fic for 64907 (2/3)

[nino-mod.livejournal.com]

For: 64907
From: lover_youshould

Part 1


iii.
Aiba must know something is going on when Nino shows up the next day with an apologetic offering of mabo tofu and a copy of Ultraman, but he doesn't ask about it, and Nino doesn't dare bring it up on his own. He needs to figure out what's going on for himself before he runs the risk of saying anything about it that he can't take back.

He's done enough of that recently.

Looking back, he has no idea what he was thinking that night beyond his desire to know more about Jun. Yes, he's managed to regain the upper hand -- now that he knows something Jun likely never intended for him to find out, and now that he's the one directing the path of their relationship -- but rather than feeling victorious, he feels nervous. Whenever he starts to think of their upcoming dinner, his heartbeat picks up like crazy and he can't find a way to calm himself down other than shoving it to the very back of his mind. Even playing the guitar like he usually does when he's stressed isn't working, because this time it just reminds him of the thing he's so worried about. So instead he focuses on work, all the clients he has who aren't Jun, and on Aiba, making sure he's forgiven for his childish outburst the other day.

He needs to be cautious, that much he knows for sure. As much as he hates to admit it, he's become way more invested in Jun than he ever meant to, more than he ever thought he was capable of. He doesn't know what it means, but he knows he can't change it back to what it was. At this point all he can do is stay afloat.

Jun seems to feel similarly wary. He messages a few days later just to confirm that they're still on for dinner, as if he has to make sure it wasn't just a line, that Nino wasn't just bullshitting him in the heat of the moment.

Saturday evening? he asks once Nino has assured him that dinner is still what he wants.

Sounds perfect, Nino replies.

An hour passes, and then: Reservation made for 7:30.

Nino programs it into his calendar, then checks the balance on the bank account -- out of habit, he tells himself -- and sees that, sure enough, Jun has paid him in advance, with extra on top of his usual bonus.

Buy yourself a suit, Jun sends a few minutes later. Let me know if it's not enough.

Despite his nerves, the message makes Nino smile. If Jun wants him to go all out, he's happy to oblige.

~
Jun picks him up at the cafe, alone this time, in a sleek sports car that Nino hears purring before it even rounds the corner. When he opens the passenger-side door, Jun is already grinning at Nino's obviously impressed expression, his eyes glittering as he lowers his movie-star sunglasses. What a show-off.

"Good job on the suit," he says as Nino climbs in. "You look great."

"Thanks," Nino says. The suit he picked out is navy, three-piece -- inspired by Jun -- with a yellow tie, a matching pocket square. He's pretty proud of himself. Jun gave him way more than enough, so he even picked up some nice wingtips, some dress socks more expensive than any piece of clothing he'd ever buy for himself. He also spritzed on some nice cologne, ran just enough gel through his hair to keep his bangs swept off his forehead. Jun wanted him to go all-out, after all, and he must have succeeded because Jun spends a full twenty seconds checking him out, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

"Nice car, by the way," Nino says, just because he knows Jun must be dying to hear it. Birthday gift? he wants to ask, but instead he says, "Rental?"

Jun's grin widens as he shifts into gear, ready to pull out. "Smartass."

For safety reasons, Nino rarely lets clients drive him around, and for a few moments he entertains the idea that he might have refused if Jun had asked beforehand, but he knows it's not true. Inevitably, it feels more like a date than a session, but with Jun that's not really unusual anymore.

Besides, it's an early start to his information-gathering mission. A quick glance into the backseat shows him a briefcase in Jun's usual style -- black leather, silver latches, plain enough to be professional but still stylish -- and in the front there's a toll card reader mounted on the side console, a case filled with CDs strapped to the driver's-side visor, upbeat jazz playing low on the stereo. The ashtray is firmly shut, but there's a little white-grey smudge on the corner, and an air freshener is slid through one of the air-conditioning vents. So Jun's a smoker.

It's a good start. But Nino knows he'll want more.

"I have an idea," he says.

Jun turns his face in Nino's direction, his eyes still on the road. "Hm?"

"I think we should use this opportunity to learn more about each other," Nino continues. "Why not make a game out of it?"

That grin is back on Jun's face. "I'm all ears."

"Ten questions, five for each of us."

"About?"

"Anything."

"And the rules?"

"Questions can be yes/no or open-ended. Anything is on the table. If you -- or I -- don't feel comfortable answering a question thoroughly or with specific details, that's fine, but the answer does have to actually address the question in some way." He knows it's a gamble, that he's opening himself up to Jun just as much as he's asking Jun to open up to him, but he has a feeling the trade will be worth it.

Jun is thinking about it, his fingers tapping quietly on the steering wheel. "All right," he finally says. "Do we get to pass?"

"Sure, but then the other person gets to ask a new question instead."

After another moment of thought, Jun says, "I'm game. Now I just have to think of some good questions."

Nino smiles as he sits back, settling in for the drive. He can't wait to hear what Jun comes up with.

~
The restaurant isn't one Nino recognizes, but it's clearly expensive as hell, the kind of place that boasts authentic, home-style cuisine but has valet parking and sommeliers, where one entree costs more than the entire bill at the places Nino takes Aiba to. It is also clearly Italian, with a huge flag draped over the host's kiosk and a sign on the wall that reads Benvenuti!

"Reservation for two," Jun tells the hostess. "Under 'Kazu.'"

Nino smirks. Cute.

They're taken to a square table with a red-and-white checkered tablecloth, set rather idyllically in front of a window overlooking a side garden, where a string of lights illuminates tomato vines growing along the back fence. They're quickly descended upon with choices for wine, which Jun picks, and appetizers, which he leaves up to Nino. When the order has been placed and they're both looking through their menus, Jun says, "So, are you going to ask your first question?"

"You start," Nino says. He wants to hear what Jun will open with.

Over the edge of the menu, he can see the way Jun's lips are pursed, and he realizes he's never seen Jun's thinking face before now. It's pretty cute. "Okay, I've got one," he announces. "What's the strangest thing someone's ever asked you to do?"

Nino can't help but laugh. "Going straight for the good stuff, I see."

