Freedom of Self

Chapter 8

The whole ride home, Arata kept his phone clenched in his left hand, the right one on the railing as the train car rocked gently. Everyone on the train car shared the same dejected look as they headed home, fatigued from work. Drained, he heaved a sigh. The young man had forgotten how exhausting it was to be on his feet all day and crack polite smiles.

Arata was used to interacting with many types of people and tried to not bat an eye when he had troublesome customers, be it pretentious eaters that always had something to complain about, dismissive salary men that didn't have the courtesy to spare him a glance or groups of unruly teenagers.

However, today felt particularly unpleasant. Arata had his patience tested on multiple occasions, doing his best to conceal his annoyance as he served such patrons steaming hot food while his own stomach growled in hunger.

Checking his phone, his thoughts drifted to the brown-haired designer whose charm had ensnared him for the past few weeks. In his mind, Matsushita-san was always smiling, always looking forward, always kind, always thoughtful and gentle. His words, his touch, his arms, his eyes, his back, everything.... so, so warm and painfully gentle. His character, his selflessness, his grace and the way he brightened everyone's mood; the young man admired everything about him.

Arata was convinced the man was everything he wasn't. It was a bittersweet realization, all the more ironic since their paths crossed incessantly. The more he saw him, the greater the joy and yet, the tighter the poisonous vines of insecurity and shame tightening around him.

# # #

As if Matsushita-san had known, his call made the young man's phone vibrate quietly just as he exited Asagaya Station, in the Suginami ward. Seeing the other man's name pop up on the screen, Arata slid the answer icon to the right and put the device to his ear:

"Good evening, Matsushita-san." he greeted rather nervously and was welcomed with an all too familiar chuckle from the other end.

"Hello, Wakahisa-san. Am I disturbing you?" the other man courteously asked.

"No, I'm walking home. I got off the train just a few minutes ago."

"It's pretty late, you worked hard today." the man sympathized, a spoon clinking loudly against the walls of a cup in the background.

Is he brewing tea?, Arata found himself smiling slightly as he stopped at a red light.

"The same to you." he replied, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"I called to thank you for today."

"It's nothing, it should be me thanking you for everything. Ah, I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable... me stopping by your workplace." the young man awkwardly apologized, his pale hands gripping the phone tighter as he crossed the street.

"No, no, it surprised me but I was glad." Matsushita-san's tender words reached his ears like a caress. "I've never received gifts at work so I was quite confused until I heard your name."

Arata frowned in disapproval as the noise of the main street threatened to drown out the other man's words and quickened his pace to his flat. He wanted to hear Matsushita-san just a bit longer.

"Well, what I mean is that I was happy to get it." he continued in a light chuckle. "Ah, since we are talking about that...I only opened the mochi just now, they're delicious."

"Eh, really?" Arata exclaimed, his smile widening. "Ahh, it's a relief you like them. I was worried you weren't that much into them. When I was little, there was a mochi shop just down the street from where we lived so I grew up eating them all year round."