The Winter Quarters

by Anna Veriani

  “He can’t talk to you like that,” Hiro said softly, rubbing the back of Kai’s neck. “You’re all tense, Kai. This is why you get migraines.”

  “I am an idiot. The Big D is basically my business partner. What kind of adult goes on a vacation and neglects to tell his business partner?”

  The kind who’s fleeing his asshole fake boyfriend, Hiro thought, but he didn’t want to upset Kai any more.

  “I can’t let you agree with him,” he murmured.

  “It’s true—”

  Hiro reached around and put a finger against Kai’s lips, silencing him. Kai wasn’t like this; he wasn’t the sort of person to put himself, or anyone, down. He had confidence. But right now he seemed… deflated, and Hiro hated it. He still wasn’t over Duffy cursing at Kai. Who even did that? Beyond just being rude, it was weird. And no one was allowed to talk to Kai like that.

  “You’re not responding to him,” Hiro said.

  “But if I don’t, he’ll call me,” Kai said. “He never lets me go when I’m avoiding him.”

  Yeah, that was not okay.

  “Close your eyes,” Hiro said. “I’m responding to your boyfriend.”

  “God, please don’t call him that.” Kai must have felt truly desperate, though, because he didn’t protest. He shifted around, pressing his forehead against Hiro’s chest. Hiro dragged Kai’s laptop toward himself and clicked Reply.

  “Are you going to get me into trouble?” Kai asked.

  “No. Duffy’s the one in trouble.”

  Kai grinned. “You realize you can’t hurt him, right? He’s on the other side of the world.”

  “Lucky for him,” Hiro said through gritted teeth. “If I ever see him, I’m giving him a black eye.”

  “You sound like my protective older brother.”

  “I’m not your brother.” Hiro began to type.

  Dear Mr. Duffy,

  Thank you for reaching out. Your concern for Mr. Ledging is appreciated. I assure you that he’s quite all right. Should you be tempted to contact him again in the near future, I kindly recommend the following alternative: Go fuck yourself.

  Yours truly,

  Hiro

  Hiro permanently deleted the email before rubbing Kai’s back. “I replied.”

  “Wait. You hit Send?” Kai groaned. “What did you say? I thought you’d let me read it first.”

  “I signed it in my name,” Hiro said soothingly. “He can’t blame you for it.”

  “If he finds out who you are, he’ll go after you,” Kai said. “He destroys people, Hiro. Ends careers.”

  Hiro snorted. “What will he do? Leak my dirty laundry to the gossip columns? I’m not famous, remember?”

  Kai blinked, looking up at him in startled realization.

  “Kai, did you forget?”

  “No!” Kai said defensively. It was so cute when his voice went high-pitched.

  “You did! You forgot I wasn’t one of your famous friends. This is going on your list, Kai. Your embarrassing weird-things-Kai’s-said-as-a-celebrity list.”

  “You’re more charismatic than them,” Kai said defensively. “At dinner the other night… all of the guests wanted to talk to you. Almost like what you said didn’t matter, they were just… enraptured with you. That’s charisma. I know that because that’s what my mom is like. And even the Big D. Even if he’s being an outrageous asshole, everyone is still fascinated.”

  “People definitely cared about what I was saying,” Hiro objected. “I’m completely hilarious.”

  He expected Kai to roll his eyes, but Kai was looking at him strangely, his freckled cheeks lightly flushed. Was he… blushing?

  Hiro resisted tracing Kai’s cheeks with his finger. He searched for a distraction. “Are there any less infuriating emails you need to respond to?”

  “A few dozen.” Kai leaned forward, and Hiro immediately missed the heat of him. “Do you mind… staying with me?”

  His tone of voice made Hiro’s chest ache. He sounded lonely. Hiro remembered being in the car, when Kai couldn’t directly answer the question of whether he was happy.

  He reached for Kai’s neck, rubbing the pads of his thumbs against the knots he found there. “Someone has to stop your migraines.”

  Kai let out a noise like a rumbling purr. He arched his back, and Hiro almost stopped, awed by how beautiful he was. Just the geometry of his back was tantalizing.