"I'm curious!"

"Well, that is what this is for! All right, let me think..."

In general, Nino tries not to place any value judgments on the kinds of things his clients ask of him. He has his closet back home, after all, so he doesn't really have a leg to stand on when it comes to sexual deviancy. Still, there will always be requests that are particularly memorable if nothing else.

There was the time a client asked to put a vibrating plug in him and then wanted to hold his hand while they walked around in public; the time a client asked Nino to tie him to a chair and then fuck his wife in front of him while they both taunted him about it; the time a client wanted him to dress in a maid uniform, complete with pantyhose and a wig styled in curly pigtails, and then jerked off as Nino scrubbed his floor... He cycles through the whole list, but he finally decides on:

"There was this guy I saw for a long time, months and months, and he would always ask for totally standard stuff, always in love hotels. Then one day he asked if we could meet at his apartment, and I trusted him by that point, so I agreed, and when I got there he pulled out all these things -- a headband with dog ears, a collar with a tag that said 'Koro,' a plug with a little fluffy tail on the end, a bone-shaped chew toy... He wanted me to crawl around on all fours and then piss on his carpet so he could punish me. And, of course, fuck me afterwards. With the chew toy in my mouth."

By the end of the story, Jun's eyebrows have shot halfway up his forehead. "Did you do it?"

"Of course," Nino scoffs. "But I made him pay triple."

"Ruthless!"

"Hey, that's just smart business practice. I told him from the get-go that pet stuff is extra. He knew what he was getting into."

Jun snorts and goes back to looking over his menu. When Nino does the same, he glances up and asks, "Aren't you going to ask yours?"

In response, Nino makes a show of looking as if he's pondering it deeply, but he's known what his first question would be since he first proposed this little game. He finally gives a little "Ah," as if the perfect question has just occurred to him, and asks, "Why did you choose this restaurant?"

"That's your question?"

"We agreed anything is fair game, didn't we?"

Jun rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. He looks around, taking in the decor, perhaps thinking of how to articulate his answer. "I like Italian," he starts. "I read nothing but excellent reviews about this place..." He trails off, but it sounds more like a pause than an end, as if he's considering whether or not to say the next part. "And," he says, slowly, "the pictures made it look a bit... romantic."

Nino grins, not bothering to hold back. So, this place is new to Jun. Was he worried someone might have recognized him if they'd gone somewhere familiar? He could have easily explained it away as work-related -- or maybe he's afraid someone he knows might recognize Nino. And he read about it somewhere instead of asking around, so after tonight no one will have any reason to suspect he's been here. He's careful, thorough; Nino admires that in a person.

And he does think it's a date, or at least wants it to feel like one. Good to know.

"All right," Jun says, "my turn. What do you do with all the gifts you get?"

Nino doesn't pause to think this time. "I keep them," he says, and it's an acceptable sliver of the truth. Jun doesn't need to know about the shrine-like nature of his collection or, for instance, that Nino will swipe a business card from this place on their way out, to be added to the binder he has at home.

Jun looks a bit skeptical. "All of them?"

"Every single one."

"What, do you have a storage unit somewhere?"

Nino laughs, shaking his head. "No, they all fit in my closet at home. You're right though, maybe I'll open a museum one day."

"Do you use them?" Jun asks, looking honestly curious rather than appalled, which is a surprising relief.

"Sometimes." That's a bit of a stretch, but Jun definitely doesn't need to know the minutiae of Nino's reverent visits to the closet.

Thankfully, the wine and appetizers show up before Jun has a chance to press for more details, and they spend the next few minutes being serious about the menu before finally ordering. Nino gets chicken parmesan that comes with steamed vegetables drenched in lemon and butter, and Jun orders some fancy-sounding pasta dish with a salad on the side. Nino is pleased to learn that although Jun is picky with his order, requesting that the pasta be cooked just so or that such and such not be included with the salad, he's appreciative of and courteous to the waitstaff -- always a good sign.

They sip their wine, pick at the cheeses and cured meats spread between them, and Jun finally says, "It's your turn."

Nino chews on a piece of prosciutto as he thinks. He's not sure Jun's ready to answer this one, but after the question Jun just sent his way, Nino's feeling ready to ask it. "What do you do for a living?"

"Pass," Jun says immediately.

Damn. That's a bit of an answer in itself, though, isn't it? He decides to throw Jun a softball. "Okay, then what about... are you a hitman?"

That makes Jun laugh, so sincere and surprised that he almost spills his wine. "No," he answers, still chuckling, "not even close. Not yakuza, either -- that's a freebie for you."

"Ah, that was my first guess, but I've seen you naked plenty of times. Not a single tattoo."

Jun is grinning as he leans back in his chair, taking another sip from his glass. "My turn again."

Nino says, before he has a chance to ask, "Are all of your questions going to be work-related?"

Jun regards him with a cool glare, the smile from a few seconds ago just barely visible now around the corners of his mouth. He pops an olive in his mouth as he considers, before finally asking, "What do you do for fun? I mean, other than seducing wealthy men, of course."

"See, still bringing it back to work." It's a playful jab, but it's also a diversion. Weeks ago, Nino was caught in this very predicament and he chose to run, but tonight running isn't an option, and so far he's learned only bits and pieces about the tiniest details of Jun's life. He needs to start upping the ante, needs to offer something real so Jun might return the favor. He takes a breath, takes a sip of wine, and throws caution to the wind. "Goof off, mostly," he says. "Read. Play guitar." That makes Jun smile again. "Play video games." At that, Jun's smile widens, the softness of it now reflected in his eyes. It's not teasing, the way it has been for most of their conversation, but something sweeter, like he's genuinely charmed. Nino lets him have that moment, and then he says, "Okay, my turn. What do you do for fun? Other than spend your hard-earned money on gorgeous men, of course."

There it is -- that playful tease back in Jun's eyes. "Gorgeous, huh?"

"So I've been told."

Jun's smile stays for a moment longer, and then it fades as he sighs, leaning back in his chair. He starts looking around the restaurant, down into his wine, then back into the distance... Is he intentionally avoiding Nino's gaze, or is he distracted -- thinking?

