jun seems the least concerned about the safety of their money, and it seems like Nino has taken on the brunt of the paranoia. Sho then asks something uncomfortable. “And with the attic lock, you’ll have three keys made, right?”
There’s suspicion clouding Nino’s face for only a second before he smiles, chuckling. “Well, obviously.”
“If it helps you sleep at night,” Jun says with a shrug. “Lock it up then.”
Nino disappears back into his room shortly after dinner, and it goes without saying that he and Jun will calm down, wait until they have the place alone again. It’s difficult, though, getting up to head for his room when Jun’s lying there sprawled out on the couch.
“We should go out sometime,” Sho says, halfway between the couch and the hall. “Just me and you. For dinner. We can afford to do it now.”
Jun smiles. “If Nino doesn’t bankrupt us turning this place into a bank vault first.”
Sho looks at his feet. “So uh, just so things are clear. You won’t be…with the money I mean, you won’t be going out at night anymore, right?”
“Look at me.” Jun sighs. “Sho-kun.”
He obeys, looking up in embarrassment to see Jun watching him with considerably more seriousness than he expressed during his argument with Nino. “There’s no reason for me to go anywhere if you’re here.”
It seems almost too honest an answer, and it should make Sho want to melt into a happy puddle. Things are going his way. He’s got money, more stability, and now…now he has Jun. But what if there was no money?
Would Jun have the same response to give him?
-
It’s brisk and cold, but they’re in and out of stores, in and out of Aiba’s car. “I need clothes,” was Sho’s complaint and Aiba was all too willing to give up one of his Saturdays if it meant Sho would actually be going somewhere.
They had lunch first, and Aiba had offered no comment, only a surprised arch of his eyebrows when Sho refused to let him pay his share of the tab. It had felt good, a load off his mind, to go up to the register and pay the full bill, even if it was just two daily specials and coffee. During this last extra charitable year, Aiba had always lied terribly, his portion of the bill somehow always managing to be much more than Sho’s.
They’re looking at jeans, something Aiba takes very seriously, when it finally comes up. “How are things with that weird guy? The criminal?”
Sho nearly bumps into a clothing rack, clutching the different pairs he’s selected in his arms. “Who?”
“You told me his name, I can’t remember. The fourth guy.”
“Oh,” Sho says, turning his back on Aiba and pretending to look interested in some belts. Aiba knows. Aiba knows there was a fourth person living at the house. And with enough prompting, he’d probably be able to remember Keito-san’s name. How could Sho have forgotten such a huge loose end? “He moved out. Just after the New Year.”
“Well I’m glad to hear it,” Aiba’s saying, his voice cheerful as always. “We were worried about you, living with someone like that, Sho-chan.”
“He’s gone now. No big deal. Other things are…happening.” Maybe Aiba will forget completely about Keito-san if he’s got something else to chew on. “With the guy I told you about. The guy who asked me to move in from the start.”
Aiba’s got an arm around him in an instant. “No wonder you look so happy! Since when? Since when, I want to know!”
Though Sho wants to buy the entire stack of jeans he’s got, he doesn’t need to arouse Aiba’s curiosity any more today. He settles for three pairs, and once he’s paid for them, Aiba drags him up and down the walkways of the outlet mall, prying every detail he can out of Sho about Jun. Jun’s a safe subject, and Aiba’s always been so damn interested in how the whole “being gay thing” works that Sho will tell him anything he wants to know if it means Aiba just fucking forgets Sho ever had a fourth housemate.
They’re on their way home when Aiba slaps the steering wheel, laughing. “We got through all of this and I didn’t say anything.”
“About what?”
Aiba’s grinning from ear to ear as he explains that his father-in-law, Becky’s father, has a few openings at his company right now. The family runs a small chain of pet supply stores, and before Sho can be a little insulted that Aiba wants him to start selling hamster food, Aiba explains that it’s a job in the corporate offices in Yokohama. “Supply chain something or other,” Aiba says weakly, not knowing as much about it as he thought he did. “You’d be coordinating shipments from the warehouse to the stores. You’d be good at that, Sho-chan, I know you would.”
It’s a far cry from geography teacher, but Becky’s ready and willing to put in a good word for Sho with her dad, allowing them to easily skip over the tricky business of how Sho left his last position. All he has to do is say yes, and Becky will get the ball rolling.
