A piece of cheesecake for gomushroom (3/5)

[futurepm_mod]

Sho wakes up to a skull-splitting headache. He shuts his eyes as soon as he opens them; the sunlight from the windows too bright. He rolls over to his side, cracks one eye open and finds a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water, both of which he downs immediately.

He sits on the edge of the bed, cradling his head in his hands, the heels of his palms resting right over his eyes as he waits for the medication to take effect. It takes a while because his headache seems to be the size of Tokyo Dome, but it gradually starts to disappear.

When the headache has faded a bit and Sho can open his eyes, he sees himself in last night’s clothes, the bed bereft of pillows with only the thin fitted sheet left.

There’s a human-sized mound in his periphery, and he blinks several times before he realizes it must be Matsumoto. Sho can’t remember how they managed to get back, but he knows it has to be Matsumoto’s doing since he can’t remember much aside from laughing a lot and some game with chopsticks.

Chopsticks. Ohno. The game. Ohno as the king.

Sho rushes to the bathroom and locks the door, studies his face in the mirror. What happened last night? He remembers the cheering and the wolf whistles, Matsumoto’s lips right on his ear saying they have to do something—

“Oh god,” Sho says, clutching at the sink for support. Body shots. He remembers the lime. It was sour, but he didn’t get to taste all of it.

And Matsumoto. Matsumoto was the one doing the body shots, licking salt off...from where exactly?

“Oh god,” Sho repeats, pressing a hand to his face. He doesn’t remember where, but he remembers a tongue—ticklish, slow, deliberate. Matsumoto licked salt off his body, and he lay there on the bar countertop, completely willing.

Sho’s not embarrassed by his submission. It was a dare, one that he agreed to do. He’s horrified by the idea that he doesn’t remember all of it, that there’s a part of him that really, really, really wants to remember now that he knows that it was Matsumoto who did all the licking.

He stares at his own reflection and pats his cheeks to wake himself up.

He needs a shave. Then a bath. He can’t think of Matsumoto and his talented tongue, not when the other man is asleep and unaware. Does Matsumoto remember what happened? Will he remember when he wakes up?

Great, Sho thinks. Whatever happened last night, he doesn’t think he can ask anyone, in case he had done humiliating things he would live happier not knowing about.

But a part of him remains curious, wanting the details. He doesn’t remember anything after the body shots. He doesn’t even remember how many shots Ohno asked Matsumoto to do. All he can recall is a tongue against his skin.

He’s under the shower when it comes back, that he asked Matsumoto to take him home. Now that Sho’s sober, home is the poor choice of word for it but Matsumoto didn’t seem to mind.

Sho shakes his head, annoyed at himself. He must’ve been a sight, a grown man in his thirties, asking another to take him home after a round of body shots. The last time he engaged in something like that, he was blond and more confident but less restrained, in his early twenties and still in university.

What else did he do last night? His past drunken episodes courtesy of Aiba, Ohno, and Nino had him doing strip teases, immortalized in a shaky but clear video that those three still possess. Sho prays no one remembered to take a video of whatever happened the night before.

He’s drying himself off with a towel when he hears a knock on the door that startles him.

“I need to pee,” Matsumoto says behind the door, his voice gruff and scratchy.

“Just a sec!” Sho says in panic, hastily wrapping the towel around his lower half. He hasn’t even reached his hair, and he runs a hand through the wet strands.

He grabs his clothes and opens the door.

Matsumoto has this frown on his face when Sho looks at him, but it quickly disappears. His mouth parts slightly as his eyes stray lower on Sho’s form, then he seems to catch himself, blinking repeatedly.

“Pee,” is all Matsumoto says. He doesn’t even have his glasses on, which means he just rushed to the bathroom as soon as his bladder ordered him to.

Sho gets elbowed to the side and the door slams shut. Sho thinks he may have seen something on Matsumoto’s neck, but he wasn’t able to confirm it since the guy’s locked in the bathroom now.

He proceeds to get dressed, and he at least has his top and jeans on by the time Matsumoto exits the bathroom.

“What would you like for breakfast?” Sho asks, grabbing his phone. He’s greeted by a couple of winking emojis from Aiba, a few thumbs up emojis from Ohno, and the most distressing of all: Nino’s message of So has Jun-kun managed to lick every inch of your body by now?

Sho is not mentally equipped to deal with any of these at the moment. He turns to Matsumoto and the man shrugs, one hand rubbing his neck.

“My head seems determined to kill me, so I’m not all about breakfast at the moment,” Matsumoto says, returning to his nest of blankets and pillows on the couch. There’s something off about him, like his strides are too calculated that it’s almost robotic.

“I’ll just order room service,” Sho tries.

“Whatever,” is the half-muffled reply before Matsumoto covers his face with a pillow.

Sho racks his brains for any reason why the guy is treating him coldly. He seems to remember them being too close the night before, to the point Aiba complained and warned them not to makeout in public.

As if they would.

He faces his phone and ignores Ohno and Aiba’s messages, tapping on Nino’s.

Please tell me you’re just the next Nostradamus and there’s no video of it, he sends.

His phone beeps, almost immediately at that. I don’t know, Sho-chan. You seemed totally into it. ;)

Fuck. Is it on instagram? Tell me it’s not anywhere online.

The ellipses only appear for a brief moment. Nino has always been a fast typer despite having small hands. It’s on LINE, thanks to Aiba-shi’s efforts.

Definitely not in the LINE group Sho shares with the other three. Perhaps Nino pertains to his private one with Aiba.

Before he can reply, he receives a video attachment with a duration of thirty-two seconds.

Sho makes sure he’s in the bathroom with the door shut before he taps on it, letting it play.

The camera’s shaking for the most part, but it’s definitely the bar, with loud cheers and booming bass serving as background music. And it’s definitely him, lying on the bar countertop with arms above his head.