"Not a lot of fun these days," he finally says. "Work's been pretty hectic."

"Your mysterious, definitely-not-yakuza work."

At that Jun snorts, his eyes sliding back to Nino with a gleam of laughter in them. "That might make life more exciting, honestly. Mostly it's paperwork, conference calls, and that's when I'm not in the office. Other than that..." He lets his gaze drop back down to the table, where he's running his fingertips along the base of the wine glass, over and over. "Look for new restaurants to try. Spend my lunch break driving around the city. Watch mindless TV until I fall asleep." He shrugs, glancing back up to Nino. "Not very interesting."

Nino disagrees. Jun must not realize it -- would he have said it otherwise? -- but he's just told Nino much more than the simple actions his words conveyed.

Maybe Jun does start to realize it, because in the next moment he's leaning forward, elbows on the table. "Next question," he says. "Do you have any pets?"

That startles a laugh out of Nino. "You're gonna ask me that after the story I told you earlier?"

"Hey, it's a good thing to know about someone! I respect people who have good relationships with their pets. I can't even keep a goldfish alive. Plants are a different story though -- I have a very respectable bonsai at home."

"Well then regretfully, no, no pets." He adds, "Just my dumb best friend," and makes sure the teasing in his voice is clear. Jun gets it, smiling with his mouth and his eyes.

Their food arrives shortly after, so they put the game on pause for now. They eat mostly in silence but for comments on the food; Jun wants to sample Nino's but offers some of his in return, and he has a lot of opinions about the sauce on his plate, the texture of the pasta, the crispy edges of Nino's grilled veggies. Everything is absolutely delicious, and Nino makes a mental note to bring Aiba back here one day. Maybe on a special occasion though.

~
After Jun pays, they head out on foot in search of a gelato place that's supposedly to die for -- Jun's words. They find it a few blocks away, easy to miss where it sits between an ice cream shop and a bakery, all across the street from a little park with colorful flower beds and a single, winding path. They order their desserts to go, and although they must look ridiculous -- two grown men in expensive suits eating gelato out of paper cups as they wander through the park -- it's quiet, beautiful, with no one else around to overhear their conversation.

"It's nice out here," Jun says. "I've never been in this area before, but I'll have to come back."

"Mm." Nino takes another spoonful of his gelato, then reaches over to sample Jun's. Jun laughs but lets him, gets his own spoonful of Nino's. They keep walking.

It's Jun who finally unpauses the game. "I believe it was your turn to ask a question."

They've reached a cluster of trees with a wooden bench set just off the path, under the shade. The trees look like they must blossom spectacularly in the spring, but for now their green-covered branches provide cover from the moonlight; when Nino and Jun sit on the bench, it's as if they've stepped into some secret room, a private bubble separate from the rest of the world moving busily just outside the park. It feels safe, maybe even appropriate, to ask the question Nino's been saving up.

"Why do you come to me?"

Jun takes a while to answer, and Nino is patient, letting him sort it all out because he knows that if Jun gives him any answer at all, it will be worth the wait.

"It started as just something to do," he finally says. "Sho-kun and I used to..." He waves his hand around like he's unsure of exactly how to phrase it, but Nino gets the picture. "So we understood each other. He knew what it was like to have to sneak around. That's why he gave me your number -- it was his idea originally. I spent a long time debating, but I finally decided to try it, and at first it was just..." He trails off, mouth pursed like he's not sure what to say next. He's not looking at Nino at all, just gazing out at the city street, watching the people pass by, their faces illuminated by the bright storefronts. "Just a stress reliever," he continues. "I guess it still is, but it's not just that anymore. Seeing you makes me happy. Gives me something to look forward to every week." He glances over at Nino, smiling bashfully. "Stupid, I know."

"It's not stupid," Nino says, and for perhaps the first time tonight, he's being entirely truthful. There's nothing left out, nothing else that could be said. He doesn't think it's stupid at all. What must Jun think of him, he wonders, to worry about that even now? He wishes he could do or say something to put Jun at ease, would kiss him if they were somewhere truly private, but even here in their dark little bubble, just a touch would be too risky.

But Jun doesn't linger on it. He flashes a nervous smile and says, "My turn. Last question for the night."

Nino leans back against the bench, smiling in return. "Go for it."

"What do you get out of this?"

That takes the bravado right out of him. He takes a breath, lets it out slowly. What is there to say? How much can he reveal here, and how? In that moment, his heart is aching for Jun, and he doesn't want to lie to him, but he doesn't know if the truth would be worse. He's not even sure himself what the truth is anymore. For years it's been crystal-clear -- money, sex, an easy living -- but how can he say that now without sounding callous? How can he explain that somehow, somewhere along the way, what he gets out of their time together has become something more than that?

How can he put any of that into words for Jun when he can't even reason it out for himself?

"Pass."

It comes out of his mouth before he even means to say it, and he regrets it instantly, intensified by the stricken look on Jun's face.

Jun hides it quickly, looking away from Nino, saying nothing as his fingers tap out a nervous rhythm against his thigh. In the silence Nino starts to panic, feeling a bit like his necktie is wound too tightly around his throat. He wants to run, wants to shove all of this away and out of sight, but he knows he can't, knows that would make his shitty mistake ten times worse.

Jun clears his throat. "Okay. New question. If you weren't doing this... what would you do instead?"

He answers, "Be a musician, or a bored office worker with ambitious dreams of being a musician," but it sounds wooden even to his ears. It means nothing at all. His heart is pounding so wildly that he thinks Jun might be able to see it.

Jun nods, gives no other response. He's trying to hide the way he's hurting, but after all this time, Nino knows where to look: the barely-there crease between his eyebrows, the way the corners of his mouth turn down even when he smiles. He glances back at Nino and says, "Are you going to ask your last question?"

Nino looks up, into the trees. He hadn't planned on what his final question would be, since he wanted to see where the night would take them, but what can he ask now? He looks back to Jun, and he makes his decision right there. "Remind me again later." He stands, offering his hand.

Jun just stares at him, unmoving. "Ready to call it a night?" In the darkness of their little world, his eyes look huge, terrified.

