Wish Fulfillment

by berrystained

Summary:

Hira has to admit that Kiyoi has a point--it's not fair that he has hundreds of photos of Kiyoi while Kiyoi has none of him. He reluctantly agrees to let Kiyoi photograph him despite his anxiety. But Kiyoi has some ideas about how he might distract Hira from his anxiety and provoke some specific looks of Hira's that he'd like to capture.

Notes:

There are three parts. The first two are mostly pure fluff, while the third takes a turn into fluffy smut, or smutty fluff.

Despite some pretty huge narrative differences, Wish Fulfillment by Sonic Youth kept going through my head while writing this because of the photography aspect. The song is a lot more melancholy, but also hints at some themes around image and authenticity that really are—potentially at least—lying in wait for these characters, just not in this piece. And it seemed like there was enough actual wish fulfillment here to warrant borrowing the title.

Chapter 1

Hira was sitting at the table doing his history reading when Kiyoi walked in, sat across from him, and just…waited. That was weird. Usually if Kiyoi wanted Hira’s attention he would just walk up and start talking to him, or call out from the other room. Lately he had started appearing behind Hira and giving him a back-hug out of the blue. That was Hira’s favorite. Well, unless you counted Kiyoi’s various ways of putting the moves on him, most of which involved nothing more than a meaningful glance, a head-tilt, or showing some tiny amount of skin–generally, anything besides making a direct proposition or touching Hira first. Though the night before, Kiyoi had just walked up to Hira as he was sitting in the rocking chair, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him into the bedroom. Naturally, Hira had offered no resistance. 

 

So what was this? It couldn’t be that Kiyoi was being patient, Hira thought. He was starting to get concerned. 

 

“I have…a request,” Kiyoi said in an suspiciously gentle voice. “Uh, when you’re at a stopping point or whatever.” A stopping point? Now Hira was actually starting to worry. He wasn’t going to be able to concentrate on studying if he was wondering what this was about. Not that he would have kept Kiyoi waiting anyway. He marked his place with a stray bit of paper and closed his book. 

 

“I’m ready.” 

 

“Um, it’s sort of about…using your camera.”

 

Hira had run through a few possibilities in his head, but this was definitely not one of them. “Eh?”

 

“You showed me a few things about how it works back in high school. I don’t remember that much, but I think I remember there being some kind of…mode? Or…setting? One that makes it so someone who doesn’t know anything about this stuff could take some decent pictures.”

 

“Do you need pictures taken for something? You know if you need anything like that, I’ll help you. Unless you…want to learn?” 

 

“Eh, not really. I mean, I think it might be good to know a little bit more, for my work and stuff. People photograph me a lot and it might be good to understand what they’re doing a little bit better. But mostly I just have this one thing I want to do.” Kiyoi paused. 

 

Hira’s mind was searching for possibilities again. Kiyoi was acting a bit shy, which was definitely out of character. He was averting his eyes, even fidgeting a little. Honestly, Kiyoi was acting a little bit like, well, Hira himself. This was seriously weird. 

 

“So, uh, you might not like this idea,” Kiyoi began, looking at his hands. “And I don’t want to pressure you. But it would, um, mean a lot to me, so maybe you could just…hear me out, and maybe…think about it?” 

 

Then Kiyoi looked back up at Hira’s face. He burst out laughing. 

 

“Oh no! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out. You look like you’re about to rupture a blood vessel!” he said. “It’s nothing too weird, I promise.” He paused. “And no, sorry if this is disappointing, but it’s not a sex thing.” 

 

Hira was decidedly not disappointed to hear that. If this hypothetical sex thing involving a camera could possibly include a camera being pointed at Hira, much less pointed at Hira in some kind of intimate setting, then any appeal it might have had otherwise would be completely outweighed by sheer terror. Pictures of Kiyoi would be another matter entirely, of course, but then, any photograph of Kiyoi was already the sexiest thing imaginable, no matter what he was doing, or wearing, or not wearing. 

 

“Hira,” Kiyoi began. He paused for a second and cleared his throat. More quietly this time, he began, “Kazunari…”

 

A shiver went from Hira’s feet to the top of his head. Kiyoi had never called him by his given name before. It was impossible to hide the complete paroxysm that passed over him in this moment. Glancing down, he could see the hair on his arms standing up. 

 

Kiyoi rolled his eyes, but he was smiling–a totally spontaneous and unguarded smile. For years, Hira had seen this type of smile only rarely, but recently, they were becoming a little more common. Kiyoi cleared his throat again, then locked eyes with Hira. He made an adorably forlorn face, pitched his voice right between vulnerable sweetness and coy seduction, and said softly, “Kazunari, please let me take some pictures of you.” 

 

Upon hearing this, Hira had a different sort of spasm. He froze and looked like he was trying to astrally project out of the room–anything to escape. Kiyoi didn’t seem surprised–more like he’d been bracing himself for this. 

 

“Listen,” he began in a soothing tone, “I know you hate having your picture taken. Really, really hate it. But before you answer, I just want to explain a little bit, OK?”

 

“Mm.” 

 

“I though I could make things as comfortable as possible for you. And maybe if it’s me photographing you and no one else is around, maybe that might help. I also want to explain to you why I want to, OK? Because I think it might help.” 

 

A nod. Hira was starting to breathe again, at least. 

 

“You’ve taken so many photos of me. Which is great! I love that it’s one of the first things we did together where we really bonded. Even now, it’s still really special. There’s also something different about the pictures you take of me. It’s like there’s a little bit of the way you see me that shows up in them. Or, I don't know, maybe I look at the camera differently when you’re the one behind it. Maybe both. Whatever the reason is, I like the photos you take of me better than any of the ones I’ve had taken for work. And speaking of work, in my line of work it’s seriously helpful to have a boyfriend with real photography skills. I’m really lucky.” 

 

Hira got a little tingly after hearing “boyfriend.”

 

“So, you have all of these pictures of me. Which is fine. But shouldn’t I have at least a few pictures of you? I think that’s supposed to be pretty standard when you’re in a relationship. Sometimes we have to be apart and it would be so great to have a picture of you I could look at during those times. And I bet someday when I’m old I’ll be really glad to have a picture of you, the way you are now.” 

 

The idea of Kiyoi wanting to have a picture of him when he was older would have moved Hira, had it not been practically unimaginable. 

 

“That’s the main thing,” Kiyoi continued. “But I had another thought too. I know you have a hard time seeing your own good qualities, especially when it comes to your appearance. I thought maybe, if I could take at least one picture that sort of showed you the way I see you—like the way your way of seeing me gets into your photos of me—it might help with that a little bit. And, uh, to be clear, the way I see you is, well, that I’m attracted to you. It can be a little bit hard for other people to see it sometimes. After all, you hide behind those long bangs and try to blend in with the walls everywhere you go. But I see you. And I think you’re actually pretty hot. Especially when you let your guard down enough to really be yourself.”

 

Hira was too stunned to reply. Kiyoi chuckled.

 

“You don’t have to agree with me about that part,” he said. “And, like, it’s your decision if you want to keep covering up half of your face with your hair and dressing like a 70-year-old so no one notices the rest of you. I’m not going to pressure you.” He paused, thinking. “OK, maybe I might end up pressuring you at some point, that sounds like something I would do. But I’m not doing it now. I just want to take your picture. And I know if I get greedy I could ruin my chances, so I’m not going to push it.” 

 

Kiyoi reached over and put his hand on Hira’s. “So…what do you think? Or, let’s start smaller…what about the camera part?”

 

“Well, uh, if my camera was on full auto you wouldn’t have to learn very much to use it. You’d want to do it in a place where you would have good light, at the right time of day. Outdoors would probably be easiest. Maybe during the golden hour, or in the afternoon if we could find someplace shady or diffuse the light a little bit. The camera still wouldn’t get results that were quite as good as what a knowledgeable human being could do, but with plenty of light there wouldn’t be that much of a difference. And it’d still be a lot better than what you’d get with a phone camera or something. I could help you figure out a plan. Show you the controls again. Stuff like that.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah. With the right conditions it could work after a pretty short explanation. Maybe a little practice beforehand, if you really wanted to be prepared.” 

 

“That sounds great. So, it sounds like that covers the camera part. But…what about my model?”

 

Hira started to turn red. “I…I could…try.”

 

“Really?” Kiyoi seemed genuinely delighted, as if he had really been expecting Hira to refuse. 

 

“You’re right. You should have some photos if you want them. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise,” Hira responded. He hadn’t thought about it that way before. He had piles of photos of Kiyoi he had printed and at least ten times more on backup drives. “If it was just you and me by ourselves that would probably help. I’ll think about if there’s anything else that might make it seem less scary. As far as doing something different with my appearance…that's a bit scarier. But maybe if there’s something…small?” 

