I move too fast and All I want is sex. We're going to start out like fire and fizzle out, like we always do, like the fireworks we are.

...

Maybe there would be an equally adorable, not quite as young, and assuredly real man at the club tonight, Akihiko considered as he ran his hands through his silver-blonde hair. That was assuming, of course, that he could drag Hiroki to the club after dinner. They always ate at a small family restaurant that was far enough into the city to require his sportscar, but suburban enough that it was within walking distance of the library. The setting was quaint and the atmosphere was enjoyable, but tonight Akihiko wanted to feel something.

He wanted to feel alive for once.

As he combed through his hair and teased the locks into position, Akihiko's mind wandered back to the strange profile. Misaki's profile, he corrected himself distractedly. Was he really only 20 years old? Was he as boring as his profile indicated? Countless other thoughts ran through Akihiko's mind, most of them pointless and trivial. When Hiroki rang his buzzer and yelled at him through the speaker, he checked his hair and face once more before locking the door behind him and rushing to the stairs of the building.

Dinner with Hiroki was all at once boring, relaxing and reassuring at the same time. The repetition of each meeting comforted Akihiko in some strange way, giving him reassurance of the one constant in his life- Hiroki Kamijou, his lifelong best friend and biggest supporter. Akihiko would order a burger and cheese fries, maybe some chili and beans if he was feeling gutsy. Hiroki would call him a traitor ("Don't you remember Hiroshima? I'm never eating American food...") and would order a soup, any soup, or a cheap salad. Hiroki's choice of meal was the only factor that ever changed on these dates. While they sipped on water and barely sweetened iced teas, Hiroki would pester him about the latest manuscript and subtly encourage him to finish, to keep up with his writing. Hiroki would encourage him to keep existing, and Akihiko could never convey his love and appreciation to the man for that.

When the food arrived, Hiroki would inevitably stare at Akihiko's meal and wrinkle his nose, a surprisingly childish gesture on his face, and would comment on clogged arteries and an early death at 43. As they ate, Hiroki would speak at length about his day, his students and the ones that he hated (which was most of them), his annoying office mate, and anything else that might interest Akihiko.

It was unspoken that Akihiko would remain almost silent during this time, leaving him time to eat his own meal to the fullest, and to only nod accordingly when needed. This also left time for Hiroki to barely touch his meal, leaving most of it still on the plate. When it came time to pay the bills, Hiroki always requested a box, claiming that he would finish this at home with Nowaki. Neither man mentioned the fact that Hiroki never looked at Akihiko as he said this, and that Hiroki never ate more than 1/4 of his plate, if that. He would toss the box to the back of his car when they got in and headed to the next destination, and Akihiko wouldn't ask him if his food would be ruined. Both of them seemed to know that this was not an issue for Hiroki. Neither of them would mention this.

As they headed out to the car and Hiroki held the rest of his garden salad in the small black box in his hand, Akihiko allowed himself to entertain the possibility that, at his own apartment, Hiroki's refrigerator was filled with 3 shelves of take out boxes like this. And even as Hiroki tossed the box into the backseat, muttering something about giving that to Nowaki or eating it later, Akihiko knew that he was being fanciful and neither of those options would happen.

"So, where to now, old buddy, old pal?" Hiroki said with feigned enthusiasm as he put his car into reverse and waited for instructions, appearing almost like a petulant cab driver. Akihiko stretched his arms over his head and sighed. Dinner had seemed more exhausting than usual.

"Can you maybe just drive me home, please?" He asked softly, looking out of the window. Hiroki glanced over at him and nodded. The ride back to Akihiko's loft was quiet, as both men were exceptionally melancholy and somber. There was really no occasion for the moodiness beside their own concerns and thoughts. For some reason, Akihiko felt worse than usual about leaving their "bro night" early. As Akihiko left Hiroki's car and waved goodnight, he glanced back to the forgotten box in his backseat. A flurry of questions and speculations ran through his head in a split second, and almost as though he'd been jerked, he brought his eyes back to Hiroki's. His best friend stared at him for a good 5 seconds before blurting out a quick "good night" and speeding away from the front doors. Akihiko stared at the headlights of the car as Hiroki stopped for the light before continuing into the evening.