It’s also definitely him and Matsumoto, doing a round of body shots while Ohno looks incredibly happy and high as he watches them. The camera shakes again, with Aiba saying, “I got to get closer for this,” then he is closer, the camera right above Sho as Matsumoto licks off a line of salt right on top of his nipple.

The Sho in the video arches, eyes sliding shut. His body is writhing.

Sho is honestly mortified.

The video ends in rambunctious screaming, and his phone beeps as another message from Nino arrives.

So do you now have a legitimate answer for the sex question?

Sho glares at his phone, pretending it’s Nino. No. And before you ask, that’s because we didn’t.

You mean not yet.

Sho does a mental count. We were pretty drunk last night, Nino. You’ve seen the video.

The reply is instant, like Nino was in the middle of typing it already. Oh, you were drunk, all right. But I doubt Jun-kun was.

Sho chooses not to reply to that one, instead switching apps to find the restaurant list he had a colleague at work make. Would Matsumoto be in the mood for an American breakfast? There’s a hotdog joint that Sho really wants to check out.

Recalling that Matsumoto did leave things up to him, Sho makes the call and places an order. When he’s done, he heads back out, finding his companion still buried under the thick duvet, so he busies himself with the newspaper instead.

It eats up an hour of his time. The delivery arrives by the time he reaches the sports section, and he takes the paper bag and pays for it with own money. When he’s done setting the table for their late breakfast, he catches Matsumoto sitting up in his periphery.

“I got us hotdogs,” Sho says, flashing the man a small smile. Matsumoto doesn’t acknowledge him. “I picked a chili corn dog for you because it has good reviews, but if you want to try mine, that’s okay too.”

Matsumoto puts his glasses on and blinks blearily as he faces Sho, and that’s when Sho sees it: a blemish of purple and red on Matsumoto’s neck, a stark contrast to the pale column of his throat. Sho blinks at the sight of it, mouth hanging open.

Matsumoto seems to notice his reaction, raising a self-conscious hand to hide it as he looks away, but it’s too late. The mark is evidently fresh; Sho can remember no hickey on the man’s neck when they went to the bar.

Before Sho can think on it, he asks, “Where did you get that?”

Matsumoto’s eyes snap back to his, and they seem angry behind his glasses. Then Matsumoto laughs, mocking and sarcastic. “I’m not even surprised,” he says, mostly to himself, but Sho hears it anyway.

“What?” Sho asks.

Matsumoto gives him a look, one that’s almost a glare. “What do you remember from last night, Sho-san?”

“The video,” Sho says unwittingly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I mean the body shots,” Sho tries, but Matsumoto has an eyebrow quirked now, and it’s a rather intimidating look on him.

“There is a video of the body shots?” Matsumoto holds up his hand just as Sho opens his mouth to respond. “Don’t answer that. What else do you remember?”

“I asked you to take me home.”

“That’s all?”

Sho purses his lips. “I remember nothing after that.”

“Typical,” Matsumoto says, a tongue against his cheek. He seems to be annoyed at Sho.

“Did I give you that, Matsumoto-san?” Sho asks quietly, pertaining to the hickey.

“Does it look like something I got from someone else in that bar?” Matsumoto asks back.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing that’s out of Sho’s mouth.

“Are you apologizing for the question or are you sorry that it happened?” There’s something in Matsumoto’s voice now, his tone clipped.

Sho hesitates. This is a very awkward conversation, one that Sho didn’t imagine he’d have with a paid escort.

A paid but also a very handsome—and possibly Sho’s type—kind of escort.

“I wasn’t supposed to do that,” Sho says.

“You hired me.”

That’s exactly the point here, Sho wants to say. Instead he goes for, “Yes. And that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Matsumoto looks at him, and the tone of his voice is indecipherable. “Why not?”

Because it’s not real, Sho thinks. None of this is real. It’s just an arrangement. A paid arrangement to shift people’s attention elsewhere. Matsumoto Jun is not really his boyfriend. He’s someone Sho paid to act like one, and Sho’s feeling guilty now.

What if Matsumoto simply let it happen because Sho’s paying him to do his part, to play along? Sho feels sick—that makes him no different from someone who committed sexual harassment.

The hotdogs he ordered don’t seem too inviting now.

Sho runs a hand down his face, ashamed. “I paid for you to act as my boyfriend. I didn’t pay you to sleep with me, or to be receptive to any advances I might have made. I’m sorry. That won’t happen again.”

Matsumoto’s voice is angry when he speaks next. “Do you think I allowed it because you were paying me?”

What else could it be? Sho knows that only those with money can request for the company of Matsumoto. He’s an escort—he must be used to clients making advances towards him. And he’s used to responding to them accordingly; that’s his job. Sho feels lightheaded, as if there’s alcohol again that’s rushing to his head.

Matsumoto let him do it because Sho is his current employer. It’s just a job for him, and Sho is the current job. Clearly, Matsumoto let it continue as far as it could because it was what the job had called for him to do.

That’s all Sho is and that’s all he’ll ever be. Sho drags his hand away from his face, wondering if he looks so pitiful in Matsumoto’s eyes that the man allowed him to do whatever he wanted. Did he look so lonely, so desperate?

“Does it matter?” Sho asks in the end. “It’s done. But I can promise it won’t happen again. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

“Did you hate it?” Matsumoto asks, his voice small. “Did you hate it that much for you to say that?”

Does Sho hate it? Yes. He hates what this arrangement has brought him. He thought it would solve a problem but instead it gave him a dozen more. Now he’s made moves towards a man who’s unlikely to reciprocate, and he remembers nothing about it but still feels responsible and guilty.

Because Matsumoto clearly allowed it without giving anything back. That’s the part Sho can’t think about without feeling hurt; he must have been the only one who wanted it. The body shots was a dare and Matsumoto’s competitive side didn’t back down from dares. But whatever came after had no excuse.

“Yes,” Sho says, looking away now. “It’s the worst thing.”

Silence falls between them, and Sho allows it to drag on despite feeling very uncomfortable. He doesn’t know what else to say.