"Not yet," Nino says. "Let's go somewhere private." He needs to make this right -- needs to show Jun everything he can't say in words. "Please."

Jun takes his hand.

~
The hotel Jun booked is one they've been to before, but the room is above and beyond their previous experience. There's a main area with a minibar, a huge overstuffed couch, an enormous flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, and an adjoining bedroom with a four-poster as big as any Nino's ever seen before. He can't even guess what Jun had planned, but now Jun isn't saying a word as he takes off his shoes, his jacket, loosens his tie. He leaves his things on the table in the main room, then walks into the sleeping area to sit on the edge of the bed. He looks lost, like he doesn't know where to go from here.

Nino moves to him, makes room for himself to stand between Jun's knees. He runs his hands up Jun's neck and tilts his face up for a kiss that Jun returns. He kisses Jun's mouth, the beauty mark above his lip, his forehead. "Thank you for dinner," he says.

Jun leans into him, moving his hands from the bed to Nino's thighs, up to his waist. "Did you enjoy it?"

"I loved all of it."

He kisses Jun again, and tries to channel into it everything that he's feeling, but he can tell that Jun is holding back. He pulls away, brushing his thumbs over the curve of Jun's jaw. "I'm sorry I couldn't answer your question," he says. Jun's expression flickers -- fearful and hopeful all at once. "There are some things I can't be open about. I need you to understand that. But I also need you to believe me now." He drops another kiss on Jun's mouth, one that Jun returns softly, then pulls back just enough to whisper against Jun's lips, "I enjoy our time together. I enjoy being with you. And I'm glad I can make you happy." Another kiss. "You do the same for me."

When he pulls away, Jun is staring up at him. There's something in his eyes that, for once, Nino can't decipher. "Kazu..."

He smooths his hands down Jun's shoulders, coming to rest over his biceps, his thumbs running up and down over the soft fabric. "My final question. Will you stay the night?"

Jun grips him tighter, pulls him into a kiss. It's all the answer Nino needs.



iv.
When Nino wakes up the next morning, Jun is spooned up against him, an arm around his waist, their legs all tangled together beneath the sheets. He's warm from Jun's body pressed against his and from the sunlight creeping in through the curtains they accidentally left open, slicing through the blinds to paint the bed in golden stripes.

It's serene, wonderful... but Nino really has to pee. He wriggles out as gently as he can from under Jun's arm so he can sneak off to the bathroom, and he washes his face and swishes some mouthwash around as long as he's in there. When he comes back out, Jun is lying on his stomach, yawning under his hand as he swipes through messages on his phone.

Nino worms back under the covers, and when he's all settled, he finds Jun watching him. He's got his chin propped on his hand and a big, dumb smile on his face, like watching Nino shuffle around bleary-eyed is a good way to spend anyone's time.

"Good morning," Nino croaks.

Jun laughs as he rolls over to grab something off the nightstand. He drops it onto Nino's blanket-covered chest -- a menu for room service -- and throws the blankets aside, gets his feet on the floor. "I'm starving," he announces on his way to the bathroom. "Pick for me, will you?"

They never left the bed last night, so Nino isn't surprised to hear the shower start up once the door is closed. He uses the phone on the desk to call room service and orders a few random things off the menu, making sure to ask for coffee, then rolls onto his stomach and falls back to sleep.

He wakes up, presumably not very much later, to the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing again. He doesn't open his eyes, but he hears Jun's soft footsteps padding across the floor, feels the mattress shift as Jun climbs onto the bed. There's nothing for a long moment after that, and then Jun's hand is on him, running up and down his back, over the blankets. He makes a pleased noise as he turns his head to see Jun, sitting there in nothing but a bathrobe. Usually he blow-dries and styles his hair before he leaves, but now it's still damp, falling cutely over his forehead.

Jun catches his eye and smiles, his hand drifting lower. He whispers, "Can I?"

Nino stretches lazily under his touch. "Be my guest."

He feels Jun's hand trail up, then slide slowly underneath the blanket until they're skin-on-skin, Jun's fingertips warm and soft where they stroke over the small of Nino's back. Jun spends a few moments appreciating the shallow dip of Nino's spine, and then he's moving lower, his hand coming to rest over the curve of Nino's ass. He shifts so that he's lying alongside Nino and uses his other hand to brush the hair off the back of Nino's neck, leaning down so he can lay his mouth over it at the same time that one of his fingers slips down the cleft of Nino's ass, pressing right up against him.

When he turns to grab the lube off the nightstand where they left it, Nino folds his arms beneath the pillow his head is resting on, settling in for the long haul. Jun comes back with slick fingers and works one into him, makes him shiver, then works in another, then another, until Nino can't stop himself from rutting against the bed, desperate to feel any friction whatsoever against his dick. He feels Jun lean over him again, and then Jun's teeth are laying into the skin at the back of his neck, just hard enough to draw a moan out of him.

Jun withdraws quickly, sitting up on his knees so he can shimmy out of his robe and give Nino's ass a gentle smack. Nino lifts up just enough for Jun to tuck a pillow under his hips, and then Jun is reaching again for the nightstand, swiping a condom this time. Jun fucks into him and it's outrageously good -- nice, slow, picture-perfect for a Sunday morning.

Nino still has his arms under his head, but he's just starting to think about reaching down to touch himself when suddenly they hear a knock.

He perks his head up from the pillow, but Jun keeps going, pressing a hand gently between his shoulder blades. "Shhh."

The knocking continues. It's coming from the front door, out in the main room. They can just barely hear a voice call from the other side, "Room service!"

Nino tries to keep quiet, but Jun is hitting him in exactly the right spot and it's impossible to hold back a whimper.

In the main room, the front door creaks open and a woman's voice calls out, "Matsumoto-san?"

Jun quickly reaches around to clamp a hand over Nino's mouth, still fucking him slowly, sliding even deeper somehow. Nino lets out a surprised squeak, but it's lost under the sound of Jun's voice as he yells over his shoulder, "I'm changing, leave it by the desk please!"