 

“Maybe I could just…brush those bangs to the side a little bit.” 

 

“I…I could try that.” Hira gulped. 

 

“I just–I like being able to see your face. You could also let me pick an outfit for you from the clothes you already have. No new stuff required.”

 

“That doesn't sound so bad,” Hira said.  

 

“I do have one other idea that might help make you more comfortable.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Well, maybe I could take your mind off of it. I can be pretty distracting.” Kiyoi leaned closer and looked at Hira flirtatiously. 

 

Hira visibly started for a second before smiling tentatively. “That’s true. But I thought you said it wasn’t a sex thing.”

 

Kiyoi reached across the table and poked Hira in the ribs, hard. He grabbed his side and winced. “Ow!”

 

“So, when can we do it? Tomorrow?” When Kiyoi saw how big Hira’s eyes got in response to that, he backpedaled. “Or, uh, maybe for now we can just start by working on that plan. You could start showing me some camera stuff and I can practice a little, like you said. Just don’t put it off for too long. Please.” 

 

“I won’t.” 

 

“Good.”

 

“Kiyoi?”

 

“Yes?” 

 

“Say it again.” 

 

“Which thing?”

 

Hira looked down, too shy to say, but with that childlike, secretive smile of his. 

 

Kiyoi leaned closer again. “You’re my boyfriend,” he said in a sultry voice. 

 

A small shiver. 

 

He shifted his voice to be a little softer, a little huskier. “And I think you’re hot.”

 

A bigger one.  

 

Kiyoi always knew what would set Hira’s nerves on fire. He leaned closer, gazed at Hira through his eyelashes coquettishly, and whispered, “Kazunari.” 

 

This triggered an absolute tidal wave of chills. Once the biggest of these had passed, Hira leaned in closer to Kiyoi and looked into his eyes with that same fanatical look he had aimed at Kiyoi since the day they first met. They were only inches apart now. Kiyoi kept his eyes locked on Hira’s, his head tilted invitingly. 

 

“So…beautiful,” Hira breathed. 

 

He leaned closer and kissed Kiyoi. 

 

Kiyoi was already practicing his distraction technique. It was very effective. 

Chapter 2

Notes:

The amount of photography content goes up in this section and the next. I had a bit of background knowledge and looked some things up but there may be errors there. I hope if they're present, they don't make it difficult for more knowledgeable folks to enjoy the story.

For a few days after their initial conversation, Kiyoi didn’t bring up the idea of taking photos of Hira again. Hira began to hope that he’d just forgotten about the whole thing. But one evening, Kiyoi returned home from a modeling job while Hira was finishing dinner. He was unusually animated, like he was excited about something. 

 

When Hira had brought the food to the table and they were starting to eat, Kiyoi told him, “I was talking with Hagiwara at the shoot today—that’s Oshima’s assistant—and he gave me a bunch of advice about that, um, photo shoot we were talking about.” 

 

Hira swallowed hard. Not only had Kiyoi clearly not forgotten about his idea, he seemed pretty fired up about following through on it. 

 

“He’s been bugging me for a while to do a shoot with him so he can build his portfolio for his own photography business, and I said I’d do it in exchange for some help. We talked about what kind of light would work best for a total novice like me. He agreed with you about shooting outdoors. He had a lot of specific ideas about how I could make the light less harsh during the brighter part of the day, since the golden hour can pass by really quickly. He sent me a couple articles to look at. And he even said I could borrow some of his lighting stuff for the day, like a big diffuser and a couple of reflectors, maybe another small thing or two.”  

 

It sounded like Kiyoi was getting good advice. Hira was familiar with the strategies he’d mentioned, but since he never photographed human beings other than Kiyoi, and only shot him in very naturalistic ways, this person helping Kiyoi had some specific expertise Hira didn’t. 

 

But these details were making the photo shoot plan seem a lot more like a real thing that was going to happen, which made Hira nervous. He really did think it was only fair to Kiyoi for him to try, but it didn’t lessen his anxiety—it just made him feel more determined to try to weather it somehow. He still would have preferred to do almost anything else to make Kiyoi happy. If he could have avoided this by doing some other task that was physically challenging, annoyingly boring, or mentally taxing instead, he would have jumped at the chance. But that wasn’t an option. 

 

At the same time, seeing Kiyoi talk about something in this excited way was also starting to affect him. Hira knew that Kiyoi was very committed to his goals and worked hard to meet them. But he didn’t get to witness a lot of that work. Most of the preparation that went into Kiyoi’s work was either done away from home or happened in private. The things he typically did in Hira’s presence, like studying scripts, also didn’t make his efforts visible. 

 

Hira was attentive to the various things going on in Kiyoi’s professional life. But while he was always ready to soothe his boyfriend’s anxieties, console him when he was disappointed, and celebrate with him when things went well, he seldom saw Kiyoi in this sort of state of excited engagement about something. It was a side of him he’d never really seen. Hira always relished seeing any new side of Kiyoi. He wanted to memorize every expression, gesture, tone of voice, and movement Kiyoi was capable of. Every new aspect of him was something to savor and catalog for future contemplation. But more than that, it felt good to be participating in something that made Kiyoi come alive in this way. Hira decided to hold on to that feeling and focus on it. It wouldn’t make his anxiety go away, but it might help. 

 

“It sounds like you’re getting some really good advice. I don’t know a lot about that type of lighting stuff but it sounds like you’re on the right track.”

 

“I think so!” Kiyoi replied. “And it’s interesting. I see this stuff all the time on jobs but I never thought about how it works. I think the lighting part might be more relevant to what I do at work than, like…f-stops or whatever. Maybe I’ll learn something I’d actually use in the future.” 

 

“Do you…want to practice using the camera?” Hira asked. “Though I don’t know how you could practice portrait type stuff unless you took even more photos of me.” His discomfort at this idea clearly showed on his face. 

 

“Oh, I already thought of that. Don’t worry, I’ll just need you to help with using the camera and stuff. You won’t have to be in front of the camera until I’m ready to take photos for real. Could we meet by the university one day this week after your classes?” 

 

“Sure.” 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

A few days later, Kiyoi met Hira outside his last class. It was still mid-afternoon. They sat down on a bench for a moment. Hira didn’t know what to expect. 

 

“Kiyoi? Um, how are you going to find people to photograph here?” 

 

“Oh, you’ll find out in a second. Is the camera ready to go?”

 

“Mm. It’s all ready to shoot, with the right settings,” Hira told him, pulling the camera out of his bag. He put the strap around Kiyoi’s neck and began pointing to different parts of the camera. “That’s the shutter button for when you’re ready to take a picture. You could use the viewfinder or the screen display to see what’s in the frame. I usually like the viewfinder better. Other than that, maybe just keep an eye on the light meter. You don’t have to do a lot with it, just make sure the light isn’t way too high or way too low. It’ll focus automatically, you just have to make sure it picks the right things to focus on. That’s most of the stuff you really need to know.” 

 

“Cool. Let’s start walking around.” 

 

“Uh, OK.” How was wandering around campus going to help Kiyoi practice taking pictures of individual people? 

 

Kiyoi walked toward the student center, which was bustling with people. His eyes darted around as if he was looking for the right spot. Then he went to stand in an area between the entrance walkway and an outdoor seating area with tables. It was right next to a lot of foot traffic without getting in anyone’s way. Hira would never stand around in a spot like this by himself—it was too visible. But he’d do it with Kiyoi without a moment’s hesitation. 

 

“Look busy,” Kiyoi told him. “I’m going to touch the camera like I’m doing stuff but I’m just faking it, so don’t worry about me messing up your settings or whatever. And we should probably be talking. What could we talk about…what’s for dinner tonight?” 

 

“I’m not sure, we’re out of a lot of stuff. We should probably go grocery shopping on our way home…Kiyoi, what are we doing here?”

 

“Give it a minute.”

 

Hira looked around in embarrassment, then noticed that something was already happening. Three girls sitting at a nearby table were talking in low voices and pointing at Kiyoi. In another direction, a girl was looking fixedly at Kiyoi…and right past the boy who was talking to her, who started looking behind him and looking seriously annoyed. Then Hira heard a voice near them whispering and turned to see two students that were handing out flyers about some kind of event had also stopped to stare. 

 

“That ought to do it, I think,” Kiyoi said. “Wait here until I motion you over.” He walked over to the table with the three girls, smiling, and started talking to them. Hira didn’t know what he was saying, but he was smiling the way he used to with Shirota and his gang in high school–a smile that was completely fake but so charming that most people wouldn’t realize it. The girls were already starting to smile back. 