Matsumoto exhales, standing up. “That’s some...feedback. I guess I did ask for it.” He laughs, but it sounds so hollow. “I’m going shopping. Please don’t hesitate to send a message in case you need me.”

Matsumoto heads for the bathroom and he shuts the door, leaving Sho staring at his takeout.

Sho pushes the food away from him and buries his face in his hands.

--

Matsumoto disappears after that, not touching the food Sho had ordered for him. Sho busies himself with having a stroll around the hotel premises, checking out facilities and restaurants. He eventually reaches the beach that’s owned by the hotel, and he takes a seat on the shore, watching the scenery before him.

It’s almost sunset. The clouds are turning purple and the stars are beginning to appear, half of the sun already disappearing on the horizon. It’s orange now and the water shines, like there are precious stones carried over by each wave.

It’s a lovely sight. Sho wishes he’s not alone to witness this.

His phone beeps, and when he checks, it’s a message from Ohno.

Fireworks tonight at the beach, courtesy of the hotel management. At midnight. See you there?

Sho smiles and taps the text box. Was that a group message, sent to everyone who’s here for your wedding?

It takes a minute or two, but his phone vibrates once more. Yeah. But I removed the ‘hotel management’ part in my messages to the others so they’ll think I organized it. :D I’ll see you at the beach with Matsujun!

Sho ponders on what to reply, and he settles for a simple thumbs up emoji in the end. He opens his message thread with Matsumoto and tells him that Ohno’s expecting them to be at the beach for a fireworks display.

It doesn’t take long for Sho to receive a reply from Matsumoto.

Understood.

One word response with proper punctuation and no emojis. Very formal and direct.

Sho tucks his phone away and stares out, finds that the sun has almost completely set. People who were swimming are beginning their return to shore, and as it gets darker, the fire from the nearby torches become the source of light for Sho. He remains where he is anyway, basking in his solitude for as long as he could since it allows him to think.

When did his perspective about this arrangement begin to change? It’s hard to pinpoint, since the line between reality and faking it blurs for someone as inexperienced as Sho. He won’t deny that he finds Matsumoto attractive—both the escort and the man behind it.

To Sho, there are two sides to the man he hired. The paid escort with perfect hair and a charming persona, always ready to give a show when he notices that someone’s looking. The ideal companion whose wit and smiles enamor people into liking him, never revealing much about himself aside from what his online profile says.

That one operates when they’re not alone, paid hourly for his efforts.

Then there’s Matsumoto Jun, the one who wears large-framed glasses instead of contacts, a person who’s terrible with mornings and isn’t hiding it. A man who painstakingly labels each item he has shopped for with a piece of sticker paper with names handwritten in permanent marker. One who complains about the lack of scent in hotel-issued soaps but uses them anyway.

That side of Matsumoto only surfaces when they’re inside their room, when no one’s around to look at them and discover what they really are to each other.

Sho wonders who was it that he spoke to earlier before Matsumoto left. Was that the escort, taking offense at Sho’s feedback (as Matsumoto himself refers to it) on his performance? Or was that the person underneath the escort, someone who’s not acting and speaking to Sho without thinking of Sho as his employer?

The disappointing part in this, Sho thinks, is that he’ll never know. Matsumoto has many sides to him. Sometimes he’s grouchy and intimidating, sometimes he’s kind and accommodating. But are any of those real in the first place? Sho can’t tell what’s real and what’s not, which one of Matsumoto’s actions might mean something (assuming they do mean something and not just part of acting).

He checks his watch for the date and counts five more days until the wedding. In a week, the arrangement is over. He’ll pay the remaining half, and Matsumoto Jun will vanish from his life, free to accept requests again.

Is that all he is to the guy? Just another source of money? Sho never had that impression. Matsumoto may be exacting, but Sho can feel the respect the man attributes to him. More than anything, Matsumoto evidently respects him.

Sho tries to convince himself to be contented with that. They still have to fake it for almost a week, after all. He tells himself that he can’t want more, not when it’s from a service he’s paying for.

He can’t ask for more because it’s not real.

Sho stands and wipes off the sand that stuck to his clothes. He heads back to the hotel, intending to flip through some movies until midnight to have something that’ll occupy his time.

The alarm he’s set for midnight rings when he’s halfway into Pacific Rim, right when Ashida Mana’s character debuts on screen. Matsumoto hasn’t shown up in the hotel room, so Sho can only assume he’s already waiting at the beach.

Sho pauses the movie (his third movie since he returned to the room) and shrugs his jacket on, pocketing his phone and heading out once more.

When he reaches the ground floor, Aiba and Shihori spot him. Shihori cheerfully loops her arm around Sho’s and the three of them head to the beach together.

“Where’s Jun-san?” Shihori asks, some of her hair moving with the wind despite most being trapped in a messy bun.

“At the beach already,” Sho says, despite not knowing if it’s true. “He went shopping all day.”

“He does look like the type who buys a lot,” Shihori says, laughing. “I noticed his shoes the other day. Cute pompoms.”

“You mean horrible,” Sho says, not really joking. It was cute because it was Matsumoto wearing it. But Sho didn’t care if those shoes were Louboutin or from any high-class fashion brand. There were ugly shoes and there were unexplainable shoes.

Matsumoto’s shoes at that time fall under the latter.

“You’re going to pay for that Sho-chan,” Aiba says, throwing an arm around him. “Don’t let him hear you.”

“Don’t tell him,” Sho says, nudging Aiba with his shoulder. “And you too, Shihori-chan.”

“Your fashion outlook is safe with me,” Shihori says with a grin. “As always.”

They reach the beach where people have gathered, and it doesn’t take long for them to locate Ohno’s group. It’s Haru-chan who waves at them, and Sho waves back as Shihori sprints and gives Haru a hug.

“It’s starting in a few,” Ohno says, and Sho sees Matsumoto with him. “Matsujun was already here when we arrived.”

