Not long after that, we reached my place, a small house at the end of the block in an old neighborhood where there were a lot of trees but not many streetlights. I was only renting the basement, and my landlady lived above me. Sugita insisted that living like a refugee must be a contributing factor in how ostensibly unhappy I was, but, always, dragging myself back to my quiet refuge after a long, demoralizing case, taking a bath or playing video games relaxed me enough to be able to do it all over again the next day.

Yeah, I wanted a nice place all to myself, eventually, but for now, the freedom and security of just having a place to call home sufficed, and I could keep going.

On this chilly night, with mist hanging in the air, and rain still dripping from the trees and gutters, even the sight of home didn’t comfort me. I just felt lightheaded, my heart strangled by the vice that had once been my chest, and my stomach wouldn’t settle down. I didn’t want to go down into the dark and let the silence sock me in. The next time I saw daylight, I might hate it. The thought of sleep scared me; I didn’t know who I’d be when I woke up.

Carefully, I stepped out of the car, not wanting him to see how off-balance I was. “Thanks for the ride. See you later.”

Sugita got out too and studied me over the top of the car. “I thought I’d stay here tonight.”

“There’s nowhere for you to sleep,” I reminded him.

“I don’t mind the floor.”

“What’s the point? Everything’s okay right now.”

Immediately, some outrage darkened his brow. “Everything is not okay. Why would you even say that?”

“I just mean staying here won’t make any difference.”

His frown deepened. “Handa. Come on. If you want me to stay, I will.”

Having Ken nearby would dispel the silence. I could stay awake all night, confessing my deepest fears to him. After he fell asleep, I’d have the comfort of his deep, gentle breathing.

Sugita used to crash with me all the time, but since he’d gotten married, he hadn’t at all. This would be a good excuse to keep him with me twenty-four-seven; he’d probably even tell Kozakura to suck it up when she complained.

I’d already promised myself I wouldn’t do anything to compromise his happiness or damage the life he was trying to build for himself, and I'd already messed that up the night I'd ruined his bachelor party. I'd made everything worse by refusing to address that. I had to draw a line and at least try to keep all my shit from leaking over into his life.

Earnestly, Ken watched me, expecting me to realize that having his emotional support now was what I needed.

Maybe I even deserved his company.

But why should I take away from his comfort just to ensure mine?

“You’re supposed to have curry with Kozakura-chan, remember?”

At that, he looked torn. “You, too. Remember?”

“I just want to sleep.”

“All right,” he relented, quietly. “You’ll be okay by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine.” I tried to smile for him. “Go home and get some sleep. Don’t beat yourself up.”

A touch of sadness creased his brow. “Call me if you need me.”

I nodded, even though, if I did that he’d never be allowed to leave my side. “See you.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he assured me, reluctantly getting into his car.

I stood on the curb until he was out of sight, and then I stumbled through the gate, around the house, to the basement door. My landlady Mine-san was old and went to bed early, but I still didn’t want to risk running into her.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

My cousin, Haru, had always warned me that shutting people out would eventually become a habit, encouraging me to trust others and give them a chance if only so I didn’t wind up completely alone.

Even now, she’d tell me it wasn’t too late, and she’d urge me to call Ken and ask him to come back and stay with me because it was what I really wanted.

I all but heard her gentle voice whispering, “You need things from people just like everyone else, Hideki.”

As always, when it came to Ken, I had to draw a distinct line between what I wanted and what I got to have.

Inside, I pulled my shoes off and then stood a few moments on the welcome mat, looking around the basement, thinking about this morning and what a clusterfuck it had been. I’d had a sex dream about my partner and slept through my alarm, and then I’d had to scramble out of the house to catch a ride with him. We’d bickered the whole way to the gym, and then in the locker room as well. We’d bickered our way over to the Starbucks, and we’d still been bickering when we’d walked into the squad room almost two hours later.

I didn’t remember the particulars now, just that he wanted to talk about our relationship, and I wouldn’t give him the opportunity.