 

When they headed home an hour later, Kiyoi had taken pictures of seventeen girls who all looked the same to Hira, a nonbinary kid with a nose ring, and one quiet but persistent twink who gave Hira the stink-eye. At one point, they had even formed a sort of queue. Kiyoi had told them all that he was taking portraits for a group assignment and that Hira was his more experienced classmate. Hira had forgotten what a good liar Kiyoi was. It was both impressive and a bit unnerving. Anyway, the main thing was that now Kiyoi was feeling a lot more comfortable with the camera.

“I think I might have had enough practice now. What do you think?” Kiyoi asked Hira. 

 

“Hm, yeah. I think you have the basics down pretty well,” Hira said. “Kiyoi…did you know that was going to happen?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, something like that.” 

 

“Oh.” Hira hesitated. “You…were really convincing when you told them that story about the assignment.” 

 

“Of course I was, I’m always convincing. Hira, I figured out I was gay in my second year of elementary school. And I tend to attract attention whether I want to or not, so staying under the radar wasn’t an option. I’ve had lots of practice being fake. That’s how I survived.” 

 

Hira hadn’t meant to strike a nerve, and picturing little Kiyoi in that situation was pretty heartbreaking. “I’m sorry, Kiyoi.”

 

“I’m OK. That was a long time ago. And it’s not your fault. Just—don’t get paranoid on me, all right? I’m not like that with you.” Kiyoi’s voice got quieter. “I promise.” 

 

Hira nodded gravely. “Mm.” 

 

“So…how about Saturday?”

 

“Saturday?”

 

“You know, for me to take pictures of you.”

 

“Um…sure.” 

 

“Really? Wow, OK. I’ll be ready. Don’t make any plans for that day, OK?” 

 

“OK.”

Chapter 3

Saturday came a few days later. Hira was so anxious that he woke up before his alarm went off. At least this would give him some extra time to watch Kiyoi sleep. Even after a few months of waking up next to Kiyoi almost every morning, he still felt excited about every opportunity to do that. But when he rolled over, Kiyoi was already gone. He couldn’t remember him ever having gotten up earlier than necessary on a weekend before, unless it was for work. Hira climbed out of bed and walked into the living room. Kiyoi was bustling about. He was wearing skinny black pants (he must have had at least eight similar pairs) and a thin, loose, charcoal gray sweater with a wide neck, dotted with artfully placed holes. He carried some circular bags into the yard, came back in and looked at something on Hira’s laptop, then went to the French doors and opened them slightly, standing in the doorway and looking at the backyard with his eyebrows furrowed in thought. Then he noticed Hira and turned in his direction. 

 

“You’re up!”

 

“Mm.” 

 

“I still have a bunch of stuff to do. You’d better work on breakfast.”

 

“OK.” 

 

Normally Hira would have gotten dressed at this point, but he was waiting for instructions on what to wear. So he started making breakfast in his pajamas. 

 

When it was done, he called to Kiyoi, who’d been in the bedroom closet rummaging through Hira’s things. They both sat down to eat. 

 

“I’ve got the clothes thing figured out. Now I need to work on the setup outside a little more. The weather’s really nice today, so that should help.” 

 

“Oh.” 

 

“I won’t tell you not to worry. There’s no point, right?”

 

“Mm.”

 

“I’m going to make you as comfortable as I can, though.” 

 

“OK.” 

 

“Well, I’m not sure how long it’ll take me to get it all finished but we should be able to start before too long. In the meantime, I put your clothes on the bed. Nothing fancy or weird, just normal stuff. You don’t have to do anything else to get ready so just, uh, do whatever you would normally have done on a Saturday morning if I wasn’t around.” 

 

The “if I wasn’t around” part of that sentence was necessary because if Kiyoi was home with Hira on a typical Saturday morning, they’d be heading back to the bedroom as soon as they were done with breakfast, if they’d even emerged from there in the first place. 

 

“Mm.” 

 

When breakfast was done, Kiyoi went back to his tasks. Hira went to the bedroom and found the outfit Kiyoi had picked. It wasn’t what he was expecting at all. A black t-shirt, a pair of dark brown pants, and a dark green cardigan that he sometimes wore around the house—it had been his grandfather’s. He got dressed and brushed his teeth. 

 

Hira went back to the living room. It wasn’t easy to focus or relax, but he tried. He proofread a paper he’d written for his literature class, made a few edits, then closed his laptop. He changed positions on the sofa to get more comfortable and picked up the manga he was halfway through reading. 

 

About twenty minutes later, Kiyoi called to him to come outside. Hira put one foot in front of the other despite the feeling of dread that settled over him. When he stepped into the yard, he saw a little structure of sorts around the clothesline. There was a pretty large collapsible diffuser on top of the clothesline, sitting horizontally like a semi-transparent roof without walls. A small collapsible stand was supporting a reflector in front of the clothesline and another reflector was attached to one of the clothesline poles. One of the chairs from the dining table was sitting under the diffuser. Another was on the opposite side, near Hira’s tripod, with his camera at the top. There was a second, borrowed tripod off to the side. 

 

There was also a cable release attached to his camera, the kind that allowed you to activate the shutter from a short distance away instead of pressing the shutter button directly. It immediately drew Hira’s attention. He’d always heard of people using them for long exposures, but that wouldn’t make sense for this. He couldn’t imagine what it was for. 

 

“Over here.” Kiyoi motioned toward the chair under the diffuser. 

 

Hira sat down. He already felt exposed. He looked down at his clothes. “Are you sure this is what you want me to wear?” he asked. “I thought you’d want something…nicer?” 

 

“No, that’s what I wanted. I was just looking for something that looked like you—but where it wasn’t like you were hiding under lots of baggy stuff.” He paused. “Anyway, if it had been anything, like, cool, then you would have been even more uncomfortable. And you would have made a bunch of weird faces and ruined all my pictures.” 

 

“Mm. That’s true.” Hira started to fidget with the hem of his shirt. 

 

Kiyoi took a few steps away and sat in the other chair, in front of the camera. He leaned close and looked through the viewfinder for a moment, then watched Hira on the screen from a little distance away. 

 

“I was tempted to hide behind the camera like you always do. Then I could see what it feels like—and see how you’d react if I was the one who was ‘invisible.’” 

 

Hira’s shoulders clenched up involuntarily at that. No, that sounded awful. 

 

“Ha! I figured,” Kiyoi responded. “I’m still curious to see how you’d react but again, I’d freak you out and the pictures would suck, so that’s out.” 

 

That was a relief. 

 

“So I’m using this cable thing, and I’m going to keep an eye on you through the screen as much as I can, so you can always see me.” He looked down and smiled slightly, abashed, and blushing just the tiniest bit. “Anyway, if you can’t see me, how can I get a photo of that look?” Kiyoi’s skin was coloring just a tint around his cheeks in a way that set off his face beautifully. It was like looking at a painting, except art could never capture something so perfect. Hira’s eyes went wide and his breath caught in his throat for a second. 

 

Kiyoi activated the shutter. Click! 

 

“That’s it!” Kiyoi exclaimed. “At least, I hope I caught it.” 

 

Oh, Hira thought. That look.  

 

Kiyoi walked over to him. “Don’t worry, I’ll barely do anything,” he told him as he approached. He bent over until his face was level with Hira’s and started messing with his hair. Of course, in the process, he’d brought his face right next to Hira’s. Hira could feel his breath on his cheek. He could look deep into Kiyoi’s eyes without having to make eye contact, a rare opportunity. And feeling Kiyoi’s hands in his hair made a tingly feeling crawl up his spine. Hira’s chest heaved slightly in his excitement. 

 

Kiyoi looked back down into his eyes. “Hey, you,” he said, “Save it for when I’m back at the camera!” 

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Quit apologizing.” 

 

Kiyoi had pushed Hira’s bangs to either side slightly, just as he’d proposed before. He stepped back and surveyed the overall effect with his head tilted to the side. “Hm. A bit better. At least your face is visible.”  

 

He walked back to his chair, sat down, and grabbed the shutter release in one hand. “Hm, now what do I do? I wonder what would make you stop thinking about the camera and just think about me.” 

 

Looking at Kiyoi was Hira’s favorite activity, but he often had to curb his tendency to stare. Being told that he was not only allowed to look to his heart’s content but that Kiyoi actually wanted him to was enough to stir him up a bit. His gaze in Kiyoi’s direction became keener. 

 

Click!

 

“That’s better. I need more, though.” Kiyoi paused to think, then started to smile slyly to himself. He looked up at Hira coyly and shifted his sweater so that it fell off of one shoulder. He tugged it down further in front, exposing an expanse of perfect skin on one side of his chest. He turned his head a little to the side, stretching his neck slightly so that an impeccably proportioned line was formed, going from his bared chest, to his shoulder, and up his neck. Then he turned his face back toward Hira and give him an arch look.

 

Hira gasped audibly. He wanted to jump out of his chair, step toward Kiyoi, and kiss every inch of that soft skin. But he was determined to follow Kiyoi’s direction, so he stilled that impulse. Instead, that surge of desire showed in his eyes. 