“Sho-san said midnight,” Matsumoto reasons, but he isn’t looking at Sho while he says it.

“And it is past midnight so where is that staff guy,” Ohno grumbles before looking around and walking away.

“I better go and follow him,” Aiba says, already trudging after Ohno. “He might complain in full Japanese and the staff will just stare at him.”

Sho waves them off, hyper aware of being alone with Matsumoto. Technically, they’re not alone since they’re surrounded by Ohno’s other guests, but everyone’s having a chat with someone and isn’t paying any attention to them.

“How was your shopping?” Sho asks just to have something to say. The silence between them is uncomfortable.

“Got what I needed,” Matsumoto answers.

“That’s good to know,” Sho says, just as a dash of white smoke splits the sky in half before red sparks color the night sky.

A series of awed gasps erupt from around them, but Sho doesn’t pay attention. He keeps looking up, eventually smiling as different kinds of fireworks illuminate their surroundings intermittently, bathing them in almost iridescent hues.

Sho tenses when he feels an arm wrap around his middle, but before he can react, he hears a whisper right against his ear.

“Play along,” Matsumoto tells him. “We’re blending in.”

Sho looks around and finds couples around them with arms around each other, watching the fireworks display with awed and happy expressions.

Matsumoto holds him in both arms now, chin hooked on Sho’s shoulder. “Just play along.”

Sho hates that drop in his gut at the idea of this being all an act, but he can’t help being selfish. He presses back, his weight against Matsumoto’s firm chest, their body heat mingling.

It’s not real, his mind screams, and it stings. But he’s been doing a lot of pretending for this week and will have to do more for the next, so to him the next course of action is to keep on doing it.

Sho rests his hands on Matsumoto’s forearms and looks up at the night sky without really seeing. He imagines a scenario that doesn’t involve a website and a credit card and promises himself this will be the last time he’d indulge in such a fantasy.

But for now, Sho savors the proximity and does what he’s been good at for the past few days.

Pretending.

--

Aiba calls for practice the following day, and Sho goes to his hotel room with Matsumoto in tow.

Things between him and Matsumoto are quiet. They talk, but it’s mostly stilted. When they have a conversation, it’s about what’s going to happen for the following week, about schedules and plans. They sleep on the same bed, but Matsumoto places a pillow between them to keep their sides separate.

In front of others is a different story.

In Aiba’s hotel room and in front of Ohno and Ohno’s other friends, they continue with the act. Matsumoto places a hand on the small of Sho’s back as Aiba tells them to get off the couch and find their places. Sho reciprocates, hands framing Matsumoto’s narrow waist as he helps him get into their designated positions according to Ohno’s wishes.

It’s Ohno who choreographed the whole thing, a simple dance number for his bride. They have specific roles because Ohno’s uncharacteristically exacting about this surprise. One group is assigned to a specific dance number while Ohno and his team of groomsmen dance to the entire thing.

Sho is one of those groomsmen, but his dancing skills aren’t up to par with Ohno—a reality since high school that Sho’s come to accept.

Except when he’s holding everyone back.

“I call for a break,” Ohno says after an hour and a half, and everyone agrees. He offers to buy refreshments from the nearest convenience store and everybody pitches in, save for Sho who still tries to get the counting right in his head.

Aiba’s hotel room is bigger than the one Sho’s got; Aiba is the best man after all. Sho heads for the fridge and bums one of the water bottles Aiba stashed in there, taking a huge gulp.

“You okay?” Aiba asks, eyeing him with concern. Aiba’s soaked in sweat, no different from Sho, but unlike Sho, he still has this happy demeanor to him.

“Yeah,” Sho says with a shrug.

“Did something happen?” Aiba steps closer, his voice growing quiet. “Between you and Matsujun, I mean.”

“What?”

“I have the same expression, you know.” Aiba pats his back in what appears to be a gesture of comfort. “Or so Shihori tells me. She says I look in her direction like a scolded puppy whenever we get into a fight.”

Sho shakes his head in denial. “I totally don’t look like a scolded puppy.”

“But you look at him like you’re waiting for something,” Aiba says. “You sure things are okay?”

Sho tips the water bottle once more into his mouth. “They’re fine. I’m going to practice, all right?”

“Remember to take a breather,” Aiba says as a reminder, clapping his back before leaving him alone.

Sho opts to continue practicing in the kitchen, away from prying eyes. If he’s holding everybody back, he needs to exert more effort. He wants to do his part right so Ohno can move on to the next, and the next, and the next. They’re far from completing whatever Ohno prepared, and unless Sho gets something as simple as the counting right, they’re not going further ahead.

He has been told he’s too hard on himself, but to Sho, that’s what the situation calls for most of the time. He always pushes himself. His limits aren’t really limits; to him, they’re more like markers that he needs to do more if he wants to go beyond them.

He’s also been told it’s an annoying part of his personality—that stubbornness. His ex had told him that he often ignored things around him in his desires to do better, and Sho’s been trying to be mindful of his surroundings since someone told him that.

Which is why despite failing and failing, he starts from the top and does the counting again, trying not to let his frustrations show.

“It’s one-two-three and four,” is what Sho hears next, and he finds Matsumoto leaning against the kitchen island. Sho didn’t notice him enter the kitchen; so fixated in his private practice. “Not one-two-three-four.”

Sho tries again, and he curses when he misses the cue after the counting.

He never gets this bit right.

“Like this,” Matsumoto says, then of course he manages to execute the steps perfectly, all flexible limbs at the right timing. “Count slowly.”

“I’m trying, you know?” Sho says, then he sighs, looking at his feet. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”

Matsumoto says nothing, but when Sho expects him to leave, he doesn’t. Instead Matsumoto stands behind him, placing both of his hands on Sho’s hips.

Sho’s rooted to his spot, heart hammering from exertion and something else he can’t quite define.

“Count with me,” Matsumoto whispers since they’re close enough, and Sho does.

