What? Juni says bitterly into the phone when he answers.

You’re alive! Aiki exclaims.

The fuck is your problem? Of course I’m alive. Unfortunately, he mumbles the last bit, but of course, Aiki hears him.

Hey…it’s very fortunate you’re alive. Say, why weren’t you answering my calls and texts? I thought something happened. Aiki says.

We’re strangers. Shouldn’t have given you my number. Juni grumbles.

I’m telling you, Mr. Sato, there’s ought to be a reason—Aiki begins but Juni shuts him down:

There is no reason why we met. It’s pure coincidence. Leave it at that and leave me alone. I’ll block you, Juni threatens the other man, but the other man is unfazed.

Please, Mr. Sato, I’m begging you. Let me help you. Aiki begs.

You’re not a fucking angel nor a saint nor a god. Stop it. Staaaahp it. Juni says, drawing out the word ‘stop’.

Sir—

Enough with the fucking formalities, kid—

Then stop calling me a kid! Aiki snaps. He sounds angry. Or, at least, on the verge of being angry. This fascinates Juni. He wonders if he can actually cause the other man to blow up. Maybe that’ll spice things up.

Maybe I keep on calling you kid because of the formalities, Juni says.

Well, maybe I keep on using formalities because you keep on calling me a kid! Aiki growls. Juni hears Aiki mutter something—Korean, is it?—and when Aiki speaks, his voice is magically calm, almost as if nothing happened. Please…Juni. Let me make it up to you. That was childish of me what I did a week ago. Let me make it up. How ‘bout a walk in the park. You know, to talk?

Why do you keep on trying? Juni asks.

Aiki is quiet. A bit too quiet. Juni waits but Aiki says nothing.

You there? Juni asks.

Oh. Yes. Aiki says. Sorry. He sounds…distant. Um. I try because I want to be a good person. His voice is weak; something is bothering him but Juni doesn't know what.

There has to be a better reason than that. Juni can’t help but add. Aiki doesn’t say anything. Again. Hello? You there? He presses.

When Aiki speaks, his voice is pleading: Please, Juni. I want us to talk. Please. I swear…I swear there’s a reason why our paths crossed. You don’t get it—

Of course I don’t get it, Juni snaps, peeved. Look, Aiki, I just want you to stop calling me. If you dare call me again, I’ll fucking call the cops on you.

Give me a month. Aiki says.

A-a month? Juni sputters. Of what?

Give me a month to convince you. Aiki begs. His voice is so near-whiny that it pisses Juni off. The younger man has never heard a no in his life before. There’s no way someone would be so persistent like this. Unless he was an idiot. That probably was the case.

A month…to convince me? Really? scoffs Juni. This is fucking stupid—

Aiki interrupts him sharply: Two weeks.

Two weeks? Juni echoes.

Yes. Give me two weeks. That’s all I’m asking for. If I can’t convince you…I’ll…I’ll stop contacting you. Aiki says.

Juni doesn’t know why he gives this a thought. He should say no. Really, why was this man bothering him nonstop? They are strangers. Nobodies. Their paths happen to cross that night when Aiki found Juni trying to

 [drown himself]

go into the water

 [fucking lies]

he keeps on telling himself because he wants to believe that he isn’t

 [suicidal. no, not like this—]

Deal. Juni manages to say and Aiki squeals—what is he, five? He fights the urge to roll his eyes—no, he actually does roll his eyes in the end—and sighs.

Aiki is saying something but Juni doesn’t know what. His head is hurting. He can’t even remember if he ate last night. What did he eat last night? Was it…pizza? No…no, that was four days ago. Maybe.

…tomorrow, okay? Aiki says, startling Juni.

Tomorrow? He echoes. For what?

I’ll see you tomorrow. Aiki’s voice is firm, a conclusion. Juni doesn’t like that.

You can’t decide when we meet or not, Juni growls at him.

Lemme buy you dinner tonight then. Aiki says.

No.

Yes.

I said no. No means no. Shut the fuck up. I’m hanging up. He does hang up on Aiki.

Aiki doesn't ring him again. Instead, he texts him:

Give me your address. I’ll be there. Now. Or I’ll track you down. And I know how to do that.

So the kid was gonna threaten him now? What is this? Should he really call the police or not? He doesn’t answer him because fuck him, stop butting into his life. He’s annoyed—no, more than annoyed, he’s aggravated.