 

Click! 

 

“That’s really good, Hira. Keep it up.” Kiyoi’s words were encouraging, and he did seem pleased. But his tone was cold, demanding. Regal, Hira thought. 

 

Click! 

 

“You’re getting there, but I’m going to need more.” Kiyoi sounded almost bored. He leaned forward, knees apart, elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands. With his head tilted down, he looked up at Hira through his thick eyelashes and smirked. Then his eyes flashed as if he was goading Hira on. 

 

Click! 

 

“Good boy.” 

 

God damn. 

 

Was it earning Kiyoi’s praise that made Hira feel even more excited, or the fact that he had delivered it so…condescendingly? It had to be both. Hira’s gaze grew more intent. He wasn’t thinking about the camera at all, except as a means of showing Kiyoi his devotion—his obedience. 

 

Click! 

 

Hira was breathing hard now, and his skin felt hot, prickly. Kiyoi seemed barely affected. 

 

Click! 

 

Eyes still on Hira, shutter release still in his hand, Kiyoi arched his back, and his legs lolled apart. He threw his head back slightly—that perfectly formed throat!—and looked downward at Hira. There was something about his bare feet that made the whole pose seem even more indecent. 

 

HIra’s sharp intake of breath at that must have been a dead giveaway. Kiyoi didn’t even have to look up to know when to press the shutter release. 

 

Click! 

 

Kiyoi tilted his face back downward until his eyes were level with Hira’s and slowly ran his hand over his chest, his stomach, past his hip, until it just grazed his cock…Hira moaned involuntarily. 

 

Click! Click! 

 

Kiyoi sat up straight again and smirked. “You’re so predictable.” 

 

Click! 

 

“It’s really warming up out here, isn’t it?”

 

“Huh? Um, yeah,” Hira replied. He honestly wasn’t sure if the temperature outside was actually rising or just his own. 

 

“Yeah, it’s way too hot for this,” Kiyoi said, pulling off his sweater. He had a white t-shirt on underneath. It was so thin that it was almost sheer. He walked over to Hira. “Let me help you with that,” he said as he unbuttoned Hira’s cardigan. Kiyoi perched on Hira’s lap for just a moment as he slid his sweater off his shoulders. He reached up and tucked a strand of Hira’s bangs back to the side, eyes darting all over his face and then downward. He tugged lightly at Hira’s shirt, repositioning it, and smoothed the front of it with his palm. Every point of contact was like a tiny electric shock on Hira’s skin. Then Kiyoi turned on his heel and went back to his chair without a backward glance, picking up the shutter release again.

 

Kiyoi turned back to face Hira, his head tilted down, eyes upturned. 

 

“Stalker.” 

 

Hearing Kiyoi call him that had a Pavlovian effect on Hira. He was back in high school, genuflecting before Kiyoi for permission to kiss his hand, astonished at being kissed by Kiyoi behind the main classroom building. He was at the cafe after the performance where he first saw Kiyoi again after years apart, every nerve in his body vibrating in response to being near him again, every inch of him suffused with longing. 

 

Click!

 

Hira didn’t know how much more of this he could take. He had always acknowledged Kiyoi’s skill as a massive tease. Now he was playing him like a fiddle and he was recording it for posterity. If Hira hadn’t been so utterly whipped, he would have resented it. But humiliation from Kiyoi was better than being handled with kid gloves by anyone else. 

 

“God, I love you,” Hira rasped. 

 

Click! Click! 

 

“Damn right you do.”  

 

Fuck.

 

If it wouldn’t have been an act of blatant disobedience, he would have thrown himself at his feet. 

 

Click! 

 

“Let’s switch to something a little different,” Kiyoi said. He stood up, picked up his chair, and carried it with him to where Hira sat. He motioned to Hira to stand and moved both chairs to the side. Then he briefly repositioned the reflectors, removed the camera from the first tripod, and set it on the second. It pointed downward, clearly positioned to shoot Hira from above. 

 

“Lie down,” Kiyoi said unceremoniously. He motioned in the direction that he wanted Hira to position himself. 

 

Hira couldn’t have been happier to receive instruction. “Yes, Kiyoi.” He dutifully laid down on his back. He was now directly under the clothesline structure, still bathed in the hazy effect of the bright sunlight filtering through the fabric of the diffuser. 

 

“That’s my boy.” 

 

Chills. 

 

Kiyoi checked the camera’s viewfinder as if confirming Hira’s placement in the frame. Like before, he had set everything up so he’d stay fully visible to Hira except for these momentary checks. 

 

Next, Kiyoi took the chairs and placed them, one at a time, over the lower part of Hira’s body. He stretched himself out across them, laying on his stomach with his knees bent and his feet in the air. Hira was completely trapped from the waist down. A frisson of gratification rippled from his feet to the top of his head. Hira smiled to himself, and Kiyoi, looking down from his chair platform, immediately noticed. 

 

“Of course you’re into this, you perv.” He smirked. His voice carried an odd mixture of disdain and affection. 

 

Click!

 

Kiyoi had clearly mapped out this shooting position as carefully as the first one. The reflectors were placed exactly where they needed to be so that Kiyoi could look down at Hira from a slight angle, almost directly above him, without casting a shadow. He was so well-prepared that he even had a hair clip in his pocket to keep his hair out of his face while he was looking down at Hira. With the long front strands of his hair pinned back, he looked just different enough from normal for Hira to find it fascinating. 

 

Kiyoi reached down and brushed aside Hira’s bangs again. “Honestly, I’m mostly just shooting you from above to get those damned bangs to stay out of your eyes.” He sounded…different. 

 

When Kiyoi was finished with Hira’s hair, he looked down at him and smiled amiably. “Not too bad so far, right? Admit it! I really am good at distracting you.” 

 

Click! 

 

Hira was speechless. Kiyoi’s manner had changed so abruptly. He had told Hira he was going to distract him from his anxiety about being photographed. But Hira had been so caught up in their interaction up to this point that it had felt like Kiyoi was just…being Kiyoi. 

 

Kiyoi must have noticed his puzzlement. “Did you forget what I do for a living?” he said, half-teasing. 

 

Hira started. “You were…acting?”

 

“Not exactly . I didn’t say or do anything I didn’t mean—in a way. But you could say I took a part of myself and sort of…made it bigger.” He looked at Hira quizzically. “Don’t tell me you really thought…Hira, I know I’m high-maintenance. And hard to get along with. And, let’s face it, a total pillow queen. But I’m not actually a king, remember? Sometimes I just act that way because I know you like it. I like being able to make you that excited—as long as you don’t forget that it’s pretend. And today it was a win-win situation—I could keep you from worrying about being photographed and I could try to capture that look of yours.” This smile was mischievous, but warm. 

 

Hira started to blush a little bit, but for once he wasn’t tempted to hide. He was trying to process the fact that Kiyoi had put this much thought into pleasing him. He stared up at Kiyoi and tried to wrap his mind around it. 

 

Click! 

 

“I’m used to playing a part,” Kiyoi continued. “And I don’t just mean at work. Like in high school. I played a part that helped me stay on those popular assholes’ good side. I knew I could just as easily become a target of their bullying as you did, and of course, after a while they did make me a target. I tried to make things easier on you when I could, but you couldn’t tell. After that, it was like you wanted me to keep being that character. But just because I seem like I’m the boss or whatever doesn’t mean it’s the real me, or that playing that part doesn’t take work, or that I’m doing it for myself. Not that I don’t get anything out of it. But the biggest thing I get out of it is just…you. Seeing the fervor in your eyes, knowing I brought it out in you. Feeling so…wanted.” 

 

“You’re always wanted,” Hira said quietly. 

 

“Just don’t forget, it’s a game. It’s not real life. I’m a human being, not this image of me. And, uh, it also gets a little old sometimes always playing the same part.” Kiyoi put on a kittenish, imploring voice. “You know, we could trade places for a little while.” 

 

“Uh…uh…OK.” Hira had never been able to withstand that voice. 

 

Click! 

 

Kiyoi smiled brightly. “Thanks, Hira. Well, I feel like we’re halfway there now that I’m taking the pictures and you’re my model. What else? I don’t think I can compete with you in the eye-fucking department, though I could try . Maybe an overabundance of compliments is in order.” 

 

Click! 

 

He reached down and flicked at Hira’s bangs again, affectionately. “I was serious when I said I find you attractive, you know. Your bone structure’s gorgeous—I know some people, actual models, who would kill for those cheekbones.”

 

Hira’s eyes went wide. 

 

Click! 

 

Kiyoi’s gaze started to dart downward to Hira’s mouth. “Your, um, mouth…is a nice shape…nice, full…um…lips…” He bit his own lip longingly. He spaced out for a few seconds, then came back to himself. He seemed to remember the shutter release again.