As Akihiko entered his still empty loft, a sudden inexplicable and undismissable sadness welled in his chest, and he felt a lump rise in his throat. Throwing his blazer onto the chair across from him, he sank down onto the couch and sank his head into his heads. There was some small part of him that wanted to call someone, anyone, and talk to them about anything, whatever came to mind. But if he was honest with himself, there was no one that he felt comfortable enough to do that with, which is why Akihiko spent most nights by himself, watching television, and considering all of the different roads that his life might have taken. Hiroki had his own issues, Aikawa wasn't the kind of person that you would do that with, even if he were close enough with her, and the only other person was long gone, completely out of reach.

A soft 'ping' from his desktop signaled a notification, knocking Akihiko out of his reverie and alerting him back to the real world. He pulled his long sleeved t-shirt over his head as he headed over to the computer. It was 7:00, which wasn't late by any means, but Aikawa rarely ever contacted him in the evening or any time past that. After the first time that she'd broken into his apartment, they'd agreed that she would never call, ring, or hurt him before 9:30 a.m., which saved their relationship for future occasions.

The new email was actually a notification from his dating website, which was appropriately named "Catchers and Pitchers". It was an email meant to notify him to check his profile's inbox. Akihiko didn't take much thought to it as he logged into the website and opened up his inbox. It wasn't until the note was open on his desktop did the man stop his motions and feel his heart genuinely twist, as he stared at the bright smile on Misaki's innocent face. The message read:

"Hi!

My name is Misaki Takahashi, and I'm 20 years old. I noticed that I'm the only man on your favorites list. You seem like you might actually be real offline, and your location says that you live in Tokyo, so I was wondering if you wanted to meet up? Maybe at a coffee shop? I know that's like, totally hipster and whatever, but if you can, just message me back. Or else, if you aren't looking for anything offline, please un-add me.

Thanks!

The note was signed, Misa-kun, which Akihiko thought was impossibly cute and ridiculously polite. He reread the message and considered his options. This kid was cute. So fucking adorable. He was probably tiny and smiley and happy. Also, he needed to do a search on the word 'hipster'. Akihiko thought of his options again with this cute kid, who was probably good, and was in college and was most likely a virgin (Oh shit, when was the last time he'd ever had a virgin fuck) and he was interested. That's basically what the message had said. Lighting up a cigarette and pulling closer to the desk, he began to type back.

From: U. Aki-san

To: Misaki Takahashi

Hi there. I would be very interested in meeting you in real life. You seem cute, and nice.

Are you?

A reply came almost instantaneously.

To: U. Aki-san

From: Misaki Takahashi

Awesome! And thank you :) You're really attractive too, tbh. What do you do for a living? I make bread and pastries and decorate cakes. I make cakes too, but I guess they'd be considered in the pastry category. No, they're bigger than pastries. What do you think?

Akihiko stared at his computer screen in almost disbelief. This kid just asked him if he thought cakes were a pastry. What the... He smiled wryly to himself. This might be an easy one, he thought.

To: Misaki Takahashi

From: U. Aki-san

No, I think they'd be considered a baked good. You're the cook, shouldn't you know? ; )

He smiled to himself and went to take another drag of his cigarette. The response was immediate. Akihiko was practically spooked, and nearly dropped the cancer stick in his mouth. What, was this kid a fucking superhero with his keyboard? He scrolled down to read the response.

To: U. Aki-san

From: Misaki Takahashi

Ha. Funny. When was the last time you cried by yourself and who was the last person you cried in front of someone? And p.s., putting a space between the eyes and the smile on your emoji makes you seem like a weird older creep who hasn't caught up with the latest lingo.

Akihiko stared at the message, stunned by the sudden lack of empathy and the change of subject.

I hope this kid isn't a serial killer or some sort of psychopath, he thought as he typed out his reply, almost a bit shaken. But he wasn't shaken. Nothing really shook Usami Akihiko.