Ohno’s teaching methods are different; Ohno is the type who snaps his fingers and dances on Sho’s side until Sho gets it right. Matsumoto, Sho realizes, is the kind of teacher who guides Sho into place, his voice coaxing and gentle as he makes corrections to Sho’s counting. Sho’s clumsier than ever on account of his teacher being not Ohno, but Matsumoto is patient, waving off Sho’s apologies for stepping on his foot multiple times.

This is the closest they’ve been since the fireworks display. Like that one, Matsumoto is behind him and Sho can’t see his face. But unlike the last time, Sho wants to. He wants to see the concentration in Matsumoto’s eyes, on how he’s able to memorize a choreography that’s not even for him. He’s supposed to dance something else, another set since Ohno designated him as a backup.

“You don’t dance this part,” Sho says as they move. He’s becoming used to it, little by little.

“No.”

“Why do you know it?”

“Because I was watching you the entire time.”

Sho shuts his eyes briefly. Don’t say that, he wants to scream at Matsumoto. Stop saying things like that.

Sho shifts his focus on the steps. Matsumoto didn’t mean it like that. He’s exacting and demanding, which means he was just looking out for the mistakes Sho was bound to make. The more misses, the more frustrated Sho becomes. And if he’s frustrated, he might forget his part and not play along, give them both away.

Matsumoto doesn’t mean it like that, Sho convinces himself.

Matsumoto’s hands push further and pull back, and they go at it for minutes until Sho finally gets the hang of it, moving on his own and counting in his head. He doesn’t miss the cue this time and continues onto the next batch of moves until he finishes the part.

“Again,” Matsumoto instructs, but his hands fall away.

Instinct takes over and Sho reaches for Matsumoto’s hands before they completely drop to his sides, placing them back on his hips.

“Guide me,” he says, keeping his eyes forward.

“You can do it on your own now, I think,” Matsumoto tells him, but there’s something in his voice and he doesn’t move, just lets Sho’s hands cover his own right on top of Sho’s hipbones.

“Probably,” Sho acknowledges and squeezes a bit. “Guide me anyway.”

For a moment, neither of them move.

Then Sho hears Matsumoto suck in a breath.

“One, two,” he starts.

And Sho counts the rest with him, the two of them moving as one.

--

The rest of the practice proceeds with the same difficulties, but every time Sho falls behind, he heads to the kitchen and only has to wait for a few moments until Matsumoto follows after him. Because he’s Sho’s personal teacher, Sho adapts to his brusque methods while cherishing whatever little time they have left together.

Because once they’re back in their room, the pretense disappears.

They’re having another break when Ohno throws an arm around Sho, pulling him close.

“You’re doing so well, Sho-kun,” Ohno says, giving him that happy smile that makes his eyes smaller. “Way better when we were teenagers and all you could do so perfectly was shaking your butt.”

“I’m just trying not to hold you back,” Sho reasons.

“He’s helping you out? Matsujun?” Ohno gestures with his chin, and Sho sees Matsumoto doing stretches in the living room, legs spread as he twists his trunk left and right. “He’s very flexible. Aiba-chan kept cracking dirty jokes behind your back.”

Sho rolls his eyes, unsurprised. “Yeah, he’s been helping out,” he says to answer Ohno’s question.

Ohno chuckles. “And here we thought you guys were making out in Aiba-chan’s kitchen every time you two sneak off.”

Sho elbows Ohno on the side, sending Ohno to another fit of giggles. “We wouldn’t.”

“Last Friday says otherwise, but okay.”

“Was I really that embarrassing?”

“No. You were a good sport. I had a lot of fun that night and you were one of the reasons why.” Ohno squeezes his shoulder. “I’m grateful. It’s become one of my most treasured memories, you see.”

“And not just because you guys totally have a video of me lying on that countertop, right?” Sho asks with a skeptical eyebrow.

Ohno smiles. “Nino loved that video.”

“Of course he did. He’s been sending me winking emojis since then.”

Ohno laughs. “Ah, I wish Nino was here.”

“We all do,” Sho tells him.

Ohno gives his shoulder another squeeze. “Ready for another set?”

“Your wedding, your pace,” Sho says.

With that, Ohno leads them to the chorus, snapping his fingers to the beat. Sho follows as best as he can, and when Ohno says their group can rest, he takes a seat on the couch. Aiba immediately plops beside him.

Matsumoto’s group remain as per Ohno’s instructions, and as soon as the music starts, they dance.

Or at least Matsumoto does, because he’s the only one Sho can see at the moment. He always danced in front of the guy, never having the opportunity to see the man move behind him. The steps are almost the same, but those hips…

“Don’t drool now,” Aiba jokes beside him, one finger going under his chin to push his mouth close. Sho didn’t even realize his jaw was hanging open. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen him dance before.”

“Because I’ve never,” Sho says unwittingly, then he backtracks. “I mean, not recently.”

“Pretty sure Oh-chan never gave the instruction for our hips to jut out like that,” Aiba says with a grin.

“You’re not helping,” Sho complains.

“You’re seeing what I’m seeing, right?” Aiba laughs and pats his thigh. “He’s actually good.”

Too good, Sho thinks. Or maybe he’s biased because Matsumoto can clearly dance. Nowhere as nimble as Ohno, but he can execute the moves in the correct timing. Not too mention he’s attractive and—okay, Sho will admit—really hot, with those sturdy-looking shoulders, slim waist, thick thighs…

“Wait until you get to your room, okay?” Aiba says with a laugh.

Sho sighs.

He’s doomed.

--

After five hours of grueling practice (Ohno was relentless), Sho returns to his hotel room with Matsumoto and expresses his desires to soak in a hot tub to loosen the ache currently present in his muscles and joints.

Matsumoto says nothing, and Sho heads off to the bathroom.

So they’re back to not talking much since they’re in this room.

Sho ignores the pang of disappointment in his gut. He gets the water running and sheds off his clothes, folding them neatly as he waits for the tub to fill.