He texts him back later that night around 2 am. He gives him his address. Why? He doesn’t know why. There is no why.

Maybe he’s lonely.

♡♡♡

Aiki shows up an hour later holding two large plastic bags full of groceries. His hair is wet—was it raining?—and he’s breathing hard. He uses the back of his hand to wipe away the rain droplets that drip down his forehead. He looks at Juni with his amber eyes and when he speaks, his voice is stiff:

I want to use your kitchen. It’s not even a question, just a statement. No, more than a statement, more so a command. A demand.

Not wanting to argue with the younger man, Juni points to his kitchen. It’s small, so to call it a kitchen feels wrong. A kitchenette, perhaps.

Aiki stares at the kitchenette, expression blank with shock. He sets the bags on the floor and sighs heavily into his hands. He pops open the mini refrigerator—there’s two apples, four cans of beer, and an ice pack. Aiki looks at Juni, a look of distress evident on his face. He moves to a cabinet and opens it. There are packs of ramen and microwavable food in the cabinet. Aiki gathers the food and dumps it on the floor.

Hey! Juni protests, stepping forward but Aiki holds his hand up, stopping him.

Go sit down. I’m serious. No wonder you look terrible. You call this food? This is rubbish! You’re making yourself sick! Sit! Sit down! Now! Aiki sputters, waving his hands in a shoo-ing motion.

Juni sits on the stool and watches Aiki get to work.

Aiki is muttering in Korean as he unbags the groceries, pulling out a variety of vegetables which he sets down in the sink, presumably to wash. He removes his sweater and ties it around his waist. He’s wearing a tank top. It looks nice on his body.

 [wait, what—]

Juni focuses his attention on a bag of anchovies. He picks it up and looks at the words on the back. It’s in Korean.

Hey, Aiki? Juni says, and Aiki, without glancing up from washing the vegetables, says, Yeah?

Are you Korean? Juni asks, and Aiki pauses, looking at him.

Yeah, why?

You don’t look Korean. Juni says. Aiki is expressionless. He doesn’t know if he offended him or not.

Yeah, many people say that. It’s because of my eyes. They’re real—not contacts. I got them from my mom. My mom’s half-Korean, half-white. My dad’s Korean. So, I’m like seventy-five percent Korean. He sets the green onions on a chopping board and cuts them. You’re Japanese, right?

I…yes. Yes, I am Japanese. Juni says, startled.

I’ve always wanted to go to Japan, Aiki says wistfully. But doing criminology and taking care of Koda is tough. I plan on going after I graduate. Take a visit. I’ve always wanted to go with a partner, though. He scoffs. But whatever.

I could take you. Juni says, and Aiki stares at him with wide eyes.

You’re joking. Aiki says.

I’m not. Juni stands up from the stool and goes to Aiki. I’m serious. I visit there often. I know my way around. I speak Japanese fluently. I don’t mind.

I thought you hated me. Aiki mumbles as he begins to plate the food.

Juni gives a short shrug. I don’t hate you, per se, more so…find you annoying. Like. A lot. You’re annoying. He states.

Aiki is quiet. Too quiet. Juni wonders if he offended him. Maybe he did.

I hope you like the food, Aiki says as he sets the soup down in front of Juni. I tried. Don’t expect much.

Juni stares at the food. Tofu, green onion, soybean paste…miso? He grabs the spoon and sips the soup. Miso. It’s good. Really good. He eats the food way too fast that he ends up choking, startling Aiki. Juni clears his throat and looks at him. Um. Thanks. The…the food’s good.

Aiki has a faint smile. Good to know. He watches him. Juni notes that Aiki doesn’t have a bowl of soup.

You’re not hungry? Juni asks him.

Already ate. Aiki says. He looks around the apartment. A curious expression is on his face; no judgment. Genuine curiosity.

After Juni finishes eating, Aiki takes the bowl and sets it in the sink which he washes. When he’s done washing the bowl, he looks at Juni.

Well…I suppose I’ll go now. Aiki says.

No. Juni says.

No? echoes Aiki.

Maybe he is really lonely. Or desperate. Something. He doesn’t want him to leave, but he doesn’t know why. A friend, perhaps? No, not a friend. Companion? Buddy? Acquaintance?

Why can’t I go? Aiki asks, eyebrow raised.

Can you stay for the night? Juni wonders.

Aiki gives a short nod. That’s it. No confirmation or rejection. Just a nod.

And that’s all that Juni could ask for.

Just a nod.