 

Click! 

 

“I’ve always liked your hands. Something about those long fingers, they just look…graceful.” Hira was pretty certain no one had ever applied that word to him before. 

 

Click! 

 

Kiyoi looked into his eyes. “Your eyes are pretty. Really expressive and deep and sort of…hypnotic…” He stared into Hira’s eyes, biting his lip again, sighed, then came back to himself. 

 

Click! 

 

Kiyoi gave a self-deprecating smile and asked, “So, how does it feel to be the one getting stared at?”

 

Click! 

 

“Really strange. Not bad…exactly. Because it’s you.” 

 

“That’s not too bad, I’ll take it.”

 

Click! 

 

“Well, how else can I play the Hira part today?” Kiyoi asked. “I’m giving compliments, I’m staring, I’m taking photos. What’s left? It’d probably be best for both of us if I don’t cook. Oh, I know. I can’t exactly do it while I’m taking your photo—not unless we radically change the plan—but we could start making our to-do list for this afternoon.” 

 

“Eh?”

 

“Well, let’s say hypothetically that it was your turn to play pillow queen after this. How would that sound?” Somehow Kiyoi managed a look that was both lighthearted and deeply scandalous.

 

Hira had never been so openly propositioned by Kiyoi, who didn’t like to make any sort of first move, much less offered carte blanche to sit back and have Kiyoi do all of the work. He was so unused to having his own way, so disinclined to try to, that he didn’t really know what he would like or what he wanted, if he could even bring himself to accept the offer. But this affectionate side of Kiyoi making such an overture? It had him completely off-balance…

 

Click! 

 

Of course, given the option, Hira always felt most comfortable being the one catering to Kiyoi. Whatever the reason—whether it was somehow in his nature or was the result of his years of bullying or some other reason—subservience, even humiliation, definitely turned his crank. And he still saw Kiyoi as so superior to himself that it seemed like a foregone conclusion that he should have to somehow earn the right to be close to him and spend time with him. The only ways he knew to earn it were by making Kiyoi feel good, showing his adoration, or otherwise being of use to Kiyoi. Serving him. 

 

But the sweetly seductive side Kiyoi was showing right now was irresistible. Maybe he could let Kiyoi…um…be of service to him somehow—if, as he was saying, this would actually make Kiyoi happy. It was only fair…and he was getting hard just thinking about it. 

 

Kiyoi looked at him impishly. “Any requests?”

 

Click! 

 

“Not…specifically. Not yet. I’m…not used to thinking that way.” 

 

“You don’t usually need help thinking of ideas, Hira.” Kiyoi winked. Hira had never seen him do that before. He was so fascinated his mouth gaped open slightly. 

 

Click! 

 

“You’re so weird,” Kiyoi chuckled. “It’s cute.” 

 

Then Hira did think of something. He was looking up at Kiyoi, basking in his beauty, when it occurred to him how much he would like to look up at Kiyoi and watch all the sensations and feelings pass across that exquisite face while he…

 

Click! 

 

“OK, now you’ve definitely thought of something specific. You look like you’re a million miles away,” Kiyoi said. 

 

Hira came out of his reverie and looked back at Kiyoi sheepishly. Could he really say it—could he make a demand? Give…something resembling an order? 

 

Click! 

 

“Um. I want—I want you to–”

 

Kiyoi reached down and touched Hira’s hair again, affectionately, then trailed his fingers down the side of his face to his jawline. It felt like a gesture of encouragement. Hira gathered his courage, and the words he had held back began pouring out. 

 

“I want you to ride me until you come. I want to see you above me, on top of me, like right now–I want to see everything .” 

 

Kiyoi was blushing again. God, he was exquisite. He looked down deferentially. “Yes, Kazunari.” 

 

Dear God. Hira felt like his head was going to explode. 

 

Click! 

 

Click! 

 

Kiyoi climbed down from his chair platform, moved the chairs and tripod to the side, tweaked the camera’s angle on the tripod, and sat on the ground beside Hira. “So, something a bit like this?” He swung one leg over Hira and straddled his hips, shutter release still in one hand. He shifted his weight slightly and pressed himself against Hira’s erection, which was now straining forcefully against his pants. There was that mischievous smile again. 

 

Hira managed not to moan aloud or blatantly grimace, still conscious of the camera, albeit just barely. But his gaze was fixed on Kiyoi with more urgency than ever. 

 

Click! 

 

“How much longer?” Hira whispered. He’d tried to hide how desperately he wanted to take Kiyoi back to the bedroom, but he was starting to falter. 

 

“I had planned to keep going a bit longer than this,” Kiyoi said, “but I don’t know if I can wait either…and you’ve been wonderful, the best model I could ask for. I think we could stop soon.” 

 

Click! 

 

Click! 

 

“Soon?” Hira asked plaintively. 

 

“How about…now.” 

 

Kiyoi leaned down and began kissing Hira slowly and deeply. 

 

They never made it back to the bedroom. They didn’t really need to. The fence was high, the grass was soft, and the sun was warm. 

 

The view was a million times better in reality than it had been in Hira’s imagination. Kiyoi, coming completely undone, that gorgeous face and every inch of smooth flesh perfectly illuminated in the sunlight, was the most glorious thing he had ever seen. 

Chapter 4: Epilogue, part 1

Summary:

An attempt at photo editing leads to discussing some underlying issues as well as Kiyoi's past. Hira's stubborn assumptions trigger a conflict, but it's also an opportunity to clear the air about one of Kiyoi's biggest fears.

Notes:

The earlier chapters were somewhat self-contained, beginning with planning the photo shoot, preparing for it, and carrying it out. Although this chapter still deals with the photography project, it seems more distinct. That's why I'm calling this an epilogue. I also have another epilogue chapter nearly ready to post after this one.

Hira sat beside Kiyoi on the couch, his laptop on the table in front of them. He wasn’t looking forward to helping Kiyoi edit the photos from the shoot they’d done the week before. Looking at pictures of himself wasn’t as stressful as being photographed, but it wasn’t exactly fun. And this step was unlikely to feature the sort of pleasant distractions Kiyoi had offered when he was taking pictures of him. But he’d put it off long enough. He’d already done the dinner dishes and finished everything he needed to do for school tomorrow. He was out of excuses, and it was time to give it a try. 

 

He’d already done a cursory check of the photos when he’d uploaded them to his hard drive. Between what Kiyoi had picked up from Hira and the camera’s automatic functions, most of the photos had come out pretty well—properly exposed and so forth. But now, whichever photos Kiyoi liked enough to want to save or print would have to be checked, edited, and compressed. Maybe cropped or color-corrected, too. He could teach Kiyoi to do some parts of this process, and others were automated, but he would have to be involved in some of the steps if he wanted the results to be really good. And after all the effort Kiyoi had gone to—and how much it meant to him–it was important to Hira to do the best he could. 

 

He opened up his external hard drive in a finder window and started looking for the photos from the shoot. Kiyoi leaned forward and watched as Hira clicked on a folder called “by Kiyoi.” 

 

“Ooh, I have my own folder now.”

 

“Of course! You have a lot of files to store—you took so many pictures. Of me, and of those students when you were practicing.” 

 

Hira opened the “by Kiyoi” folder and two other folders were shown inside. They were called “practice” and “ugh.” 

 

Kiyoi snorted. “Let me guess, ‘ugh’ is where you put my photos of you.” 

 

Hira looked down, embarrassed. He’d forgotten he’d left that name on the folder. It had been a momentary impulse and he’d told himself he’d go back later and change it. 

 

“Whatever, it’s OK,” Kiyoi said, patting Hira’s arm. “You can call it whatever you want. I already knew the whole thing makes you uncomfortable. Thanks for doing it anyway.” 

 

“Mm.” 

 

“Maybe you could show me the first steps using the ones from the practice shoot. Then you won’t have to look at the pictures of yourself more than necessary.” 

 

Hira turned to look at Kiyoi. He was thinking about Hira’s feelings and taking them into account. Again! Hira felt unworthy, but touched. “That would help.” 

 

He opened “practice.” Inside were the photos Kiyoi had taken on campus when he was practicing his portraiture skills on those college kids. “First I’ll open up the raw files in the editor, then you can look through them and pick out some good ones. Then I can do a sort of rough, quick version of the first pass of editing so that I can show you the next steps. How about if you pick…three of them? That should be plenty.” 

 

Kiyoi nodded. 

 

The images started to show up in the editor app. The first photo was of one of the girls from the first group Kiyoi had approached about being photographed. Her smile in the picture seemed so sincere. Not the usual, stiff “having your picture taken” smile. Kiyoi had been trying to charm her, and as always, he’d succeeded. She was probably hoping that doing him a favor might lead to getting to know him better. It was only natural that everyone who met Kiyoi was attracted to him and wanted to be closer to him. The only unnatural thing, to Hira’s mind, was the fact that in spite of having a multitude of options, Kiyoi wanted to spend so much of his valuable time with him . “I feel a little bad for the, um, practice models,” he said. “It seems like some of them, uh…got their hopes up.” 