They hear the door close as she enters the room, the gentle clinking of silverware and porcelain as she arranges the food. Jun is still going, insistent but silent, putting that superhuman focus of his to good use, and it's taking every ounce of willpower for Nino to keep from screaming. Jun's hand over his mouth tightens by just a fraction, but it's enough to send a jolt of excitement down his spine. He can feel himself leaking precome where he's trying so hard not to hump the pillow under his hips.

Finally, they hear her voice: "Sorry for the intrusion! Please enjoy your breakfast!" Then the door opens, closes.

They stay quiet a few seconds longer, just to make sure.

She's gone.

In an instant Jun is up, dragging Nino's hips with both hands so he can speed up, and now that they're alone again, Nino is pushing back thrust for thrust. He gets a hand around his cock and starts working himself to the rhythm of Jun's hips, letting every filthy noise he's capable of spill out of his mouth. With his other hand he clutches the pillow under his head and holds on for dear life as he finally comes, Jun fucking him through it until he's completely boneless, still moaning into the pillow as Jun keeps going.

Jun finishes just a few seconds later. He stays there with his hands on Nino's hips, just catching his breath, and then pulls out, ties off the condom, collapses alongside Nino. Nino slumps against the mattress and doesn't even care that he's lying right on the wet spot. He's exhausted in the best possible way.

Jun looks over at him, breathless and beaming. "Hungry?"

~
Nino showers quickly while Jun gets dressed, and then they sit together in the main room, eating their breakfast, sipping their coffee. Nino relaxes mindlessly as Jun taps out messages on his phone, and it feels comfortable. Easy.

Jun's phone starts beeping shrilly right as he's finishing up his miso soup. "Shit," he says under his breath. He downs the rest of the broth in one gulp and stands, telling Nino, "Gotta go. I totally forgot I have a business call coming in from Taiwan in an hour." He grabs his jacket off the back of the chair, the only thing he's not already wearing.

Nino reaches for his wrist as he walks past, tugging him back. Jun goes along with it when Nino uses his tie to pull him down, until they're inches apart. "Thank you for everything," Nino says.

He can feel Jun smiling as they kiss.

Jun gives him one last peck on the corner of his mouth, then straightens up, smooths down his tie, and leaves with his usual "Enjoy the room."

Alone now, Nino gets up to make another cup of coffee from the pot on the desk. He feels sleepy in a good, fucked-out way, but there's also something that he can't get out of his head.

This whole time, all the months they've been seeing each other, Nino has always managed to avoid finding out Jun's family name. He always looked away when Jun pulled out his bank card, always waited by the elevators when Jun checked in at the hotels. It's just standard practice, something he does no matter who the client is; he has enough secrets of his own to keep, and although he may hoard other kinds of information, carrying around a mental list of wealthy businessmen he's slept with isn't a secret he particularly wants to deal with. As long as they can pay, he's happy.

But now that he does know, the curiosity is eating away at him. It's not as if Matsumoto is an uncommon name, and for all he knows it might be a lie, like the name on the bank account. But everything he's pieced together fits with the idea that's now swirling around his mind.

He sits there at the table with his coffee in one hand, cell phone in the other for a full five minutes, debating back and forth. He'll turn the screen on, pull up Google, then think better of it and turn it back off. He does this at least three times before he loses track. But now all the caffeine is making him feel jittery, the restlessness from dealing with the past twenty-four hours is telling him to do it, just do it, and finally, he can't resist anymore.

He turns the screen back on, types the characters in quickly before he can convince himself to stop: Matsumoto Jun. His thumb hovers over the search button, and then he types in August 30 just to solidify it.

The first thing that pops up is an article from a business magazine, published last winter, some fluff piece titled "Up-and-Coming Entrepreneurs Who Are Taking the Business World by Storm." Nino clicks it and waits impatiently for the page to load. It's just a collection of profiles, with a few paragraphs each for a list of the "ten hottest young businesspeople in Japan." Fucking A. He has to scroll down a bit before he sees it -- a picture of Jun, he'd know that face anywhere -- and after that, all he needs to do is read the first line: Matsumoto Jun, heir to Matsumoto Enterprises...

Dammit, Nino thinks. He was right on the mark.

He doesn't know that much about Matsumoto Enterprises, just that they're one of those big-name companies with fingers in so many pies that it's difficult for the average person to know what it is they actually do, just that they have massive influence and wealth. He keeps reading, unable to stop now that he's stumbled onto this. He learns that the company started small, just a lowly chicken farm out in the boonies way back when, until Jun's great-grandfather decided to make a name for himself as the economy flourished after the war. They got their first big break with a family restaurant and have spent the generations since then amassing their fortune, leapfrogging from food into all sorts of other industries, including a line of ridiculously luxurious hotels that they're currently trying to expand into a multinational chain. Apparently that's where Jun comes in.

Nino immediately brings up another search to find out which hotels they already own, which ones they're dealing with. He's not surprised to see that Jun's only ever taken him to one of them, the night they met for his birthday. He said the driver thought it was a work meeting -- was that part of the ruse?

Nino drops his phone onto the table and slumps in his chair, letting everything sink in. It's no wonder Jun is so secretive about what he does, no wonder he's always so careful. He must be getting marriage proposals flung at him left and right, and if he were ever caught with a rent boy like Nino...

He finds himself laughing, possibly a bit hysterically, as another thought flits through his mind. He grabs his phone and swipes back to that first article, just to double-check: Born August 30, 1983... God, he's even younger than Nino thought -- younger than Nino.

This changes nothing, but it feels as if everything Nino thought he knew has been turned on its head. And the more he thinks about it, the worse he starts to feel for digging all of it up in the first place. Jun clearly wasn't ready for him to know -- might never have been ready -- and now it's another secret he's unlocked, another secret he has to keep.

Nino has no idea what he's going to do.

He needs Aiba.

~
It takes a while to explain, mostly because Aiba keeps interrupting to say things like "I can't believe you didn't tell me this earlier!" and "The sex was great though, right?", but eventually Nino tells him everything: how Jun came back to him, how Nino accidentally found out it was his birthday, the dinner, the questions, Nino's stupid screw-up when Jun asked what he gets out of it. He ends with the revelation that Jun works for a hugely important company, "And no, Aiba-chan, don't even ask which one because I'm not going to tell you."

