writetomyheart | [Team Two] Somewhere Only We Know

A bittersweet Yugoje story I've been planning — they are two salarymen who meet only in private during occasional onsen getaways.

Jesse/Kochi | G | ~680 words

The futons have already been cleaned away when they come back to the room after breakfast. After taking off their shoes, Kochi starts gathering his stuff into the duffel bag and pulls on a sweatshirt over his T-shirt. He hasn't said much since they woke up early in the morning, even when they visited a morning bath just the two of them, and there was no one else present.

Jesse keeps watching him for a while, his gaze following Kochi's back and how he carefully folds his clothes.

Eventually, Jesse sighs and starts packing, too. This is how it always goes. Kochi always starts to disappear a little early, pulling himself back into the version of himself he shows to the world. It's the version with boundaries, distance, and countless excuses.

"We still have one hour before check-out," Jesse says carefully, a little bit hopefully, once they're both in the bathroom, packing up their toothbrushes and face wash bottles into travel pouches.

Kochi sighs.

"I'll have the boys today,” he says.

Right. The boys. Jesse swallows the bitterness.

"You see them once every two weeks anyway," he says, shrugging. "You’re not winning any Father of the Year awards by being one hour early."

When Kochi doesn't say anything to that, Jesse realizes he went too far with that.

"Sorry. That was unnecessary," he mutters.

Silence falls between them, and Jesse wishes he could pull that back.

Kochi zips the toiletry bag closed without saying a word.

"I just—" Jesse says, trying to soften his earlier words, "—when we're here, it’s almost like we could be something that's not a secret. You know what I mean?”

"You have a life, Jesse," Kochi states. "I'm not going to be the reason it breaks."

Jesse lets out a short laugh.

"What life?" he asks, and he can't help sounding bitter as he thinks about the choice of Kochi's words. "You've met my wife. We don't even talk, haven't talked about anything in years, unless it's about the mortgage."

"That’s still more than I've got."

"That's not true."

Jesse takes a gentle grip of Kochi's shoulders and forces him to face him, but Kochi's look stays down.

"I'm not asking for fireworks," Jesse says gently. "Or for you to come running to Tokyo and move in with me immediately. I just might want... more than this."

"I don't know if I can give you that because I don't think I would deserve that," Kochi mutters.

That really hurts to hear. Jesse reaches out and cups Kochi's cheek. Kochi doesn't pull away but finally raises his head to look at Jesse.

Jesse would like to kiss him. God, he wouldn't like to do anything else.

But he doesn’t because he knows he's pushed as far as he can at that moment, and he can tell it immediately in Kochi's eyes. He can tell that Kochi is already halfway back in his other life - the one with the boys he barely knows how to talk to, the ex-wife who hates him, and all the barriers he's built so thick that even Jesse can't slip through them. Kissing Kochi in that moment wouldn't break those walls but would potentially make things even more complicated.

So Jesse gives up and lets his hand fall. Then he lets Kochi slip away, both physically and emotionally, as Kochi pulls out of his touch and turns away to continue packing.

After that, everything happens quickly and without much being said, because there is nothing left to say. There's only the familiar choreography of goodbye that summarizes their final moments together.

Eventually, they sling their packed bags over their shoulders, slip into their shoes, walk down the ryokan corridor, and return the room key at the reception.

Once outside, Kochi steps into the car and gets behind the wheel. He waves his hand and drives away without looking back.

Jesse watches the car pull away, taillights blinking once before disappearing around the bend.

And then, all he can do is wait. He can only wait until they're able to meet again.

shinysylver, your turn! The last sentence is: "He can only wait until they're able to meet again."