CHAPTER 6 - “Oh My Gosh…”

I stood there, dumbfounded. I hadn’t expected the daisies and magnolia… For me literally.

Asami caught my stunned expression, and the grin that spread across his face told me he was enjoying every second of it.

My cheeks burned. This was the first time I’d ever been given flowers—by anyone, let alone him. I knew what these flowers meant and that only made my face hotter.

I wanted to thank him. I wanted to smile. And I did—too much, probably—but the joy was tangled with embarrassment, making me self-conscious.

A bouquet of flowers from Master Asami… what was I supposed to do with this?

What am I going to do? Why would he give me flowers? For what reason? My mind spun. I’m a guy. And he’s a guy. Isn’t this… strange?

But even as I panicked, I couldn’t stop my fingers from brushing gently over the petals.

It would be a waste to throw them away. My chest tightened. Maybe I’ll take them to my father’s grave tomorrow. Yes. That’s what I’ll do.

I lifted my eyes, looking for Asami. My breath gasped when I spotted him in the rear-view mirror.

He was wiping his face with his T-shirt, and for a moment it came into my view—every line of muscle, sharp and effortless. The kind of body that drew stares without even trying.

Every curve of muscle was sharply defined—the kind of body sculpted not by vanity, but by discipline. His abs were cut into perfect ridges, the deep lines of his side muscles tapering down into a V that disappeared beneath his waistband. Each movement made the muscles in his torso flex and shift, smooth skin stretched tight over raw strength.

The faint sheen of sweat glistened along his chest, catching the light, tracing the arc of his collarbone and the ridges of his stomach. My fingers twitched, aching with the stupid, reckless urge to follow those lines, to feel if they were as hard as they looked.

My throat went dry. Heat coiled in my stomach.

It wasn’t fair. No man should look that good just wiping his face.

“Oh my gosh,” I muttered under my breath, shrinking as if I’d been caught.

And then, of course, he started to approach towards me.

Asami paused, catching me looking at him in the rear-view mirror. For one heart-stopping moment, our eyes almost met. Then he started toward me.

“You want to grab something to eat on the way home?” he asked casually, as if the question weren’t completely unexpected. “After all this lifting, I’m starving.”

“S-sure. Let’s… let’s eat,” I stammered. “It’s almost lunchtime anyway.”

I thrust the hand towel at him, desperate for something to do. “Here. You were… sweating.”

He took it with a smile that made my chest tighten. “Thanks. I forgot I left it there.” His voice was easy, warm, as if nothing unusual had passed between us.

I watched him walk back to the car, every movement unhurried, deliberate. He finished loading the last of the supplies, shut the trunk, then slid into the driver’s seat beside me.

He glanced over before starting the engine. “Shall we? Ready?”

I nodded quickly, unable to meet his eyes. My hands gripped the flowers tighter in my lap. Embarrassment prickled at my skin—flowers, from a man. From Asami, of all people.

My heart still hadn’t slowed beating.

—

I kept my eyes on the blur of headlights outside, chin tilted stubbornly toward the window. Safer that way. If I looked at Asami, I might notice things I wasn’t supposed to—like the way his hand tightened on the wheel, veins standing out against skin, or the sharp line of his jaw that made my stomach twist for reasons I didn’t care to admit.

Better to focus on the dark glass. On the flowers still pressed between my knees.

A stupid thrill sparked in my chest every time I remembered them—bright petals against all the grayness of me. I shouldn’t feel this way, not after everything. Not when the only way to survive was to keep my head down, keep people at arm’s length. I’d learned that lesson: friends, family, even the ones I trusted most—eventually, they all turned on me. Better to be alone. Better to love quietly, from a distance, where no one could use it against me.

The car’s engine hummed, filling the silence until Asami’s voice cut through.

“Stay at the villa tonight. Have a drink with me.”

I glanced over before I could stop myself. His tone—low, rough—wasn’t his usual commanding one. It carried something heavier. Almost… weary. I’d never heard him sound like that.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked before I could soften it. My voice came out sharper than I intended. “You look… I don’t know. Like you’ve run yourself into the ground.”

For the first time, his mouth curved—not quite a smile, not quite not. “You’re the one avoiding my face, Ichinose. Maybe I should be asking what’s wrong with you.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I whipped my gaze back to the window. “I’m fine.”