“It would be a bit of a commute from where you are,” Aiba admits, “but if you’ve got a new job, you could move anyhow once you start saving again.”
There’s not one logical reason to turn Aiba down. This is the best offer, hell, the only offer Sho’s gotten in months. Earning money legitimately, too. Nothing to feel guilty about. Sure it’s a job falling into his lap, an offer he wouldn’t have gotten if he didn’t happen to know the company president’s daughter’s husband so well, but it’s a chance to prove himself.
He’s got the bag of jeans, t-shirts, socks sitting at his feet as Aiba drives them back toward the house. The bag of clothes purchased with money Sho did nothing to earn. “Set it up,” he tells Aiba. “And thank you.”
-
Keito-san’s room is completely empty, the house locks are changed, and Nino’s spent the past several days teaching himself how to secure their investments upstairs. After a ton of drilling and cursing and not having the right tools, he’s managed to do it. They have to get on a step-stool now, twist a key in the lock to disengage the attic stairs. At least while he’s played at carpentry he took the time to oil the hinges. Though they still make noise, it’s a lot smoother now to pull it down.
Nino’s had them test it with each of the three keys he’s had made to ensure fairness, and then he lays out all the receipts for what he’s bought to install the new lock, splitting the cost three ways. Sho doesn’t complain, handing over his share, but Jun’s a little annoyed, using his new key and stomping upstairs, returning with what he owes.
“We’re not going to be here forever,” Jun says. “It’s all a bit much.”
“Then go make a 20 million yen deposit at the bank out of nowhere and see how they react,” Nino says, insulting Jun further by counting the bills he hands over. “Or stuff it in your pillowcase like Keito-san.”
They haven’t so much as spoken Keito-san’s name aloud in the weeks since they’ve taken his money, and it’s still got shock value behind it. It gets Jun to shut up about it, and Sho just doesn’t want to rock the boat. Sho makes sure to pay Nino, to keep things fair, but then he listens to Jun at night, Jun with his big ideas.
Sho’s told Jun about Yokohama, about the job, and if he gets it, his commute time will be an hour and a half and approximately three trains. On a good day. Jun thinks they should get a place closer, once Sho settles in and decides if he likes it or not. The implication, unspoken, is that it’ll just be the two of them. Otherwise, Jun would surely be unafraid to have this conversation in front of Nino.
“I have too many bad memories here,” Jun whispers in the dark, tracing his fingers along Sho’s collarbone. “We can use my money to do it, if it makes you uncomfortable to spend so much.”
“Maybe,” Sho replies, not wanting to commit so quickly. Not because he doesn’t want that with Jun. He’s never been so sure of something in his life. But because it doesn’t seem right to exclude Nino, to decide these things behind his back. Sho’s almost disappointed in Jun. It was Nino who found him at that high school reunion, Nino who got Jun a place to live in the first place. Shouldn’t that matter more to him?
Sho’s not saying the three of them have to keep living together. It can’t be fun for Nino to live with a fairly new couple, knowing that as soon as he leaves for work that they’re probably having sex and that they probably have sex even when he’s home. Which is true. Sho just thinks plans like Jun’s, big life-altering plans, should be made with at least Nino’s knowledge, especially if he keeps investing funds in upgrading the security of their current house. There’s no point if they’ll be leaving soon.
“I think we’d all be happier,” Jun mumbles, brushing a kiss to Sho’s temple. “Living anywhere else.”
-
Sho’s almost forgotten what it’s like to get up in the morning, cram on board trains, and be a part of the daily crush. It’s almost invigorating in its normality. Wearing a suit, grabbing any spare strap he can manage as the train speeds along. By the fourth day sitting in a small cubicle at Emerald Pet Friends headquarters, drinking the bland coffee and making small talk about what he watched on television the previous night, Sho’s filled with an absurd happiness he can hardly contemplate.
They know he’s friends with the head honcho’s daughter, but that was already irrelevant by his second day. Everyone gets where they are for different reasons. All that matters is if he can fit where they need him, and he can. Dealing with the warehouse, fielding supply calls from stores, it’s a cake walk compared to standing up in front of thirty-five uninterested teenagers and asking them to explain the difference between a strait and an isthmus.