He can’t help letting out a happy sigh when he finally enters the tub, stretching his legs, back, and neck. The water is lukewarm and perfect, and Sho rests his eyes only for a moment.

He’s about to eat this large stuffed clam when he hears someone call his name, and he feels himself getting jerked awake.

When he opens his eyes, it takes a while to focus because it’s too bright. But there’s someone in front of him, repeatedly calling him “Sho-san”, a warm hand on his shoulder.

Sho’s focus returns, and he manages a smile despite being half-awake.

“Jun.”

The hand shaking him freezes, and Sho just stares, blinking and wondering.

Then his coherence comes back, and he sees Matsumoto kneeling beside the tub, halfway into shaking him awake.

“You never called me that before,” Matsumoto mumbles.

“What?” Sho asks, uncertain if he heard it right.

Matsumoto suddenly withdraws his hand and stands. “I thought you drowned in here or something. It’s been two hours, Sho-san. I kept knocking but you weren’t answering, so I used the keycard. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Sho sits up groggily, running a hand down his wet mane. “I fell asleep. I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“It’s fine,” Matsumoto says, already spinning on his heel. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

“I’m sorry,” Sho says again. “About earlier.”

That makes Matsumoto look at him, but Sho turns his head away. “Didn’t mean to call you that.”

“You’re sorry,” Matsumoto says slowly, “for saying my name?”

Sho exhales. “Yes. It wasn’t what we agreed on. That wasn’t the arrangement.”

Something close to a scoff escapes from Matsumoto, but it’s followed by a disbelieving laugh. “The arrangement. Of course.” He makes his way to the door without looking back. “I’m sorry for panicking. It won’t happen again.”

The door slams shut, and Sho brings his knees to his chest, tucking his chin between them.

Everything always turns for the worse once they’re back here. They’d laugh and flirt in front of others, but in here, there’s always something that happens which ruins the illusion, reminds Sho of how things really are between them.

He hates it. He hates that he can’t blame anyone but himself for being in this situation. He shouldn’t have listened to Nino. Shouldn’t have registered on that website, shouldn’t have booked someone like Matsumoto Jun. He should’ve just come to Hawaii alone, accepted all the jokes and jabs aimed at his bachelorhood.

He was so preoccupied with not drawing attention to himself that he miscalculated. He didn’t expect for this arrangement to be this hard. It’s bad enough that he’s lying to Ohno, Haru, Aiba, Shihori, and the others.

Did he have to lie to himself too?

Sho thinks about the last time he’s been attracted to someone and tries to recall if it was this hard. And it was, he realizes, because being attracted to the same sex brings that. He’s never had it easy, and he considers himself stupid for thinking this would be different.

How can it be when things seem to have gone in reverse without his knowledge? The arrangement was for him to pretend when he’s out of this room, to act like he’s attracted to Matsumoto and to imply that there is intimacy behind closed doors. When he’s back in here, in 703, he’s supposed to act normally.

But now, it’s like he’s acting normally when he’s outside the room and suppressing himself once he’s back inside. It’s nothing different from how he is in social gatherings. Sho hides who he is from most people; only the people dear to him know of his preferences. It’s something that will never affect his job, anyway.

With Matsumoto in the picture, everything just became more difficult. Sho has to hold himself back once they’re back in this room, afraid that he’ll do something rash again like that night of Ohno’s bachelor party. If his advances were wanted and welcomed, wouldn’t there be proof of it? There was nothing on Sho’s person—no mark, no scratch, not even a phantom feeling of reciprocation anywhere on his skin.

He wonders how long he can keep this up. It’s affecting him and it’s evidently affecting Matsumoto, too. They hardly talk when they’re in here. Matsumoto seems keen to stay away from him, and Sho’s certain he’d either be watching the TV or be preoccupied on his phone once Sho enters the bedroom. Anything to hold his attention while Sho’s in the same room so they don’t have to say a word to each other.

Maybe Matsumoto’s getting tired too. All that acting, pretending he cares when he’s only doing it because he’s being paid to—that has to take a toll on someone. Perhaps he’s just better at hiding it compared to Sho.

Sho hides his face in his arms and hugs his knees closer in an attempt to be as small as possible.

He shouldn’t have listened to Nino.

--

Practice takes up the next few days of Sho’s stay in Hawaii, and he and Matsumoto seemed to have developed a routine for it. They’d practice from midday till early evening, keep up with the pretense since it’s what they had agreed on.

One time, Matsumoto helps Sho wipe his sweat in front of everyone else, a towel in his hand which he runs through Sho’s hair.

Since they’re close, Sho manages to whisper, “I can do it myself.”

“I know,” Matsumoto whispers back, his lips hardly moving. “But public displays like this make people look away.”

Sho looks over Matsumoto’s shoulder and meets Ohno’s eyes before Ohno smiles and politely looks the other way.

“The more we do this, the more they get used to it. The more they stop looking at us and mind their own business,” Matsumoto says, and Sho hates how practiced it sounds. He chooses to say nothing, instead twisting his own towel in his hands.

Matsumoto’s choices of PDA are mild. Fingers brushing Sho’s, an arm wrapped possessively around Sho’s shoulders when they’re on Aiba’s couch and listening to Ohno enumerate the parts they ought to polish, a hand resting on Sho’s thigh sometimes. They’re supposed to be normal given the setup, but every time Matsumoto’s hand and that obnoxious ring he’s wearing touches Sho’s skin, it drives Sho crazy.

Because it’s so casual. The way Matsumoto just goes for it without warning highlights his experience in such things, and Sho feels he’s getting left behind. If they’re found out, it’d be because of him.

On the final day of practice, two days before the wedding, that’s when Sho decides to be bolder. In his defense, he does it as a thank you, nothing too different from that dinner they had on their second day in Hawaii.

They’re on the last few beats of the routine, and when the music stops, Ohno declares that he’s expecting them to perform in top shape during the wedding and thanks them for their cooperation.