Aiba was definitely about to ask, but now he snaps his mouth shut and reaches for another piece of tonkatsu. There's food laid out all over the low table in Nino's living room, plus more than a few empty beer cans.

Nino pushes a piece of gyoza around on his plate, unable to bring himself to eat it. "I just... I feel like shit about the whole thing. He was happy that morning, but the night before... He's so lonely, Aiba-chan, and I'm over here fucking with his emotions..." He drops his chopsticks onto his plate, throwing his hands up with a frustrated sigh. "I feel like I'm going crazy."

"Slow down," Aiba says, still chewing on a piece of pork. "Let's take it one step at a time. Why do you feel bad?"

"Because, I -- I found out all these things about him, things he obviously didn't want me to know, and then when he asked me something big, I couldn't even answer it!"

"Why not?"

"Because!" Nino didn't mean to raise his voice, but once he realizes he did it, he takes in a breath to steady himself and starts over. "Because of course I can't. 'I do it for money and sex,' are you kidding? He'd go running."

"But he has to know that's at least part of it, right? I mean, it's kind of a given. Do you not want to say it because you feel sorry for him?"

"No!" Of this Nino is absolutely certain. He does ache for Jun, but it's not pity. He's felt sorry for clients before and this isn't that.

"Then why not just tell him?" Aiba asks, sounding both genuinely confused and sincerely concerned. "Why are you so afraid of just saying it?"

Nino scrubs his hands over his face, debating how to answer. Finally he groans, leaving his eyes covered by his hands, unable to bear the thought of looking Aiba in the face as he forces himself to be completely honest for once in his goddamn life. "I can't say it because I don't want to hurt him, and I don't know if it's even the whole truth anymore, and I don't know how to explain the rest of it without making myself vulnerable. I just don't know."

A long moment of silence stretches between them, during which Nino still doesn't uncover his face. Then, quietly, Aiba says, "I'm about to ask you something you're not gonna like."

"Do it," he sighs.

"Nino," Aiba begins, sounding very grave. "Do you love him?"

Nino slaps his hands down onto the table to glare at Aiba. "What, no! Stop watching those dumb movies, they're rotting your brain!"

"Are you sure? Because it sounds like you do."

Nino throws the nearest cushion at Aiba's head. "This is why I don't come to you for advice!"

~
Aiba tries, but the most important thing Nino figures out from talking to him is that his problem can't be solved by just throwing it at someone else. There's no answer hidden in a riddle they simply have to solve, no magical way to fix everything he's done wrong. The problem, he realizes, is that he has no clue what's going on inside his own head.

Honestly, he doesn't know if he loves Jun. He doesn't even really know what love feels like to him, not the way Aiba talks about it. Nino loves his mom, and he loves Aiba-chan -- he knows what that feels like -- but he's never wanted anyone to sweep him off his feet or get down on one knee to profess their devotion to him. To Nino, devotion is a matter of finance. To Nino, love looks like the inside of that walk-in closet, the shelves lined with confessions and valentines. His interest has always been in what pleasure could be given, what service provided, but that's not how he feels about Jun, not anymore. He feels drawn to Jun like he's never felt drawn to anyone else in his life. He wants to be with Jun, wants to lie with him, wants to make him smile, wants him to be happy even when Nino's not around.

It's not like he wants to marry Jun or anything. He doesn't even want to spend all his time with him.

But he does want to spend time with him, in a way that has nothing to do with payment. That's about as far as he can think before the rest stops making sense.

~
At the end of the night, when all the leftovers have been packed up for Aiba to take home to Ohno, when Nino has showered and dragged himself into bed, he tries once more to puzzle it out. The silence weighs on him, and he feels like he's going to tear his hair out, so he reaches for the guitar, something to keep his hands busy and drown out the noise in his head.

That's when it finally dawns on him. Not the answer to the riddle, but a piece of it -- something that's been literally within arm's reach this whole time.

The guitar never made it to the closet.

The day after Jun gave it to him, he went out and bought a stand for it, and it's been living beside his bed ever since, always there when he needs to wind down at the end of the day. It should have gone in the closet. Every material thing he's ever been gifted from a client has gone into the closet. The things don't matter, just the idea behind them -- that's what he's been telling himself this whole time, isn't it?

But there it is.

He immediately puts it back on the stand, feeling as if he's been burned by it. More than anything else, more than fucking up his answer to Jun's question, more than stumbling over Jun's biggest secret, more than the muddled-up ideas in his head, this is the thing that throws Nino completely for a loop.

He sits there dumbfounded for what feels like hours. He finally manages to stand up and turn the light off, but when he gets back into bed, all he can do is lie awake, unable to put his mind to rest. His thoughts keep circling back to the guitar -- to Jun's frown -- to that stupid fluff article -- back to the guitar.

He's been insisting to himself for months that if he could just learn more, could just think one step ahead, then he could stay on top, could maintain the upper hand. Now he sees, irrefutably, that he has always been blind to the effect Jun has on him -- that his feelings are completely beyond his grasp.

He has no idea what it means.

But it has to mean something.

~
Jun messages him that week to set up their next appointment as usual. Nino tries to go into it as if nothing has changed, but the truth is that something about that day has changed both of them. He feels it in himself, in the way he can no longer avoid the weight of his own confused emotions, and he feels it in Jun too. They continue to meet regularly, but now there are gaps between their sessions, a week or two here and there where Jun doesn't contact him. When Nino does see him, he looks tired, smaller somehow. He's slower to smile, quicker to leave at the end of the night.

At first Nino thinks it must be work eating at him, but he realizes quickly that Jun is different even when they're together. He's more reserved, more withdrawn, as if he's protecting himself. He doesn't kiss Nino anymore and is the first to pull away when Nino initiates; he doesn't lie with Nino afterwards, always in a rush to shower and leave. Nino feels like he's with the Jun he first met, like they've stepped back into those cheap love hotels, before they ever allowed themselves to get so caught up in each other.