He keeps a spreadsheet open, tracking the money that’ll come in his first paycheck at the end of the month. He’s got it figured out down to the hour, how much he’s bringing in, and he thinks maybe he could take that amount out of the stash in the attic, donate it to charity once that check comes in. Or more selfishly, he’ll use the attic money to pay his fair share of the rent and bills and take the paycheck from Emerald and use it to take Jun out for dinner.
Jun’s happy for him, bordering on almost competitive jealousy. When Sho comes home, loosening his tie, exhausted from the commute, Jun wants to know everything about his day, every boring little thing. Nino makes gagging noises and vanishes back into his room. Jun’s missed that life though, every boring bit of it. Sho wonders if he should ask Aiba what other tricks he has up his sleeve, if he can find something for someone with Jun’s qualifications.
But again, it’s only been four days.
By the end of his fifth day and the end of the work week, Sho’s feeling great. He’s invited for a drink with his new colleagues in the logistics and merchandising department, a group of folks who are friendly and harmless and just assume Sho got disillusioned with teaching. They go for one beer, because Sho says he has to get home, but the camaraderie is too welcoming for him to say no to beers number two, three, four, and five.
He’s gleeful when he gets off his last train, moves along through the shopping district and back toward the house. He barely notices the man standing in the carport until he’s almost to the front door.
“Hey,” Sho calls out, and the guy’s standing under the faint outdoor light attached to the side of the house. He might have been looking into Sho’s car. “Hey, this is private property.”
Sho thinks the guy’s got the wrong address because he’s got a strange look on his face when he approaches, his eyes darting all around. He’s short, small like Nino but with a rounder face. Sho’s age, maybe older. He’s in a bulky winter coat and a knit hat, and the first words out of his tiny little mouth are “I’m sorry, but are you Ninomiya Kazunari?”
Sho shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”
“I was told Ninomiya Kazunari lives here,” the guy says, and his voice is very calm.
“Who are you?”
Despite his calm demeanor, he’s persistent. “Does Ninomiya Kazunari live here?”
Sho rolls his eyes, veering toward impolite because he’s letting the alcohol speak for him. “Who’s asking?”
“I’m Ohno,” the guy says warily.
“Well I think you have the wrong house, sorry.”
“Is that so? I had it on good authority.”
“Whose?”
“Shibasaki Keito’s.”
In that instant, Sho knows he’s given up the game because he sees the calm, cheerful face of this “Ohno” change. He sees through Sho’s lies, his eyes narrowing. But Sho keeps trying to cover, and badly. “I don’t know who that is. I think you have the wrong house.”
Ohno nods. “Sorry to bother you then. Must have my wires crossed. Good night.”
Sho holds fast to his briefcase, unable to let his eyes leave this Ohno as he calmly strolls toward the street, heading back toward the main road. He watches him until he disappears into the darkness. And then he’s hurrying, nearly dropping his keys as he turns them in the locks. Nino’s got it set up now that there’s two and there’s a key he needs for each.
He slams the door behind him, hands shaking as he turns the locks, even throws the crappy chain that Carpenter Ninomiya has just added on in another burst of paranoia the other day. And now Sho knows that paranoia is justified. He’s sobering up, but not quickly enough because when he gets in he can’t even get Nino’s name out.
“Ni…Kazu…Nino…”
Jun sighs. “You’re late, we ate without you.”
“Nino,” Sho says, waving his hand. He hasn’t taken off his coat or his shoes, and he sees how much quicker Nino is to notice. “Nino!”
Nino’s out of his seat, tugging on him, pulling him to the couch. “What? What the hell’s wrong with you?”
The pure terror rushing through Sho is making his chest ache. He had his issues with Keito-san, but now he knows exactly what Jun was feeling any time the man came home. He feels it now, a pounding like drums. He somehow manages to recreate what happened only moments earlier. The man in the carport, the man looking around for Nino. Shibasaki Keito. He knew to come to the house because of Shibasaki Keito.
“Do you know him?” Jun asks, and his eyes are huge, owlish with fear. “Do you know this person?”
Nino’s pacing the room, scratching his arm with his fingernails, shaking his head. “No, no I don’t know anyone named Ohno. You’re absolutely sure that’s what he called himself?”
“Ohno. He said Ohno.” Sho describes the man again, his puffy coat. “He looked…he looked normal, you know. He didn’t look like a bad person.”
“What are we going to do?” Jun asks, his voice almost hysterically, comically high.