They all clap, and some even let out cheers of relief. Ohno asks for a group hug and they all oblige, and when Sho’s side is pressed close to Matsumoto’s, that’s when he does it.

A kiss on the cheek.

Sho doesn’t miss Matsumoto’s brown eyes widening, heat creeping up to his cheeks. He looks at Sho disbelievingly, and in that moment, seeing him so shocked and bewildered with his cheekbones tinged with pink, Sho wants to kiss him.

Properly, at that.

But he refrains. The group hug is over, and Ohno dismisses them with a wave and a reminder that “Nobody breathes a word to Haru or I’m not paying for your return flight!” which earns a laugh from all of them.

Well, almost all of them. Matsumoto’s not laughing, still looking at Sho like Sho’s not real.

Sho gives Matsumoto a questioning look, something the man dismisses with a shake of his head. Ohno invites them all for celebratory drinks after they get changed, and Sho promises to be there after he takes a bath to get rid of the sweaty and sticky feeling.

Matsumoto doesn’t say anything on the way back to their room.

When Sho’s done with a quick shower and all dressed, it’s then Matsumoto speaks up.

“I won’t be drinking. Please send my apologies to Ohno-san.”

Sho inclines his head and frowns. “You okay?”

“Yes.” Matsumoto closes his book—a novel he purchased in one of his shopping trips—and gathers his things as he heads for the bathroom. “I just don’t feel like going out anymore.”

“What do you want me to tell them?”

“Exhaustion from practice or anything close. Up to you.”

“Okay,” Sho says with a nod, and Matsumoto walks past him. “Matsumoto-san?”

Matsumoto looks over his shoulder just before he manages to cross the bathroom threshold.

“Do you want anything? I could grab something to eat if you want. Or if there’s anything you need—”

“I’m fine, Sho-san.” Matsumoto tilts his head briefly. “Thank you.”

Sho treats that as a dismissal, leaving for the hotel bar which is just somewhere in the ground floor of the hotel. He doesn’t have the luxury of getting drunk so he decides to not entertain any wild ideas of imbibing too much liquor. He doesn’t want a repeat of Ohno’s bachelor party.

He’s perhaps in his fourth or fifth bottle of beer and in the middle of laughing at Aiba’s tale about this Filipino egg delicacy when his phone beeps.

When he checks, it’s a message of Nino, and the content makes him frown, his earlier delight at Aiba’s disgust vanishing on the spot.

What did you do? Jun-kun texted me, saying he shouldn’t have accepted the job from me. What happened?

Sho feels sick all of a sudden, his chest constricting and making him very uncomfortable.

“Sho-chan,” Aiba says, peering up at him. “What’s wrong? You all right?”

“I have to go,” Sho says, grabbing his jacket and getting off the stool.

“Something came up? Was that Matsujun?” Ohno asks from Sho’s left, lips twitching to gesture at Sho’s phone.

“It’s nothing,” Sho says, dismissing their concerns. “Thanks for the beer, Satoshi-kun. I’ll see you.”

Ohno opens his arms in a hug and Sho embraces him briefly. Aiba gives him a hug too, waving as Sho makes his way back.

He presses the buzzer with force and ignores the funny feeling in his stomach when Matsumoto opens the door. There are two ice packs on either sides of his head, held together by a pink cloth. He’s wearing a bathrobe and he greets Sho with a “welcome back” that only makes Sho feel worse.

Sho pushes past him and deposits his jacket on the couch before taking a seat.

“You’re back early,” Matsumoto says, and Sho can only take so much.

He holds up his hand.

“I have something to say. I’ll appreciate it if you’re going to let me talk first, say everything I have to say before you say anything.”

“I understand,” Matsumoto says, voice turning serious. He’s switched to keigo too, and Sho takes a deep breath.

“I’m calling it off,” he says, breathing hard. “Everything. The arrangement, whatever it is we agreed on, I’m cancelling it. On the way here, I already paid for the half I owe you. If you check your account, all the money should be there. I paid for the remaining balance, Matsumoto-san, according to the original calculations. You don’t have to compute for the hours you had for yourself; consider it as a tip for your excellent services.”

Matsumoto stares at him, his expression confused and hurt. Perhaps Sho wounded his pride as an escort. “May I know why?” he asks, voice trembling.

“I got a text,” Sho says, shrugging his shoulders. “From Nino. Asking me what I did. What made you say what you said.”

Matsumoto opens his mouth, but Sho holds up his hand.

“Please. You don’t have to explain.” Don’t make it worse, Sho thinks. He already feels awful, and all he wants after this is to never see Matsumoto Jun’s face again. “I’m sorry for what I did earlier. I was just trying to play along. I guess I got carried away. I’m also sorry for making things uncomfortable between us, for making advances towards you. But it won’t happen again; I assure you this time.”

Sho stands and grabs his jacket, heading for the closet. “You can have the room.”

He tries to walk past Matsumoto but the man grabs his wrist to stop him.

“You won’t even let me talk?” Matsumoto asks, his grip tight and unrelenting.

What’s there to say? To Sho, this man before him likely finds his touch to be repulsive, only bearing with it because of the money. But there’s no money involved now; Sho already paid for everything.

“Your message to Nino said everything I needed to know, Matsumoto-san. I don’t think there’s anything else you can say.”

Matsumoto tries to say something, but Sho speaks over him, raising his voice a little.

“And frankly, I don’t want to hear anything else that you have to say.”

Matsumoto’s grip on him loosens, and Sho steps back to bow.

“I’ve been in your care all this time. Thank you for your hard work.”

With that, Sho spins on his heel and moves quickly, grabbing his bags. He works on muscle memory, not really committing to memory what he’s doing, and he’s out in the corridor before he knows it. He heads to Aiba’s room without really thinking; all he wants is to get as far from 703 as soon as possible.