To: Misaki Takahashi

From: U. Aki-san

I don't really cry. I guess the last time that I would have cried was almost 5 years ago, when my father died. I wasn't really sad, but I cried alone. We never really knew each other, and my brother didn't really like me. I was never legitimate to him, and I never will be. That was the last time I cried alone. I can't recall the last person I cried in front of. It was probably the last man that I fell in love with, or my childhood best friend.

Akihiko stared at his soul on the screen. Why the hell was he telling this to some stranger, some kid online who he'd never even met? And why did it feel fine to talk to him like this?

This is insane, Akihiko thought. I shouldn't be doing this. He could be a stalker, a serial killer, a deranged axe murderer.

The response came quickly again, though it was just a bit slower than before.

To: U. Aki-san

From: Misaki Takahashi

That's very sad, and I'm so sorry for your loss. My father died when I was young, so I never really spent a lot of time with him. I did all of the things you're supposed to do as a kid, play catch, learn to ride a bike, play chess, whatever. But I wished I'd gotten the chance to spend real time with him. I guess you'll never get that either.

There was a pause here, almost as if Misaki had sent the message, and immediately had thought of something to add.

The last time I cried was when my brother told me that he was getting married and I was on my own. That was 2 years ago, when I went off to school. I'm lucky that I got so many scholarships, so I only have to pay about 200 yen a year. It's not bad at all, so basically I'll have no loans. I cry by myself all the time, like a constant. I cried earlier today too.

Akihiko stared at the words before feeling a lump in his own throat. This boy was a freaking miracle. He was honest and kind and probably sitting at his own computer wondering why he'd sent the message. Talking with Misaki was easy and refreshing, as if they had spoken for years and knew each other well. Suddenly, Akihiko thought that he perhaps understood the appeal of online relationships. You wouldn't see this person each day, and have to deal with the aftermath of sharing your secrets, of seeing all of the bruises on legs, the takeout boxes that went untouched for days on end...

He shook himself, and answered the message.

To: Misaki Takahashi

From: U. Aki-san

Please, can you call me? I want to hear your voice. Here's my number.

Akihiko typed the number quickly and sent the message, taking quick, short drags on his cigarette. It wasn't 25 seconds later that his cell phone rang on the coffee table. He jumped from the chair and lunged for it, almost falling on the bare floor. He answered on the 2nd ring.

"Hello?" He asked desperately, mentally cursing himself for how pathetic that sounded.

"Is this... Aki-san?" Came the uncertain voice. Akihiko could almost feel his heartbeat through his chest, through his shirt, as if he were a cartoon on a TV show and everyone could see his excitement and nervousness. He felt warmer than usual.

"Yeah- yes. I'm Akihiko. Misaki, I'm really glad you called." He sat down on the couch, bumping his leg up and down at a furious pace.

Misaki's laugh was high and oddly pleasant. It was almost like birds chirping, but as though they were singing for joy at the top of their lungs. "I'm glad to make you glad." He said, and Akihiko almost groaned at the sound of his voice. It was a mixture between an innocent lilt and a 1-800 number that you might call late at night, not at 7:30 in the evening on a Wednesday, for God's sake. "I'm everything that I say am, as in my profile, I mean."

There was something uncertain and cautious in Misaki's voice. Akihiko was so ridiculously happy to talk to him, for no real reason, if he was being completely honest with himself. "I'm really only 20. Um, I had another question for you. What was the last book that moved you emotionally? Book or movie. Or multi-multiple ones, if that happened to you."

Akihiko obliged him, and asked the same question in return. This continued for an hour and a half, with Misaki asking random, seemingly off the wall questions and Akihiko answering truthfully and diligently. He felt electric, as though all of his senses were being electrocuted at the same time. He thought that if Misaki was in this room right now, he would touch him, and his nerve endings would all catch fire and burn them up, he and Misaki, and they would melt together into one person. Misaki laughed, and he could hear the smile in his voice. Akihiko relaxed into the couch, and listened.