But the truth lingered in the space between us, unspoken and undeniable: neither of us really was.

Asami’s breath came out a bit shaky, like he’d been holding it in too long. His hands gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. For a long stretch of road, he said nothing—just the sound of the engine and the faint thud of Ichinose’s heart in his own ears.

Then, finally, Asami spoke. His voice was hoarse, low, like it scraped its way out of him.

“Today’s the fortieth day since my mother passed.” A pause. Then softer, almost breaking, “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Ichinose froze, the words sinking into him. He knew that hollow space all too well, the silence a parent’s absence leaves behind. The ache came rushing back—theirs and now his. His chest tightened until it almost hurt.

He turned, really looking at Asami. The man who never faltered, never let anyone see weakness—eyes fixed ahead, jaw tight, as if admitting this was a wound too raw to touch.

Ichinose swallowed hard. “I’ll stay,” he murmured, the words rough with sincerity. “You won’t be alone. Not tonight.”

Asami’s throat worked, like he wanted to say more but couldn’t. Instead, he gave a small, wordless nod and blinked hard against the windshield.

When they pulled into the garage, silence hung between them—not heavy anymore, but fragile, like glass. They moved together, unloading supplies. Asami took the weight of the fertilizer, shoulders straining under the load, and Ichinose caught himself watching, not for the strength but for the exhaustion in the set of his back.

“Thanks,” Asami said finally, voice quieter than usual. He set the sack down, dust rising around his boots. “For helping me. For the flowers. For… being here.”

Ichinose’s throat tightened again. He shifted the box in his arms, trying to hide the sudden sting in his eyes. “It’s nothing. I should be the one thanking you. For the garden stuff. For…” He hesitated, voice softening. “For thinking of me at all.”

Asami gave a rough, awkward laugh, running a hand over his face. “I didn’t even plan it. The flowers. Just—saw them and thought of you. Dumb, maybe. I figured you’d hate it. Especially… out in the open like that.” His chuckle cracked, breaking halfway, and when he glanced at Ichinose, the embarrassment was real.

Ichinose’s chest ached at the sight. “I don’t hate it,” he said quickly, the words slipping out before he could second-guess them. His gaze darted away, heat rushing to his cheeks. “I… liked them. More than I can say.”

Something in Asami’s shoulders eased, the corners of his mouth lifting—not smug, not playful, but grateful. “Good,” he said softly. “That’s all I wanted.”

The light softened into gold as the day slipped toward evening, painting the villa in warm hues. Shadows stretched long, the sky bleeding from yellow to pink to violet. I froze, caught in the colors as if they were meant only for me. No—for us. My chest tightened. If I could hold this hour still, if I could stop the day from slipping away… maybe I’d get to stay in this moment with Asami longer.

I wish I would—just to hold this fragile moment a little longer.

“If I could only turn back time,” I whispered under my breath. Pathetic. I hoped he didn’t hear.

“As if,” Asami’s voice cut through.

“Ichinose… hey, Ichinose!” A hand waved in front of my face, pulling me back.

His grin was wicked. “Why are you gawking like a kid staring at candy?”

Heat rushed to my ears. I dragged my gaze from the horizon.

“I wasn’t gawking. I was appreciating...”

“Appreciating?” Asami arched his brow. “The sky or…?”

“The sky,” I snapped too quickly, which only made his smirk widen. Damn it!

I shook my head too quickly. “N-nothing. Just… the sky. It’s beautiful. Like it’s daring you to touch it.”

Asami followed his gaze upward. For a rare moment, his expression softened.

“Huh. Can’t remember the last time I actually looked at it. Not since I was a kid.”

Ichinose tilted his head, curious despite himself. “So you were the type to lie on the grass and watch clouds?”

“Tch. Only because the brother dragged me into it sometimes,” Asami muttered, but his mouth quirked, betraying the memory.

“He used to point out shapes. Said that if you stared long enough, the sky told stories.”

Ichinose’s lips twitched before he could stop them. “And did it?”

Asami shot him a sidelong glance, catching the almost-smile. “Maybe. Or maybe he just liked making me look like an idiot. Worked up every time.”

Ichinose ducked his head, hiding the small laugh that escaped him. For once, the ache in his chest eased—even as another, sharper one bloomed, knowing moments like this couldn’t last.

Something stirred in….

“What is this— feeling? Why do I want to hold him?”

To be continued….