He wasn't sure when it began. Or why. The first one he remembered was to Noriko.
They were choosing partners for a class project. Gakuto grasped the person nearest to him, afraid of being the last person left. 'Be my partner,' he asked. She could've pushed him away… refused, but she shrugged and tossed her girlfriend a smile of apology.
'Sure,' she replied.
Noriko liked the colour yellow, cats and the sensation of peeling dried glue off skin. Gakuto was in love.
The day he lied he led her down the hushed halls of his home. There was something about his house that caused people to speak softly. In the steel and stone of the kitchen he offered her a plate of saran wrapped onigri and a soda and they quietly completed their project at the table.
'Mukahi-kun, where's your mother?' she asked.
It was a feeling he knew well. A feeling that over the years would never abate or be conquered. The clench of his stomach, the hard thump of his heart and the taste of acid bitterness at the back of his throat. She's in a mental hospital. His mouth opened. 'She's modelling… in America…'
Then it was easy. His mother went from model to actress. He falsely confessed that she refused to acknowledge him. He moved to Tokyo. Where the photograph of Noriko became the girlfriend he'd left behind and then the girl he'd lost his virginity with.
The lies evolved, fed by others… secretly wealthy and experienced with boys and girls. The more popular false Gakuto became the less he was. No one liked real Gakuto. He was quieter, he'd never slept with anyone or been to America.
There were times he wanted it to stop.
Now was one of those times.
He sat on the edge of the bed, stomach churning, chest tight and the acid curdling at the back of his throat.
The gentle press of wet lips against his neck. The hands that stroked his body were experienced. 'Yuushi,' he breathed.
He'd never tainted tennis with lies… until now.
After practice Oshitari had suggested a physical relationship. 'We are both experienced and like boys. It would be less damaging to our tennis with each other, then distracted by outside forces. Come around tomorrow after school.' Because he did not refute the lies, Gakuto went.
He lied… to Yuushi... Yuushi.
His school shirt slid down his arms, followed by a warm puff of breath against his skin. The feeling in his chest only tightened and the gasp that was torn from him balanced on the edge of a sob.
Yuushi gently pressed him down on the bed.
'Gakuto,' he whispered. 'Is this your first time?'
'N—'
Yuushi closed his hand over his mouth. 'No more lies, Gakuto.'
The pressure intensified in his chest. He couldn't breath. He was surprised by the sting of tears. Then he couldn't stop. 'Yes,' he whispered. 'Yes.'
Arms encircled him. 'Shh, it's okay, Gakuto, I knew… I knew.'