Maybe I should have.

What is there to say? I thought, picking my way to the bathroom. Sugita had gotten married, and he was straight. I never should have told him my real feelings. It would be better if he forgot the whole thing, he was just having a hard time believing that because he really thought he could find a magic fix for everything.

In the bathroom, I stared into the mirror. Yamada said the changes had started the moment Ken finished healing me, but those were still my crisp, gray eyes, and that was still my hooked nose—I wouldn’t mind if all of that changed. My full lips had always been my charmpoint, pink and cute. When I opened my mouth, my teeth appeared to be the right size and shape.

Maybe nothing would happen. Maybe there’d been some mistake. Maybe I was just having a dream. I’d even take a break with reality over the dismal prospect of steadily being transfigured into evil incarnate.

What a step in the wrong direction. I’d wanted to be a cop for as long as I could remember, and for most of my childhood, that had been an unnecessarily difficult, uphill battle against my family, because my father had other plans for me, he hadn’t believed I was cut out to be a criminal detective, and he’d encouraged my brothers to bully me. Even during my most innocent days of elementary school, Kouki and Naoyuki had made fun of me for being a slut and liking boys, and over time, I had become a slut, sleeping with all the women I could just to show everyone I liked pussy too.

My parents had stood off to the side, not seeming to care, relieved that I’d show any interest in women. Mom hadn’t had enough strength to speak up for me; Dad had believed the bullying would make me a man.

All it had ever accomplished was to roughen up the kind person I’d been born as and turn me into this asshole who couldn’t so much as ask a trusted friend for help.

Meanwhile, all that extra drama had been a huge distraction from school. When I should have been studying up on law and focusing on training, I’d been busy trying to get laid, getting into fights, finding enough trouble that my teachers had probably all thought I was on my way to becoming a criminal rather than a police officer. Holding all my classmates at arm’s length had resulted in isolation and frustration. After graduating high school, I’d been desperate enough to let a truly messed up guy into my life. I hadn’t been in shape—physically or mentally—for the academy, and I’d barely gotten through.

I had, though. And becoming a cop, making detective was supposed to fix everything. Cops were strong. Trained to fight. Armed. Discerning. Level. They helped people. Bad things didn’t happen to them.

I flicked off the bathroom light and wandered into the small kitchenette I’d set up in the corner of the basement, digging around until I found a half-full bottle of cheap whiskey.

Swigging straight from the bottle, I ambled back over to the couch and dropped heavily onto it. With my spinning head rested on the arm, I stared at the ceiling, and remembered what an unwelcome sight it had been this morning, after that wonderful dream.

Meeting Sugita had helped my emotional state immensely. For the first time, someone I liked seemed to like me back, even if it wasn’t the same way. Having his consideration and respect had made me realize I could do a lot better than the possessive ex-boyfriend I’d just gotten away from, and that I’d rather chase the impossible dream of Sugita Kenichiro for the rest of my life than let a scum bag treat me like his property.

Some little part of me had healed after he stumbled across my porn account and still wanted to be my partner and my friend. I’d given into the feeling that I could trust him. In my mind, he’d planted a seed of hope, insisting that I really could just be me, without hiding anything, assuring me that the people who loved me would stay, and the people who left weren’t worth a damn. I found that hard to imagine, but the fact that he believed it had made me want to believe it too.

Falling in love with him, though, was hard. Every day, I had to watch him be perfect, suffer through his overbearing worries and his embarrassing kindness, trying to let those feelings heal me without getting swallowed by the realization that I would give up anything just to call him mine. He didn’t even know. He didn’t know how tightly I was wrapped around his finger, or how much it hurt, how every day was a struggle between living with him out of reach and leaving just to isolate the pain.

Even after the bachelor party incident, he couldn’t grasp how deep that wound ran. Unless I told him, he’d never know that being friends with him was the best part of my life, and falling in love with him was the worst.

Now, in a few days, none of that hope or agony would matter.