  This seemed dangerous—if not for Kai, then for Hiro, the one who would be left behind in a short amount of time. Was there anything platonic about the way they were touching? Hiro’s male friends might be happy to playfully punch him or give him a one-armed hug or something, but he didn’t think any of them would be open to this, their extended not-quite-cuddling.

  Maybe it didn’t need to be examined, though. Kai was tense and worried, Hiro’s thumbs were clearly making a difference, and touching him was easy. Kai wasn’t interested in Hiro in the way Hiro was in him; as long as Hiro remembered to be a big boy and not get his heart crushed, then touching Kai was fine.

  After another ten minutes Kai closed his laptop. “Done.”

  He leaned against Hiro like Hiro was an armchair. His head hung back, exposing his bare throat. If Hiro leaned down just an inch, he’d be kissing it.

  He imagined that; sucking and nibbling on Kai’s unblemished pale skin. Would Kai shove him away? Or could Hiro make him feel good? His cock hardened alarmingly quickly at the thought, and he slid back, clearing his throat. Kai didn’t seem to notice his alarm.

  “Work stuff is surprisingly easy when there’s someone massaging my neck the whole time.” Kai got up and put his laptop in its case, oblivious.

  Hiro pulled the kotatsu blanket safely up to his waist. “You’ve been working literally all day. If I didn’t know better, I’d call you an Asada.” He cringed, immediately remembering Kai in his kimono. He’s not your husband.

  For some reason Kai grinned. “Are you impressed?”

  “Disappointed,” Hiro said. “I’m not being a good host if you have to work.”

  Kai shook his head. “I wanted to. Obaachan said….” He looked away. “Maybe if your mom saw a male tea server, she’d be less freaked out by the idea of you getting married to a man.”

  Hiro stared at him. “That’s why you did that today?”

  His hard-on wasn’t disappearing anytime soon. Kai had wanted to look like his husband. Hiro’s whole body ached with desire, just like that.

  That wasn’t what Kai was saying, though, was it? He’d just been doing something nice. Something thoughtful and kind, and fuck, Kai Asada, Kai Asada, Kai Asada. Why did those words rock deliciously through Hiro like something filthy?

  “Yeah.” Kai looked sheepish, as if he were ashamed of being the most thoughtful friend Hiro had ever had. “Like I said before: I really am sorry if it pissed you off. I didn’t mean to invade your territory.”

  Guilt wrenched at Hiro as he remembered skirting past Kai in the inn lobby earlier. Was that how Kai had interpreted it?

  “You looked pretty good,” Hiro said as lightly as he could, swallowing. “Probably fooled some guests into thinking you were handsome enough to actually be my husband.”

  “Yes,” said Kai. “Several guests specifically informed me they thought I was in your league.”

  They made eye contact, and Hiro felt the tension melt away.

  “Onsen time?” Kai asked.

  “Onsen time,” he agreed.

  “My body wants to forget it was ever in a kimono,” Kai said, unselfconsciously pulling his sweater over his head before he even reached the shower room. Hiro lowered his eyes. Thirty-three days, he reminded himself. Then they’d be back to Skype calls and texts, and Kai would be busy attracting the attention of his literal millions of admirers. Thousands of miles away and quite literally out of Hiro’s league.

  Chapter Six

  KAI awoke to the sound of rustling above him. He stirred, blinked, still half in the dream world. It was dark outside, but s
omeone was tinkering around the room. Had someone broken in? An obsessed fan? It wouldn’t be the first time, and at least Hiro was here to protect him.

  The thought roused him, and he realized Hiro was humming, chipper and wide-awake.

  “What time is it?” Kai said groggily. He pushed himself up on his elbows and saw Hiro, shirtless, zipping up his jeans.

  “Almost six,” said Hiro. “I should have told you that I have to leave early today.”

  Kai woke up fully, alarmed. Hiro would be gone almost the whole day—again.

  “It’s not ideal,” Hiro said, “but I can’t ignore work completely. There’s stuff I have to do every day.”

  “Of course,” Kai said quickly. He pushed himself off his futon, feeling oddly vulnerable with Hiro standing over him, buttoning his shirt, clean-shaven and alert while Kai could have fallen back asleep in seconds. “Is there any way I can help?”