“If he comes by again, we should call the cops,” Sho thinks out loud, but Nino barks out a laugh.
“You’re kidding right? You’re funny, Sho-chan.”
“He knows your god damn name!” Jun shouts. “This is on you!”
“I don’t even fucking know this person!” Nino shouts back.
“Well he left,” Sho says, trying to defuse the bomb set to explode in their living room any minute. “Maybe he bought it, that he had the wrong place. It’s over.”
Nino’s laughing now. “It’s not over. Fuck. Of course it’s not over…”
Sho’s just completed his first week of work. He’s finally feeling human again, useful. Earning his own way. The decision they’ve made, the decision about the money, makes him realize that they’ll never be safe, never again so long as they’re in this house.
“We could look for another place,” Sho suggests quietly.
“If this guy has my name, it doesn’t matter where we go,” Nino mumbles, and Jun catches Sho’s eye. The implication in Jun’s look speaks volumes. Then you don’t have to come with us, Jun’s saying. Ohno only knows your name.
But what if he doesn’t? What if he knows the names Matsumoto Jun and Sakurai Sho, too?
“There’s a shop in Akiba,” Nino says calmly a few moments later. “Camera equipment, monitors. I’ll get them installed.”
“You really will electrocute yourself this time,” Jun complains. “That’s all wiring.”
“I’ll do it right,” Nino asserts. “We’ll put them outside the house. Can get motion detector lights. I’m good at this.” He’s still scratching his arm, too hard, leaving streaks from his nails. “I’m good at this.”
Why all this trouble when they should just leave? Now that this guy has Nino’s name, Sho thinks, Nino should get the hell out of Tokyo. He’s got the money for it. But he thinks of the Nino he’s known from the start, the Nino who feels most comfortable locked up in his room. He’s allowed this house to turn into the castle he needs to defend, one of his games come to life.
And it might get him hurt. Or worse.
-
Jun informs them a few days later that he’s waiting tables at a cafe, and when Sho pulls up the place on a map, it’s in Yokohama, further from the house than even Sho’s new job. It’s a warning shot, fired to get a reaction. Jun will spend a huge chunk of his paycheck getting to and from the place, unless of course they move.
Nino doesn’t react at all. He simply lays out receipt after receipt for the things he’s purchased. Sho comes home from work now and Jun’s not back yet. Nino’s in his room, and instead of moaning women or victory music, it’s the sounds of how-to videos. There are tools strewn all across the living room, wires in heaps, a clump of boxes in the hall that apparently have monitors inside so they can see who’s approaching the house 24/7.
Sho starts paying Jun’s share and his own to Nino for all the equipment he’s buying. If Nino knows Sho is doing this, he doesn’t say anything.
“How’s the new job working out? Becky hopes it’s not too boring for someone smart like you.” Aiba texts him. “You should come by for dinner. You should bring your Jun.”
He says maybe next week, or the week after. Jun’s just started a new job, after all, things are busy.
One night Sho comes home, having contented himself with the texts Jun’s sent him during his break and while Sho was on the train. Rowdy high school kids, middle-aged women in too much make-up. How he hopes Sho doesn’t mind if he smells like greasy food. He manages to unlock the door, and as soon as he’s out of the genkan and into the living room, Nino’s bedroom door opens.
He looks smaller, and Sho can tell he’s losing weight. Sho wonders how often he eats. His eyes have always been tired, raccoon-like, purple circles from not sleeping enough. They’re worse now, bloodshot. But he’s smiling so bright that Sho doesn’t want to nag him. “Sho-chan, I saw you coming. Look, come here. Look.”
His cold fingers wrap around Sho’s wrist, and for the first time in weeks Sho is invited into the inner sanctum, Nino’s bedroom. Where the bed ought to be, there’s just boxes, foam peanuts, instruction manuals. Wires. More wires. But the monitors are set up, the ones that have been in the hall. Nino’s unboxed them, stacked them, hooked them all up. There’s six of them right now. The carport, the front entryway, kitchen door, other points around the house. They’re not the most advanced by any means, but Nino’s so proud of himself.
“I saw you coming,” Nino says again, patting his monitors proudly. “We have nothing to worry about.”
And then he’s darting off, past Sho, quick on his feet like a fox. There are new receipts on the table, and Sho doesn’t even ask what he’s bought this time. “Jun and I can pay you in the morning, how’s that? I’ll tell him what it’s for.”