 

“I get it,” Kiyoi replied, “but I try not to worry about things like that. Pretty much my whole life, lots of people have wanted things from me, things I never offered or owed to them. After a while, I realized that I don’t have to feel bad if they get ahead of themselves and end up disappointed. It’s not my job to be what they want me to be. Most of the time, like with her”-—he motioned to the girl’s photo—”what they want is something I couldn’t give them even if I wanted to. Like, me? Dating a girl? There’s no way that would work out for either of us.” 

 

This reminded Hira of something he’d wondered about for a while. He turned toward Kiyoi. “With so many girls asking you out and confessing to you…did you ever… try dating a girl?” 

 

“Sort of. Not on purpose, though. I mean, it took me a while to figure out how to keep them at arm’s length without causing a lot of drama. So I went on a few dates, kind of by accident, because I felt weird saying no. That was, like, in my first year of middle school. At first it was just girls around my age, and that wasn’t that bad. I’d just go watch a movie with them or something. Then there was this high school girl in my neighborhood who asked me out every day after school on my walk home. I was only twelve and she must have been at least fifteen, maybe sixteen. Finally I just caved and said OK. All the neighborhood guys thought I was so lucky, going on a date with this older girl. One who was kind of cute and was supposed to be experienced. And I was just dreading it. Then, on the date, she tried to kiss me and…do other stuff. It was just…gross.” Kiyoi wrinkled his nose in disgust. It was so cute that Hira lost his train of thought for a moment. 

 

The screen on Hira’s laptop was timing out, starting to go into sleep mode. It didn’t seem important right now. 

 

“Actually, I think that was what got me to really admit to myself I was gay. I’d kind of figured it out way before that, when I had my first real crush on a boy, back in second grade. But after that thing with the older girl, that’s when I really had to admit it to myself. I didn’t just like boys, I only liked boys, and I wasn’t growing out of it. And…well, I realized that with the way I looked, the attention from girls was only going to get worse as I got older. So I figured out how to steer clear, mostly. There was still drama sometimes, but I tried to keep it to a minimum. I had these rules I always followed. Never be alone with a girl, ever. Never say or do anything a girl might take as a sign you like her. If a girl asks you out, try to pretend you don’t understand or answer in a vague, noncommittal way, but say no if you have to. If they write you letters, give them back or just don’t acknowledge them. If worst comes to worst and they really press the issue, just be a complete asshole and get it over with as fast as you can. I hated it, but what else was I going to do? If people had found out the truth about me, they would have made my life hell. And it’s not like I could have made those girls happy even if I’d tried.” 

 

“I always thought you just didn’t want to date any of the girls from our high school because you thought they weren’t good enough,” Hira said. “Which, you know, they weren’t. But, um, I thought that was all it was.” 

 

“Well, that was what I wanted everyone to think.” 

 

“It sounds…lonely. Having to pretend. And be on your guard all the time.”

 

“It was. I mean, I was used to it. But it sucked. Even now, it’s safer to be myself, but it’s hard to break those habits. I could probably even be friends with a woman now. I kinda think I’d like that. But change is hard. I still don’t usually show much of my real self to anyone…except you.”

 

Hira’s breath caught in his throat. “Kiyoi…” he whispered. 

 

Kiyoi turned away, looking half annoyed, half shy. “Eh, don’t make a big deal about it.” He cleared his throat. “What about you?”

 

“Me?”

 

“In high school, when I asked you if you liked men, you said you didn’t know. God, that pissed me off so much! I was really hoping that you’d say yes, and then I wouldn’t be so alone. I thought you were just being a coward. Then you said…well, you know what you said.” Kiyoi’s eyes darted about the way they did when he felt self-conscious. “But, um, what about now?”

 

“It’s the same as before for me. You’re the only person that makes me feel that way. So it isn’t like I have a gender I like, or more than one. I just like you. Only you.” 

 

Kiyoi looked away again, but Hira could see he was blushing…and smiling a little. “Gross.” 

 

“Maybe it is. I’ve never heard of anyone else who was like me, so I guess it’s unusual, at least. I can’t really do anything about it. And even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. So I’ve just accepted it.” Hira shrugged.

 

Kiyoi turned back toward him. “But how do you really know? What if you…” He chewed his lip, and his eyes darted from side to side again. “...like someone else someday?”

 

“I just can’t imagine that happening. It doesn’t seem possible.”

 

Kiyoi chewed his lip again. “And if…if we broke up?”

 

“I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else. That would just…that would be it for me.” 

 

“Should I be relieved to hear that, or feel sad for you? It’s…kind of fucked up.”

 

“Guess so.” 

 

“I mean, it just doesn’t seem fair to you. I shouldn’t be…you know…your one chance at having a partner.”

 

“I don’t think about it that way. If I lost you, nothing would ever be the same again. It wouldn’t matter if I was capable of liking other men or not. I wouldn’t want to, you know, ‘move on’ or whatever.”

 

Kiyoi paused for a moment as that sunk in, then said, “And you still don’t think of yourself as gay, or bi, or something?”

 

“I don’t entirely fit any of the labels I’ve heard of. But you could say I’m gay, and it wouldn’t exactly be wrong. All of the people I’ve loved have been men, it’s just that there’s only been one of them. Well, there will only ever be one. In any area where gay people don’t have equal rights, I don’t either. Aside from that, well, sometimes people talk about ‘sexual minorities’ as a big group. I definitely belong somewhere in that category.” 

 

“Hira?”

 

“Mm?”

 

“It feels good in a way when you say I’m the only person you feel that way about. And if that’s just how you are, I wouldn’t want to make you feel bad about it. But it also makes me worry about you. What if–” Kiyoi looked down at his lap. “What if things don’t work out for us and then you’re just…alone?” 

 

“It’s OK. I’ve always known that someone as special as you couldn’t be with someone like me forever. But at least I’ll have had this time with you. I’ll always have my memories. I…don’t like to think about what it’ll be like. But I know I’m lucky to have had the chance to be close to you at all.” 

 

Kiyoi had continued to look down while Hira spoke. Now he looked up to face him again. But instead of looking bashful, or concerned, like before, now he looked…angry. 

 

“Hira.” He was glaring. 

 

“Kiyoi?”

 

“What the fuck .”

 

“Eh?”

 

“What the fuck, Hira!” Kiyoi’s voice got louder and he started to gesticulate. “It’s like…we have these important conversations and you seem like you understand what I’m saying at the time and then, I don’t know, you just forget?”

 

Hira felt stunned, confused. He just stared back at Kiyoi in silence. 

 

Kiyoi took one deep breath, then another. It didn’t seem to calm him down. “You’re special, Hira! You’re special to me. It’s not, like, some kind of cosmic accident that I’m with you. I chose this. I love you, you asshole! But no matter how many times I tell you that, you still think I’m just…just going to leave you for no real reason. Just because I’m so goddamn special . Fuck that, Hira! If being special means having to be apart from the man I love, fuck being special.”

 

Hira didn’t know how to respond. Kiyoi had said things like this before. Hira knew he had hurt him in the past by not trusting that he sincerely loved him back. He didn’t want to do that again. He believed that Kiyoi was telling the truth. At least, the truth as he saw it. But the idea that he wasn’t worthy of Kiyoi just seemed so obviously true, so impossible to refute. It already seemed like a massive fluke that he had managed to be with Kiyoi even for this long. How could he expect this to last? 

 

“Anyway,” Kiyoi added after a moment, looking down again, his voice getting quieter. “You’re the one who’s gonna get sick of me first.” 

 

Every other thought left Hira’s brain. His eyes went wide and his brow knitted in confusion. “Wh-wh-what?”

 

Kiyoi scoffed. He looked at Hira, eyes narrowed. “You can dish it out, but you can’t take it, huh, Hira? It’s true, though. I mean, just think about it. Think about it for one goddamn second. What’s the one thing you always say, the way you always describe me?”

 

Hira couldn’t think straight. “What I always say?” he repeated. 

 

“You know what I mean! You have to.” He leaned closer. “The thing you would always say under your breath while you took pictures of me when we were seventeen? The thing I still wake up to you whispering to yourself when you’ve been watching me sleep in the morning like a total perv? The word you moan every single time you fuck me? This shouldn’t be that hard, Hira.” Kiyoi crossed his arms over his chest and bit his lip again, hard. 

 

Hira paused to think. The thing he always said? A word he always used? And then he realized what Kiyoi meant, and it seemed so obvious. “B-beautiful. I always say you’re beautiful.” He wanted to tell Kiyoi that he was beautiful, the most beautiful, but it seemed like that would make things worse for some reason. 