It’s Shihori who opens the door, a surprised “Sho-san!” escaping from her. She eyes his luggage and immediately swings the door open before Sho can even ask if he can stay.

“Sho-chan!” Aiba says, appearing from the bedroom. He’s in his I LOVE CHIBA t-shirt, a nostalgic sight for Sho that makes him smile a bit. “Sho-chan, what happened? Where’s Matsujun?”

“I’ll go make coffee,” Shihori says, guiding Sho to the kitchen island. “Masaki, don’t just stand there.”

Aiba moves, immediately taking the seat beside Sho. He waits, watching Sho with concern in his eyes.

Sho knows he can tell Aiba everything. Aiba is the person he goes to when he doesn’t need answers; Aiba simply listens and makes someone feel they’re not alone.

It’s what Sho needs right now.

A mug of coffee is pressed into Sho’s hands, just as Shihori and Aiba exchange a look.

“It’s fine,” Shihori says, smiling. “I can room with the other bridesmaids. If you guys have something to talk about, I can sleep somewhere else.”

“I’m sorry,” Sho says immediately. “You don’t have to go, Shihori-chan. It’s just that…”

“Shh,” Shihori says, shaking her head. “It’s okay. Let this idiot take care of you.” She points to Aiba. “I’ll leave the iPad since it’s charging and will be back for it tomorrow. In the meantime, don’t you dare touch the Mario Run in there.”

Aiba gives her a salute. Shihori rounds the kitchen island and gives Sho a tight hug, something he returns albeit weakly.

“Now I’ll go get my stuff and leave you boys talking,” she says, but not before sharing a quick kiss with Aiba.

Sho waits until Shihori’s out of the room before he tells Aiba the truth.

“I called it off as soon as I got back from the bar,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee. He doesn’t react to the sensation of his tongue burning.

“Called what off? Sho-chan, what are you talking about?”

Sho inhales deep and holds it for as long as he can before he lets it all out. “The first thing you have to know is that I don’t really have a boyfriend.”

Aiba’s eyes widen, and Sho just nods. Now that it’s out, he can’t stop talking. “Matsumoto Jun is a paid escort, an acquaintance and friend of Nino’s. Nino suggested him to me when I was worrying over being the butt of the jokes in this entire event. I know most of Satoshi-kun’s colleagues and friends. I’m older than most of them. And I had a feeling I knew what they were going to say.”

He sighs. “So Nino suggested I pretend that I have someone. I met him then.”

“So everything— everything these past few days—”

“That was all an act.” Sho bows his head. “I’m sorry for lying to you.”

“Does Oh-chan know?”

“Not yet, but I’m going to tell him. He deserves to know.”

Aiba leans back, letting out a swift exhale. “I thought you guys were really together. You acted like it.”

“Yeah,” Sho says, letting the mug of coffee transfer its warmth to his hands. “But that’s all there is to it. Acting. He’s a professional, you see. An escort for VIPs. I wouldn’t have been able to book him if Nino didn’t play a part.”

Silence falls between him and Aiba, and Sho just focuses on his coffee.

“You said you called it off,” Aiba prompts.

“I did. I paid for his services in full as I rode the elevator back up.”

“Why?” Aiba faces him, studying his face. “Was there any breach of contract or anything? Was he posting about you online and saying mean stuff?”

“No,” Sho says, shaking his head fiercely. “No. He would never.”

“Then why? Matsujun seemed like a nice guy; he was kind enough to help me throughout practice, you know. Why did you call it off?”

Instead of responding, Sho pulls out his phone from his pocket and shows Aiba the text he got from Nino.

Aiba returns the phone after a brief moment. “Did anything happen that would warrant him to say such a thing?”

“I kissed him,” Sho says, shutting his eyes. “After practice, as we did the group hug. On the cheek.”

“We all saw that,” Aiba tells him. “I thought it was sweet.”

“Well, he didn’t think the same,” Sho says, trying to keep his voice nonchalant.

“Are you sure?” Aiba swings his legs to face him, looking at him in all seriousness now. “Sho-chan, are you absolutely sure?”

Why wouldn’t Sho be? What else could that text mean?

Aiba just needs context.

“After the bachelor party,” Sho begins, and Aiba nods in encouragement.

“Yeah, when Matsujun took you home with only a ‘we’re going, congratulations on your marriage’ for a goodbye?”

“That,” Sho says. “I don’t have a lot of memories about that night. But if you noticed, he kept wearing turtlenecks after that.”

Aiba smiles. “I’m not five years old, Sho-chan. I knew he was hiding something because something must have happened.”

“I left him with...well, you know what. We talked about it the following day, but he never reciprocated, you know? I felt awful and ashamed for my behavior.” Sho hides half of his face behind the coffee mug. “I was paying him, yes. But not for that. And he never returned any of the advances I made that night, so what could that mean?”

“That was five days ago though,” Aiba points out. “The bachelor party, I mean. And Shihori saw you at the fireworks display. You were spooning.”

“Since the bachelor party, every time we returned to our room, we wouldn’t speak to each other unless it was necessary.” Sho has no idea how a laugh escapes from him. “It was maddening. That night made things more awkward between us, and it was my fault.”

“Oh Sho-chan,” Aiba says with a sad smile and a perceptive look in his eyes, “you really liked him, didn’t you?”

Sho doesn’t answer, staring at the dregs on the bottom of his coffee mug.

Aiba remains silent for the next minute, then he places a hand on Sho’s shoulder.

“What do you need, Sho-chan? Tell me.”

“I want to go home,” Sho says sincerely, “and forget that this all happened. Forget that I met him. That I like…” He lets out a breath through clenched teeth. “I just want all of this to be over.”

“Only a day to go,” Aiba reminds him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. “Only a day to go, Sho-chan. You’re not alone, okay? I’m here.”

“I know,” Sho says, and he feels immensely grateful.

(4/5)

Comments

[yuuki-73.livejournal.com]

oooohhhh!!!! The angst!!!!!!