  “You really don’t have to, Kai.” Hiro looked so damn sharp, smoothing out his tucked-in shirt. It physically hurt to watch him. “You’re on vacation.”

  Hiro retrieved a leather belt and looped it through his jeans, emphasizing his slim hips and his quick, adept hands. Perhaps because he was caught off guard, Kai simply sat there and wanted Hiro, wholly and enormously. His cuffs were unbuttoned, and Kai could glimpse the jutting bone of Hiro’s wrist, the black hair of his forearms.

  “Let me be with you,” he blurted. Cleared his throat. “I mean, I can go with you. Help—with anything. Whatever it is.”

  If Hiro spent every day working, then it was like Kai’s trip might as well be cut in half. They’d have so little time together before they were half a world apart again.

  “Okay.” Hiro shrugged. “If that’s what you want. Dress quickly. I have to drive all the way to Noto.”

  “What for?” The northern peninsula of Ishikawa Prefecture was probably three hours away.

  “Picking up the famous Tokuda rice.” Hiro shook his head. “Famous according to my grandmother, at least. When my father put me in charge of the inn’s budget last year, I tried to redirect our rice funds to a farm nearer to us, but Obaachan insisted.”

  “Must be pretty good.”

  “Only the best.” Hiro winked at him before disappearing into the bathroom, and it seemed amazing that he was oblivious to the strange matinal awakening of Kai’s libido. Even his stupid wink left Kai’s heart hammering, his memory replaying the gesture in his head as he heard the sink running from behind the closed door.

  Kai got up and dressed quickly. As he properly shook off his sleepy state, he burned with embarrassment. Let me be with you. He sounded like a puppy dog begging for Hiro to let Kai follow him around.

  Kai was still getting dressed when Hiro emerged again, obviously ready to go.

  “That was fast.” Kai’s cheeks heated up. “I, uh—I think my brain is still jumbled from the jet lag or something. I don’t really know what I’m saying half the time. You should go without me since you’re already—”

  Hiro strode across the room and hugged him. The embrace was hard and tight, like being held by a bear, and for a moment Kai couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to stay like that forever, stuck between Hiro’s magnificent chest and his magnificent arms.

  “You’re my best friend in the whole world,” Hiro said.

  Kai laughed.

  “Stop. I’m serious. You’re my favorite person on the entire fucking planet, Kai. Are you really going to stand here and act embarrassed that we want to hang out together?” Hiro stepped back. “I was only going to work on my own because I didn’t want you to be stressed. I have a feeling you’re stressed out enough back home.”

  “Please don’t call New York ‘home,’” Kai groaned. He looked down, his toes almost touching Hiro’s. “I’m never stressed when I’m around you. I normally get migraines when I check my email, but last night it wasn’t hard at all.”

  He expected Hiro to make some joke about that, but Hiro just nodded seriously and said, “Okay. Then it’s decided. We’ll drive to Noto together.”

  THE pickup truck’s leather seats smelled like tobacco from back when Hiro’s father used to make the rice runs up to Noto. The radio was playing some Top 40 American pop song; Kai immediately changed the station.

  “Don’t like that one?” Hiro asked.

  “It’s playing in every club in New York right now,” Kai said, as if that were reason enough to hate it. Hiro had gotten chills when Kai said “don’t call New York ‘home’” earlier. He wondered how deeply Kai meant that.

  “There’s a restaurant I like up north,” Hiro said. “Can you dial their number and tell them we’re coming? Their hours are completely unpredictable. If they’re open, we’ll stop there before we pick up the rice.”

  Kai hesitated. “You’re going to call me a dick, but what would the odds be of me getting recognized at this restaurant?”

  Did Kai just have constant anxiety about going anywhere all the time? No wonder he was stressed. He fought the urge to put a comforting hand on Kai’s thigh before thinking fuck it and doing it anyway. He gave Kai a squeeze. “I don’t think you’re a dick. The place is a little shack run by an elderly couple who probably think they’re with the times because they just ditched their rotary phone for a push-button one.”