Over their talk, he learned so many things about the younger man. Things like his first kiss (an American boy who was blond with beautiful hazel eyes, Misaki claimed), the fact that he was deathly afraid of the dark and of being forgotten ("My second death-that's what I'm the most afraid of." Misaki had said, laughing.), and he learned that his biggest wish was to own and run his own pastry shop, far into the future. "Like, when I'm old. Like 30." Misaki teased, and it was Akihiko's turn to laugh with him.

He listened to Misaki's woes of childhood, from his dead parents ("I don't really want to talk about that much.") to his first job. In return, Akihiko told him about his depression through college, and even now, his writing style (he left out the part about being a billionaire bachelor), and his love for stuffed animals and giant toys. They were telling each other almost everything about themselves, and both men seemed to acknowledge and accept this.

During this time, Misaki convinced Akihiko to turn on Lana del Rey, and told him which songs to click next in the YouTube shuffle. Akihiko did so dutifully, listening to both the breathy and captivating voice of the woman who sang about alcohol and "daddies", and to the laughing, sensual voice of the boy he spoke with. It wasn't until 10:00 that Misaki told him that he had to go, seeing that he had class at 9:00 the next morning.

"Can I see you?" He asked desperately. It was somewhat disconcerting to him that, in these almost 3 hours talking to Misaki, he had told him some things that even he and Hiroki hadn't discussed.

Misaki made a "hmm" sound, and sighed. Akihiko swallowed, feeling another lump in his throat, but for a different reason this time. He moaned into the phone, and if Akihiko hadn't been holding onto the cushion, he'd have fallen from the couch.

"Sorry, I yawned but I also tried to talk. It came out weird." Came Misaki's reply, following by his high and lilting laugh. Akihiko's tongue felt thick, and his pants were getting tighter by the minute. He needed confirmation quickly, so that he could hang up the phone and go somewhere very, very private, away from this boy who was pulling him in deeper each moment, with each sensuous and loaded sentence. Misaki sighed again.

"Yes. I can meet you at the coffee house I told you about. I'll message you the address." He added, almost absently, as though he were considering or planning something else at the moment. "I'll see you tomorrow at 4. Will that work?"

"Yes!" Akihiko rasped. He'd been biting down on his tongue since Misaki had moaned at him. Had he always been this needy, this ready? He was a grown man, he needed to get it together.

"Okay." He could almost hear the smile in Misaki's voice again. "I'll- uh, mmmm-I'll", there was a gasp and a sigh. He was moaning again, and it was maddening. "I'll meet you there tomorrow, okay. Mm. I'm sorry, I'm just so tired, Aki-san." Akihiko was practically rubbing his crotch on the couch, he was extremely hard by now.

"That sounds amazing." He was able to get out, painfully aware of how high and tight his voice sounded. "Yeah, I will meet you there, at 4." He grunted out.

"Yeah, good. Okay, I really gotta go now." There came what sounded like a genuine yawn on Misaki's end. The computer pinged, and Akihiko spared a look over. Misaki had already sent the address, plus a map of the city with the small shop pinpointed on it.

"Oh, and Akihiko-san?" Akihiko was hanging on his every word.

"Yes?" He said expectantly into the phone.

Misaki suddenly let out a loud and unexpected moan into the phone, sounding like a long, "Uhhmmmmmph...", which was followed by a short gasp after it, and a sigh. It sounded as if Misaki had just climaxed and Akihiko had to unzip his pants so that he could breathe again.

"What I meant to say was," Misaki paused, and Akihiko could hear him barely containing his laughter. "Have fun with your boner."

The phone clicked, signaling the end of the call, but not before Akihiko heard Misaki begin to erupt into laughter on the other end. He sat on the couch, staring at the phone and feeling extremely embarrassed. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and tossed the phone onto the couch. As he stood up, the bulge in his pants alerted him once more, and he rushed upstairs to his bedroom, and closed the door, diving onto his bed with a ferocious urgency and need to remove his private parts from his underwear.

As he helped himself in the bedroom, Lana del Rey suddenly came to a stop on his desktop, ending the last song on shuffle, "Cola".