Nino grins at him, drowning in his too-big sweatshirt. During a break at work that day, Sho had checked a news site. The chain of net cafes shuttered its doors three weeks ago. Nino’s been out of work for three weeks and hasn’t said a word about it to him or Jun.
“Of course, of course,” Nino says, wrapping a thin arm around Sho’s back. “I know you’re good for it. You’ve been pretty good lately.”
Alarm bells sound in Sho’s head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you haven’t been spending much,” Nino says. He fishes around in the front pocket of his sweatshirt, looking like an emaciated kangaroo. He unfolds a sheet of paper that’s almost falling apart. Across the top of the paper are three names, split into columns. Ninomiya. Matsumoto. Sakurai. And then beneath, the numbers.
“See, Sho-chan, see here,” Nino says, his finger skimming down the Sakurai column. Sho sees each deduction, each new update. It’s down to the very last yen. And it’s accurate. “See, you’ve been good, but Jun-kun got some more of that cream he thinks is going to make him look 20 again. He’s fooling himself, but we love him just the way he is, tell him that.”
Sho sees how much quicker the Matsumoto total is going down. Even with Sho paying Jun’s share of the housing expenses, Jun’s not shy about spending. He’s already down below 15 million of his 21 million yen in a matter of weeks. He’s told Sho he’s “put some” in the bank for safe keeping, but that’s a lot more than some.
“Nino, are you counting our money?” Sho asks, even though he already knows the answer. Sho hasn’t done so much as glance at the north or south corners of the attic. He’s only taken what he’s needed from under the blanket in the east.
“I’m not taking it,” Nino says, face completely honest and open. “I just didn’t know if you were keeping track, so I thought it would help you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s…it’s okay,” Sho says, even though it’s not.
“I’ll stop,” he insists, tearing the piece of paper up right in front of Sho. The pieces fall like snow to the living room floor while other bits stick against Nino’s sweatshirt. “I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
“Your monitors,” Sho says, his stomach in knots. “You did a good job.”
Nino smiles again. “I think so too. Let that Ohno come back. He won’t come in. I’ll see him coming.”
He vanishes back into his room a short time later, and when Jun comes in the door, he finds Sho crouched down on the floor picking up the bits of paper Nino had torn up.
“Fourteen million, eight hundred and six thousand,” Sho says, getting to his feet. “Give or take.”
Jun’s confused. “Hello to you too.”
“It’s how much money you have left upstairs,” Sho replies quietly. He steps closer, putting a hand on Jun’s shoulder. “Nino’s counting.”
Jun doesn’t even know what to say, crossing his arms and staring blankly for several scary moments. There’s something wrong with Nino, Sho knows it and Jun has to know it, but what can they do? What the hell can they do?
He waits until they’re in Jun’s room, teeth brushed and getting ready for bed. Sho’s in here half the time now, if only because work has cut back on the hours they have together. He tells Jun all about the monitors, about the new receipts on the table.
“I’ve jotted down some places. I was looking last night,” Jun says once they’ve got the lights out, on their backs staring at the ceiling. “I don’t know what you want. Two bedrooms, one bedroom…don’t feel like you have to say yes to one bedroom so soon, I’m not…”
“Did you not hear a thing I just told you? He’s not eating. He’s not sleeping…”
“And he’s counting our money. He’s going up there, and he’s putting his paws all over it, and how do you even know he’s telling the truth? How do you know he isn’t pilfering from us? A few hundred here, a few thousand there.”
“Jun…”
“He was bullied. In high school,” Jun says quietly. “So was I, and I’m sure you can guess why. But Nino, he was smarter than all of them, and they didn’t like it. They beat the shit out of him, all the time, until he stopped coming. They all seemed to forget about it when they sent out the invites to the reunion. I found him outside, smoking. Neither of us actually went inside. I remembered him, the kid they tortured. And he remembered me for the same thing.”
“He’s not well.”
“I don’t think he has been, for a long time,” Jun admits, and Sho shuts his eyes.
“We can’t leave him.”
“I know that.”
“But you still want to.” Sho turns onto his side, brushing his fingers along Jun’s arm. “You told me that you weren’t the person you wanted to be. Is that still true?”
“I don’t even know anymore.” He lets out a slow, shuddering breath. “Are you?”
Sho doesn’t know either.
Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4