  Kai laughed. “So pretty much zero odds, then. I can work with that.”

  Hiro gave him the number. They’d just driven through Kanazawa City, and now they were making their way through Uchinada, the little beach town where people liked to drive their Jeeps on the sand in the summer. The waves sparkled bright blue in the corner of his eye, somehow even looking cold.

  After Kai hung up, he reported back: “The owner said they close early today, but since we won’t get there before closing, they’ll stay open for us.”

  “Nice,” said Hiro.

  “Yeah. Normally you have to be, like, famous or something to get a restaurant to give you special hours,” said Kai.

  “Not normally, bighead.” Hiro elbowed him. “Just where you live. I’m adding that to your list.”

  They leaned back into a comfortable silence. Driving was always relaxing for Hiro, and all around them, as they entered the deep countryside, were mountains bursting with evergreens, and below them orange-striated cliffs that led to the ocean. Kai was looking out his window as if he needed to take in everything from every angle.

  “I forgot how beautiful Ishikawa is,” he said.

  “Upstate New York is nice too,” Hiro said, and cringed when he remembered Kai was going to leave him to spend time with the Big D in a log cabin up north.

  Predictably, Kai released a mumbled curse and crossed his arms.

  “Sorry.” He had that thigh-squeezing urge again. He definitely couldn’t keep doing that.

  He was about to put his left hand on the steering wheel and drive properly two-handed, but Kai took his hand and laid it in his own lap. Kai traced the sensitive skin between his knuckles, and Hiro could hardly breathe.

  “Why did you get so buff?” Kai asked.

  Hiro snorted.

  “I’m serious,” Kai said. “You don’t just wake up one day looking like… like that.”

  It was true. Hiro had invested steadily in weights for himself, spending years drinking down protein powder, reading about nutrition and physiology and tracking his progress.

  “My dad struggles with a lot of stuff every day,” Hiro said. “It wasn’t always hard for him, but as he’s gotten older, some of the physical labor has worn him down. I figured I’d be in a better place if I was as fit as I could be.”

  “That’s smart.”

  “Pretty genius, yeah.”

  Kai was still tracing his skin; Hiro doubted he had any idea how good it felt.

  “Why doesn’t your dad just retire if it’s so hard for him?”

  “Oh, he wants to.” He conveniently reminded Hiro almost daily, as if Hiro was somehow going to forget.

  “So why doesn’t he
?”

  “Needs his gay son to get married first.” Hiro couldn’t conceal the bitterness in his voice. “I need to get married. I want to marry a man. They want me to get married. They want me to marry a woman. It keeps going around in circles, but while we all deliberate, my dad gets older and running the inn gets harder for him.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kai said softly.

  “I’m being selfish,” Hiro said. “Putting too much blame on my parents. Obaachan keeps saying that if they could just meet the man I want to marry, they’d learn to accept him.”

  “But you inconveniently don’t have a fiancé,” Kai said.

  “Nailed it.” Hiro frowned. “I hate talking about this stuff. Tell me why you’re so skinny.”

  “I’m not skinny! I am androgynously slim,” Kai said. “And I am androgynously slim because one, baby, I was born this way. And two, someone behind the scenes of Kimi and Kai decided that the audience would like me best if I looked like I lived off carrot sticks and celery. So now I live off carrot sticks and celery.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “About which part?”

  Hiro crinkled his nose. “Kind of all of it. Isn’t that sort of weird for an American male celebrity? Don’t Americans like famous dudes to have eight-packs or something?”

  “Apparently not if you’re a gay East Asian and you’re dating a white guy. Then your PR manager decides to market it as this yellow fever Asian fetishist thing, I think.” Kai shrugged. “I don’t really focus on the politics. I focus on the carrot sticks.”

  “Please tell me you’re eating enough back”—he almost said home again—“back there.”

  “I give myself a cheat day,” Kai confessed. “But that was definitely a self-granted thing.”

  Hiro laughed. “What’s a cheat day for you?”

  “You remember those cooking nights in college when we’d make dinner for half the people on our floor?” Those were good times, back when Kai could walk down a grocery aisle without getting harassed.