He tries to bridge the gap, tries to put everything he has into showing Jun that he meant every word he said that night. I enjoy being with you. I'm glad I can make you happy. You do the same for me. But the more he reaches out, the more Jun pulls away. The sessions slow to once every few weeks; their interactions start to feel impersonal, an empty caricature of what they used to share.

Nino feels helpless, lost at sea. He wishes he could go back in time and fix everything he's done wrong. Where would he even start? Would he answer Jun's question differently that night? Would he be honest from the beginning?

Would he go through with that first session, if he knew it would lead them to this?

For Jun's sake, maybe not.

~
Jun messages him one afternoon asking to reschedule their session for that day. Nino has him in his calendar for 7pm, but Jun wants to know if they can meet earlier, as soon as possible, and offers to pick him up in his car. Nino is hesitant at first -- this all seems a little odd for Jun, especially recently -- but it's been two and a half weeks since the last time they saw each other, and he doesn't want to run the risk of today's session being canceled.

Sounds good, he sends.

When Jun shows up at the cafe, Nino's first impression is that he seems a little stressed. His mouth is pinched in a frown, his eyebrows drawn low over his sunglasses. But when Nino gets in the car, it all disappears. He smiles, and something about it looks more genuine than it has in a long time.

"Hey," he says, sitting back to watch as Nino buckles in.

Nino shoots a questioning glance in Jun's direction, feeling a little self-conscious, but Jun just smiles wider. He stops watching Nino so he can turn on the radio, fussing with the dial until he finds something harmlessly upbeat, just background music for him to tap his fingers to.

Nino can't help but stare at those tapping fingers, not quite able to believe them. The turnaround happened so quickly. Is Jun faking it for his sake?

"You're in a good mood," he says, trying to keep his tone light.

But Jun just brushes it off and flashes another smile before he turns to check the mirrors, getting ready to pull out into the street. "Just happy to see you." He turns the music up and starts driving.

At the hotel, Jun kisses him for what feels like the first time in ages. They move to the bed still in most of their clothes, and once they're there, they can't seem to pull away from each other long enough to do anything but make out on top of the sheets. There's no rush, no insistent push to finish so they can return to their other lives. It can't possibly be hours that they lie there, just kissing each other and letting the uneasiness melt away, but that's what it feels like to Nino.

The sun is just starting to set outside, and it makes the room feel warm and glowing, and a little magical, like time has slowed down just for them. He could happily float in this moment forever, unhurried and unconcerned, surrounded finally by all the things he's been missing: Jun's mouth on his, Jun's skin on his, Jun's scent all around him.

He's on his back, with Jun lying half on top of him. Jun pulls out of a long, sweet kiss and lowers his head, pressing his face into the crook of Nino's neck. Their hands are joined on the pillows above Nino's head -- Nino's left, Jun's right -- and Nino laces their fingers together, squeezes Jun's hand.

Jun leans up on his elbow to look Nino in the eyes. "I've been thinking," he says. His voice is quiet, his lips all red and puffy from kissing.

Nino finds himself smiling and doesn't even try to hold back. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. We should go somewhere for a while."

Nino tilts his head. "Dinner?"

But Jun just laughs. "No, I mean somewhere -- somewhere else. Away from here. Just you and me."

Everything about this moment -- the spellbinding glow of sunlight, Jun's giddy smile, the warmth seeping through him -- it all makes Nino feel loose, happy. He plays along. "Where would we go?"

"Seoul, Hawaii, Rome. Wherever you want."

"And what would we do there?"

"See the sights, eat the food -- explore --" He stops, eyes flashing wide as if something magnificent has just occurred to him. "Have you ever been to the Eiffel Tower?"

Are you kidding me? is what Nino wants to say, but instead he says, "Tell me about it."

Jun's smile widens. "I'll show you instead."

He rolls away to reach for his phone, and for just a moment, Nino closes his eyes and allows himself to imagine it: the two of them in Paris, walking hand-in-hand along the Seine, sharing bites of street food beneath the Arc de Triomphe. But when he opens his eyes, the spell breaks and reality sets back in. He glances over to find Jun lying on his stomach, swiping through his phone -- looking through his calendar.

Nino's heart clenches. "Jun..." He turns onto his side, reaching to still Jun's hands. "Jun. Stop."

Jun looks up at him as if he'd heard nothing. "What?"

"You know what." He doesn't want to say it, but he has to stop this in its tracks. "We can't. You know we can't."

The phone droops in Jun's hands, its screen going black. "Why not?"

"We can't just run off together. We have obligations here, both of us."

"Then what about next month, or the month after -- if we plan in advance --"

"Jun, stop." At Jun's wounded expression, Nino runs a hand through his hair, trying to offer comfort. He says, more gently, "Listen to me. I want more than this too. But it can't be that."

"But why?"

"Just think about it -- what if --" A thousand scenarios flash through his mind, a thousand ways that jumping into something like that could break them irreparably. How can he run away with Jun when he still doesn't even know if he loves him? It would be too much, too risky -- it could be something they might never come back from. "What if something goes wrong?" he asks. "What if it's too much?"

"How could it be too much? This isn't enough!" Jun grasps Nino's hand, squeezing it tight. "I just want... I just want you."

Where it's thumping in his chest, Nino's heart feels as if it's about to break. "You have me now," he whispers, stroking his thumb over Jun's brow. "That has to be enough."

For a long moment, Jun stares at him. He looks like he's searching for something, like the answer to whatever mystery he's trying to solve is somewhere in Nino's eyes. It makes Nino feel pinned in place, unable to look away even if he wanted to. Then Jun blinks, turns his face away. "Of course," he says. "You're right. I'm sorry." Something about his voice...

Nino pulls him back, and there it is: his eyes are shimmering, about to spill over.

"Hey, c'mere."

He moves closer, and Jun lets him set his phone aside, lets Nino kiss him, lets Nino undress him, until their conversation is not forgotten but pushed aside, relegated to a memory buried beneath the pleasure they allow each other to take.