 

“Great job,” Kiyoi said, dripping sarcasm. “Now tell me this. What happens to someone who’s beautiful when they’re seventeen? What happens ten years later, or twenty, or forty?”

 

Hira was confused again. 

 

“They change, Hira. They get older. They don’t look the way they used to.” Kiyoi’s voice cracked as he finished his last sentence. He averted his gaze. 

 

Hira finally understood. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t figured it out sooner. He reached a hand out toward Kiyoi tentatively. “Kiyoi, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to make it sound like…like…” He put his hand on Kiyoi’s shoulder to try to comfort him, but Kiyoi shrugged it off. Then he hugged himself tightly. He looked like he was shrinking into himself, trying to make himself smaller. 

 

“It’s not your fault,” Hira began again. “I haven’t made it clear, and I’m so sorry about that. But you…you have it backwards.”

 

Kiyoi looked back at Hira, confused and more than a little bit suspicious.

 

“I don’t love you because you’re beautiful. You’re beautiful because I love you.” 

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kiyoi asked in an undertone. He sounded exasperated, but a little calmer. Interested, but cautious.  

 

“In the beginning, part of why I fell for you was because you’re so pretty. But that’s not how it is now. It hasn’t been that way for a long time. You look amazing, of course.” At the thought, Hira couldn’t restrain himself from running his eyes all over Kiyoi for a moment. “But that’s not the point. You’ll always look that way to me, because you’re my Kiyoi. It won’t matter if you get older. You could change in a million different ways and none of it would matter. Whatever you look like, that’s what beautiful is to me. Always.” 

 

Kiyoi’s expression was softening. “Really?”

 

“Really.”

 

“That just seems…I don’t know, easy to say.” 

 

Hira reached out again. This time, Kiyoi didn’t flinch from his touch. He placed his hand on Kiyoi’s shoulder, then slid it around his back while scooting forward until he was hugging him tightly. Kiyoi slowly reached out and hugged him back, then let his head drop to Hira’s shoulder. 

 

“It’s true, I promise,” Hira said. “But you don’t have to take my word for it. You’ll see. If you still want me around when you’re older, I’ll be here. My feelings for you aren’t going anywhere. Even if you left me tomorrow—”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“But, I mean, if you—”

 

“Stop it! I’m not leaving you tomorrow, and I don’t want to hear it.” 

 

“OK.” Hira paused. “OK. Well, no matter what, no matter how you look or what you do, I love you. And I always will. Kiyoi, I messed up. I should have made sure you knew that. I should have been clearer. I’m sorry. But…do you get it now?”

 

“I get it. I…don’t know if I totally believe it yet, but I get it.” 

 

“I’ll show you, OK?”

 

“OK.”

 

“And if you want, I can stop using that word all the time—”

 

“No!”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Don’t stop. I like it. I just…I didn’t want you to ever stop. I was…afraid of that happening.”

 

“It’s not going to. Not ever.” 

 

Kiyoi squeezed Hira tighter. 

 

“Kiyoi?”

 

“Mmph?” Kiyoi replied, his face buried in Hira’s neck. 

 

“Being beautiful sounds awful. People you don’t like hitting on you. Being noticed in all the wrong ways. Having to be afraid that every good thing in your life could just be taken away if you stop being pretty.”

 

“Yeah. I mean, I know I’m lucky. There are good parts, of course. But yeah, it also sucks.” 

 

“I’m so sorry I never noticed before.”

 

“Yeah, you’d think you would have noticed it too. Since you’re so hot.”

 

Hira’s whole body stiffened as a potent combination of self-consciousness and cognitive dissonance washed over him. 

 

Kiyoi laughed. “Maybe you’ve had the right idea this whole time, trying to hide how handsome you are. I should try it.”

 

“No!” Hira whimpered. 

 

Kiyoi laughed again. “OK, weirdo.” 

 

They sat like that for a while in silence. 

 

“Love you, Hira.” Kiyoi’s voice sounded almost childlike. He gave Hira another squeeze. 

 

“Love you,” Hira sighed back. 

 

“So much for editing photos.”

 

“Mm.”

 

“Maybe tomorrow, after dinner.” 

 

“Mm. Tomorrow.” 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Later that night, Kiyoi lay curled up under the covers in their bed. Hira turned off the lamp and the room went dark. Kiyoi wondered if there was any point in trying to say something more to Hira. He’d tried to reach him so many times. It was hard to tell if it was getting through at all, if things would ever get better. At some moments, Hira had really seemed to understand him today. But Kiyoi hadn’t told him just how worried he was. 

 

All that talk about how it was just a matter of time until they would break up truly scared him. Whenever he tried to confront Hira about it, he would act apologetic. But he seemed to think he just needed to avoid saying the wrong thing. He didn’t understand that the problem was really how he thought about Kiyoi, about their relationship. He definitely didn’t see how deep it went. 

 

Sure, Hira always said that Kiyoi was the one who would leave. He didn’t want to do that, didn’t plan to, so maybe that meant everything would be fine. But if Hira really thought it was all just temporary, wouldn’t that mean he had a greater chance of ending things himself? Or, more likely, of pushing Kiyoi away somehow until he had no choice but to let Hira go? 

 

Hira’s lack of faith in Kiyoi really hurt. If Hira didn’t believe in him, how would they be able to keep going when challenges inevitably came up? Kiyoi had to admit that Hira’s obsessive idealization of him had its appeal. If Hira ever stopped looking at him that way, he’d miss it. But he would have traded a big part of that adoration for a little more of Hira’s trust. 

 

At least now he would have some photos to remember Hira by even if everything blew up. He hadn’t wanted to tell Hira that part of the reason he wanted those photos was because their relationship felt so precarious sometimes. Having a memento would be cold comfort if he lost Hira, but it would be better than being left with nothing. 

 

Was there any point in trying to say something tonight? Soon Hira would be asleep. 

 

No. Not tonight. Earlier, Hira had lessened one of Kiyoi’s biggest fears. And they’d left things on a good note. It had seemed like maybe Hira was really hearing him. Maybe if he kept chipping away a little bit at a time, things would really get better after a while. He just had to be patient. 

 

Kiyoi scooted toward Hira and put one arm around him. Hira started for a second, then settled down. Kiyoi rested his head on Hira’s chest and nestled up to him. He had so many things he wanted to say. Too many things, and not enough assurance they’d really be heard. He tried to just focus on this moment. The warmth of Hira’s chest, his breath in his hair. Kiyoi nestled even closer. Hira sighed, blissful. 

 

Hira was too close to sleep to notice when a tear fell on his shirt. It would be long gone by the time he woke up the next morning.

Chapter 5: Epilogue, part 2

Summary:

Hira must have thought he'd be alone in the photography club's rooms when he came at the crack of dawn to print Kiyoi's photos of him. But Koyama had come by while Hira had stepped out. Intrigued by Hira's apparent secrecy, Koyama's imagination went wild until he was sorely tempted to look at the mysterious photos Hira was printing on the sly.

This is my second "epilogue" chapter for this story. I think this is the last I'll post but I've been known to change my mind about these things.

Koyama walked through the curtain and into the photography club rooms. He was surprised to see a desk lamp turned on near one of the printers. Someone must have forgotten to turn it off the night before. He was sure no one else could be there at this hour—it was just starting to be light out. Anyway, only a few of the senior club members had the key code to get into the building before it opened at 7:30. Koyama usually wasn’t on campus this early himself, but he’d pulled an all-nighter at the library studying for midterms. Then, in need of caffeine, he’d remembered he’d left a can of cold brew in the photography club’s tiny refrigerator and had come up to get it. 

 

He was walking toward the fridge when he heard the telltale whir of one of the club’s photo printers running. He turned his head. Now that he was looking from the other side, he could see Hira’s backpack hanging over a chair. What on earth was Hira doing printing photos at such an odd hour? And where was he now? It seemed a few photos had already been printed and were lying on the table face-down in a stack. 

 

Koyama grabbed his drink and opened it, then sauntered over to the printer with a studied, and completely fake, air of casualness. If Hira walked back in, he didn’t want him to think he was trying to peek at his photos, but…he was trying to peek at his photos. Or contemplating doing that, at least. At first he’d just been idly curious. Then it had occurred to him: if Hira had intentionally come to use the printers at a time when the club rooms were usually deserted, maybe he was printing something he didn’t want others to see. Then Koyama’s curiosity increased a hundredfold. 

 

But another moment’s thought made him hesitate. What sort of thing would Hira feel a need to keep private in this way? As Koyama’s mind cycled through a few possibilities, his stomach flipped and the blood rose to his face. Every possibility he considered posed a serious risk to his peace of mind…and yet he was more tempted to look than ever. 

 

Hira wouldn’t take such measures if these were simply photos of Kiyoi. He'd been editing and printing photos of Kiyoi in the office ever since they had started seeing each other. Other members of the club knew Kiyoi was Hira’s high school classmate and didn’t seem to think much of it. 

 

What else would these be? Koyama couldn’t help but wonder if these were a different sort of photos of Kiyoi, or of Kiyoi with Hira—photos of the most private sort. His stomach lurched again at the thought. In the last few months, he’d managed to adjust to Hira and Kiyoi being together. Kind of. Well, he was making progress, at least. But it seemed he wasn’t making quite as much progress as he’d thought, because the idea of Hira taking explicit photos of or with Kiyoi was having quite a visceral effect on him. 

 

Photos of Kiyoi might sting the most. There’d be an unavoidable implied comparison with the person Hira chose over him. Normally Koyama had a fairly healthy self-image. He knew better than to compare his appearance to that of models in magazines or actors on TV. But when one particular actor and model had been your actual rival, competing to be with someone you loved, and they’d won? It was tough to avoid. The wrong kind of photo would show in excruciating detail just how different he was from Kiyoi and remind him who Hira preferred. 

 

But these photos could include Hira with Kiyoi. That would be the ultimate mixed blessing. He knew Hira and Kiyoi were fucking, of course. That much was readily apparent. But there was a difference between knowing that in the abstract and seeing full-color documentation of exactly how his crush of almost two years was making painstaking, strenuous love to that abhorrent person at every possible opportunity. Considering how obsessed those two were with each other and how abjectly devoted Hira was to every inclination of Kiyoi’s, he assumed that was more or less how things went. 

 

But the prospect of finding out something, anything, about the side of Hira that only Kiyoi got to see…what lay under all those layers of baggy clothing….how he would look, how he would act, what he would like…No, gaining even a few scraps of that kind of information, much less having some sort of pornographic image of Hira newly seared into his brain, was hardly going to help with Koyama’s attempts to get over him. Unfortunately, that didn’t make him any less curious. 

 

Koyama caught himself. If these photos were actually graphic, would Hira really print them at the office, at any time of day? He could easily just keep such things as digital files or even print them on the smaller, lower-quality printer at he had at home. Come to think of it, using the club printer at this hour did imply these were photos Hira wanted to keep secret, but printing them here at all also implied that they were special . Like the other club members, Hira typically used these printers for photos he might want to use in a portfolio or even have framed. The images that had been flashing through Koyama’s mind for the past few moments didn’t exactly mesh with that idea. 

 

Screw it, he thought. Curiosity overcame caution and he impulsively reached out. One photo was still printing, but three others lay face-down on the table. He flipped over the stack, and…

 

It was just Hira. Fully clothed. Handsome as ever, or perhaps just a little more than usual. His hair was parted so that his face was more visible and he wasn’t completely buried under layers of clothing. But he wasn’t doing anything particularly interesting. Just sitting in a chair, or lying on his back in the grass. Well, he was doing one thing that was highly out of the ordinary for Hira: he was allowing someone to take pictures of him. 

 

At first glance, these photos were thoroughly unremarkable (aside from Hira having willingly posed for them). To someone who didn’t know Hira, they might have remained unremarkable even on closer examination. But Koyama had pined for Hira for over a year, growing increasingly attentive to the most minute changes in his expressions and body language, poring over every detail of his appearance. He noticed things others wouldn’t. 

 

He had two realizations at the same time. The first was that for there to be pictures of Hira, there had to be someone taking them, and it seemed pretty clear who that was. He was sure they weren’t self-portraits. That left one other possibility—the only person Hira loved enough to willingly allow them to photograph him. 

 

The second realization was that while this was undoubtedly Hira, to someone who knew him as well as Koyama did, he almost looked like someone else. This was a radically different side of Hira from any Koyama had seen before. That was the other reason to suspect that despite his lack of photography knowledge, the person behind the lens must have been Kiyoi—the unprecedented look in Hira’s eyes. 

 

Koyama knew that Hira’s photos of Kiyoi were special. Between his brother’s plays and Hira’s assiduous fandom, Koyama had seen quite a few of the photos of Kiyoi that appeared in magazines and promotional materials. They weren’t bad by any means. But while they excelled at presenting a somewhat bland façade of prettiness, the Kiyoi they showed seemed muted, bloodless, halfway interchangeable with any other model. But in Hira’s photos, he seemed more like a living, breathing human being. If anything, he seemed more alive than any photography model Koyama had ever seen. And as much as he hated to admit it, Kiyoi also looked more attractive in Hira’s photos. There was a kind of provocative spark in his expression and bearing when Hira was photographing him that even Koyama found a bit alluring in spite of himself. 

 

Hira’s look in these photos seemed like the other side of the same coin. Where In Hira’s photos Kiyoi was seductive and wryly flirtatious, Hira looked like he was consumed with desire, gazing past the camera’s lens with an air of intense want that was almost predatory. Koyama thought back to whether he had ever seen anything like this look in Hira’s eyes before, with or without Kiyoi present. 

 

He realized that he had seen a version of this look before, though it had never been this marked. The first time was on the day when Hira first saw Kiyoi again after their long period apart. (On Koyama’s first date with Hira! He was still bitter.) Koyama hadn’t known what to make of the strange, intense look on Hira’s face at the time, but in retrospect, he recognized it. 

 

The second time was a few weeks after Hira and Kiyoi had started dating. Koyama hadn’t observed them together very often in the past few months, which was probably for the best. But that night, he had gone to the acting troupe’s practice space to bring Yohei some food. The actors were all preparing to go home and Hira had arrived to pick Kiyoi up. Hira was helping Kiyoi gather his things when Koyama saw Kiyoi lean close and whisper something in Hira’s ear, smirking slightly. Hira’s whole body had seemed to jerk to attention in response, and his eyes had swiveled to Kiyoi’s face and stayed fixed there. Even from across the room, Koyama had been able to make out a complete shift in Hira’s physiognomy. He’d gone from his usual submissive posture, all sloped shoulders and downward gaze, to looking like he was barely restraining himself from pouncing on Kiyoi. That’s when Koyama had averted his eyes, unable to look any longer. Unfortunately, he still couldn’t help but picture what such a whisper and such a look might lead to once the two of them got home. 

 

But the look in Hira’s eyes in these photos made both prior incidents pale in comparison. It fascinated Koyama. Looking around to make certain no one was observing him, he picked up the photo on the top of the stack and raised it to get a closer look. He could read Hira’s face like a book, or he thought he could. He looked like some sort of caged animal. He seemed to be looking at someone for whom he felt a fervent, violent desire restrained by an almost worshipful adoration. Koyama had never seen this much passion or resolve in Hira. He had always thought of him as a rather passive person who allowed himself to be buffeted about by outside forces. But this side of Hira was decisive, determined. Strong. And frankly, incredibly hot—a thought Koyama tried, and failed, to put out of his mind. He wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of such a look. The blood rushed to his face again. 

 

Wherever Hira had gone, he wouldn’t leave these photos unattended for long. Koyama knew that every moment he stayed where he was, the risk of being caught increased. But he didn’t want to look away. Finally, blushing from shame this time, he took out his phone and snapped a few crude images of each of the photos, then placed them face-down on the table again. He half-ran to the other side of the office and sat down near the refrigerator just in time, as Hira walked in. He was visibly shocked to see Koyama. He glanced from Koyama to the printer station and back again, obviously weighing the likelihood that Koyama had seen something. Then his posture relaxed, as if he’d concluded he was safe. Koyama felt half relieved, half guilty. 

 

After exchanging a few uncomfortable words with Hira, Koyama took his leave and headed down the stairs and out of the building. For once, the awkwardness between Hira and him had worked to Koyama’s advantage, keeping their interaction short and providing him with a justification for his nervousness that he hoped wouldn’t arouse Hira’s suspicions. 

 

Once he was out of the building, Koyama could catch his breath and start to think about what to make of all this. Well, for one thing, he’d been fooling himself thinking he was remotely over Hira, and this little slip-up hadn’t helped matters. He knew he should delete the snaps he'd taken of Hira's photos immediately and try to purge those images from his brain, but he knew equally well that he wouldn't be able to bring himself to do it. He also realized that he needed to abandon whatever last shred of hope he might be harboring that getting between Hira and Kiyoi was possible. Koyama still had grave doubts about whether this relationship was good for Hira. But Hira and Kiyoi were clearly bound together by something powerful, no matter how fucked up it was—or maybe because of how fucked up it was. At least he had the small, bittersweet consolation of knowing that he had probably never had a real chance with Hira, no matter how he’d acted, even if he’d somehow been the most perfect version of himself possible. At least that meant he could stop obsessing about what-ifs. It was clear that once Hira had formed this obsession with Kiyoi, the die was cast.