Jun doesn't leave that night. They shower together, eat room-service dinner together, talk about nothing and make each other laugh for the first time in weeks. They fall asleep tangled beneath the blankets, skin on skin, Jun's arms warm as sunlight where they wrap around him. It feels like it's been forever since Nino has slept peacefully, but tonight he doesn't worry about indecision or uncertainty. He's already made up his mind.

In the shadowy stillness of that moment, he wants to come clean. He wants to tell Jun everything -- what he knows, why he couldn't answer Jun's question, how he's never felt this way for anyone in his life before Jun and how, even though he doesn't know what it means, he wants to see it through. He wants to know Jun, not just as a collection of secrets he's managed to piece together. He wants to know the real Jun, and he wants Jun to know him too. He wants more than what they have. He can admit that now.

But this isn't the time. Jun is already breathing softly behind him, his breath stirring the hair on the back of Nino's neck.

In the morning, they'll start fresh. Nino will fix all of his past mistakes, will lay bare his earnest desire to make up for them. He'll do whatever it takes to make Jun see.

For now, he lies in Jun's arms, lets his mind go quiet. He drifts to sleep, happily anticipating the day that awaits them.

~
When he wakes up in the morning, Jun is gone.

He doesn't come back.

~
A week passes, then two. Nino isn't worried.

Three weeks, and he starts to doubt.

Four, and doubt has shifted into dread. Aiba tells him to reach out, but that sounds crazy to him. Jun will contact him when he's ready, and for Nino to push it before that would be too much.

Six weeks, and he almost caves. He's sitting on his balcony, already halfway through his third cigarette of the day. He's watching the city sprawled before him, cars and people moving through the streets, living their own lives. Is Jun out there somewhere, sneaking out on his lunch break to drive aimlessly?

Nino stubs his cigarette out and pulls his phone from his back pocket to bring up Jun's messages. He types in Are you ok?, but when it comes time to press send, he can't bring himself to do it.

He wavers day after day, staring at the message thread that hovers at the top of his inbox, a small line of text displayed underneath it to remind him: Last draft saved 12/10 1:36pm. It's another week before he finally opens the thread again and sees his message, typed but never sent, waiting patiently for him to make up his mind. He presses send before he can convince himself not to.

Jun doesn't respond.

~
He shoves the guitar into a corner of the closet so he doesn't have to think about it anymore. He takes on new clients to fill the Saturday spot he's been keeping open "just in case," but he drops them just as quickly at the first hint of attachment. He can't stomach the thought of going down this path with anyone else. Sorting his schedule in the morning becomes a chore, something he can't face until he has two cups of coffee in him to make up for the sleep he's not getting. He still loves his job, that much hasn't changed, and it's certainly not as if the sex is less fulfilling, but the thought of opening up his messages and not seeing Jun's name among them weighs on him.

It's embarrassing and he absolutely never does it when other people are around, but every now and then he finds himself trawling through business articles on the recent dealings of Matsumoto Enterprises, because at this point it's his only way of knowing that Jun is even alive. Thinking about it like that makes him feel like an over-emotional teenager, so he tries not to read the articles fully, just checks that the date is recent and then skims through the paragraphs in search of something concrete with Jun's name attached.

But every time he does it, he feels a little bit like he's drowning. His heart drums up a raucous beat against his ribcage, and his throat tightens until he feels like he can't breathe. He has to go stand on the balcony and smoke two cigarettes just to calm himself down. Aiba catches him once, when they're out to dinner for Aiba's birthday; Nino isn't even sure what triggers it -- someone's cologne? a passing glimpse of a dark suit? -- but suddenly he feels trapped, claustrophobic. He excuses himself to the bathroom but Aiba comes to check on him before long and finds him panicking in one of the stalls, and he has to call Ohno in to help him breathe through it. C'mon, Nino-chan, you're okay. Four in, eight out. Count with me.

He's grateful to have friends who care about him this much, but at the same time he feels humiliated. He's always prided himself on being in control, doing everything he can to avoid this exact situation -- getting too involved, making it too personal -- and now he can't even control his own body. It's like he was driving down the freeway, obeying every traffic law in the book, when suddenly someone cut his steering line and his brakes, and now he's just flailing his arms in front of his face and hoping he doesn't crash headfirst into the median.

If he knew Jun was never coming back, that he didn't need Nino anymore, that would be enough. It's the not knowing that tears him apart and turns everything upside down. It's the voice that whispers in the back of his head, Maybe today will be the day. If Jun would just tell him, he could move on, could pack up his messy feelings and forget any of it ever happened in the first place.

Now, all he can think is: He couldn't even have let me know?

And then one day, he realizes how absurd that is.

Let him know? Jun doesn't owe him anything of the sort. Jun has given so much already, and Nino just took more, never satisfied with what he had.

That thought deflates him, puffs all the despair right out of him. In its place, anger churns and boils, scalding him from the inside out.

Jun owes him nothing. Not a notice, not an explanation, not even a goodbye. This whole time, Nino's one role has been to provide a service, and Jun held up his end of the bargain all along, went above and beyond several times over. But if somewhere along the way he started to blur the lines, started to want more than Nino ever agreed to give -- well, that's on him. Nino doesn't owe him a damn thing either. Not his worry, not his sympathy, not his frustration, his confusion, his sleepless nights spent struggling just to breathe.

If Jun wants their transaction to be done, then so be it.

He deletes Jun's number, clears the browser history on his phone and vows never to look up Jun's name again. He goes into the closet to find places for all the gifts he's been putting off sorting, and while he's in there he stares down the guitar and stubbornly jerks off to it just to prove to himself that he still can. It's just a thing, he tells himself. A thing that was given to him by a former client. Nothing less, even Nino can't fool himself into thinking it's less, but certainly nothing more. There is no "more" in his line of work.

They're all just things, organized in countless rows of other things from countless other clients. They don't matter. They carry no significance, no sentimental value. The memory of who they came from holds no control over Nino or his emotions, and he's exhausted right down to his bones from allowing himself to believe otherwise.

That won't happen again. He's finished believing.

It's done.

~
Cut the steering, cut the brakes -- Nino will jump out of the goddamn car before he lets himself crash and burn.


Part 3