Four Walls

Morning sunlight bled through cracks in the heavily drawn curtains, and Shigeru didn't have the strength to close them to eke out any reminder of the world beyond. Time didn't exist in the four walls of his bedroom where his slow, even breaths were the only sound to fill the silence. Tejima had instructed him to shut his phone off before they'd reached the doorstep of his apartment. She told him it wouldn't be good for his health to plunge down the rabbit hole of doomscrolling.

Social media streams would continue surging whether his eyes were on them or not. He could save it for when he felt stronger, surer on his feet to handle what the press would spin about him — about them.

His apartment was a yawning chasm, waiting to swallow him up but also shield him from the probing stares of those outside. He'd quickly drawn the curtains shut over the high windows, unwilling to let even a glimmer of light make it ways through. It might have been childish but at the time he didn't want to feel that warmth. Other memories sprung forth in it, ones that he tried to keep back with the tears pushing at his eyes.

An-chan with his head thrown back, laughing carelessly at a question someone posed to him. The way he would glance in Shigeru's direction like he'd been searching for him, wanting to know what he thought, if he was present. When had that changed?

Shigeru couldn't find the answer between his bedsheets, but he dove into them anyway, and stayed there for as long as his body could stand.

So when the curtains illuminated with morning light, indicative of another day's coming, Shigeru did his best to wake up and at least come to terms with the fact that he was still alive. His body ached with how long it'd been still and a headache drummed against his temples reminiscent of the last time he'd taken a drink of water or ate. With a groan, he turned onto his side and sank into the softened groove dug into his mattress. His eyes cracked open as the smell of warm, freshly toasted bread drifted up to his nose. His stomach growled traitorously and he pressed his hand down against the flattened pillow under his head, pushing up to one elbow to look.

A plate laden with two slices of plain toast and a glass of orange juice sat atop of his bedside table innocently, like they'd sprung out from his starved imagination. His eyebrows knitted together. Was this some kind of hallucination?

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been to the store, and there were no orders for groceries delivered to his apartment. It took a great deal of effort for him to push himself into a half-sitting position though he was grateful he had. The sweltering heat of his blankets left him far too hot for his liking but relief came from elevation, his sweat-slicked skin cooled by a breeze coming from the air conditioner.

Another curiosity, he hadn't turned it on since the weather had begun to cool recently.

Shigeru rubbed his fingers through his messy hair, eyeing the offering of food with suspicion. It was as though a helpful little fairy flitted through his apartment to try and make the coming morning a little easier on him.

A fairy. He blinked slowly, recalling the face of the stranger then shunting it clear out of his mind. Because it would lead back to him thinking about An-chan.

Always An-chan.

He leaned back against his headboard and blew out a sigh, eyes closed for one long moment like he could will himself into unconsciousness again. The tantalizing smells were stronger in the darkness though and his stomach growled pitifully, begging him to consume something at least.

Shigeru blew out a sigh. It'd already been made, and hallucination or not, he was still hungry. In a matter of seconds, the plate was empty and the cup had been drained. Surprise filled him with how ravenous his hunger had been, but his stomach wasn't satisfied in the slightest as it gave off another longing gurgle. He glanced up, wondered if the distance between the door to his kitchen would be possible to cross with how immobile he'd been.

The idea of falling asleep on an empty stomach again was worse. He peeled back the blankets, shuffling his feet into the slippers still set by the side of his bed. Every movement felt achingly slow, robotic, like he was watching his body move from the other side of a screen rather than in it. But perhaps it was better this way too, he wouldn't have to feel anything if he just moved without thought behind it.

The thought carried him through the doorway where the sound of his television on low volume struck him stiff. His stomach swooped low. Someone else was in his apartment, but who could it have been?

Only a few people knew where he lived, and fewer had a way inside without him knowing. Shigeru gripped the plate tighter and lamented his stupidity. Of course, a helping of juice and toast wouldn't appear out of nowhere. Someone had been moving around in his house, they'd been in his room where he slept.

His skin crawled, and it took all of his strength to force his feet to move. As he rounded the wall separating his bedroom hallway to the living room, the tight winding of fear and anxiety unspooled itself. In the middle of his living room, tying up a bag of trash was Tejima.

With a pair of rounded glasses perched at the edge of her nose, her dark hair spun up into a messy ponytail, and an oversized tracksuit draped over her slender frame, she seemed less of a manager and more of a relative who'd come to tidy up his place. Her back was to him, hands busied with tying the cheap liner of a trash bag she'd likely brought herself.

Several identical ones sat by the entryway, and Shigeru's heart felt too full when his eyes fixed on the dishes soaking in the sink. He tried to ignore the stinging in his eyes but it returned when he looked back to her, watching the news with single-minded focus.

"… Thank you for not burning down my kitchen," Shigeru muttered, voice low and warm.

Tejima whipped her head around, wide-eyed. Strands of hair fell into her eyes as they softened. "Good morning to you too, Shigeru."

"Yeah…" He muttered, trying his best to sound casual. It fell flat to his ears but if Tejima noticed she didn't hold it against him.

Her lips tipped up at the corners when her gaze drifted down to the plate in his hands. "You didn't have much for me to make anyway," she said, turning back to her task. "Make a list of what you'll need, I'll put in an order for it."

Although she wasn't looking at him, Shigeru nodded anyway. He turned on his heel to head to the kitchen then hesitated, stricken by the sudden tightness in his chest. One hand lifted to his throat, stroking lightly against a restraint that he couldn't presently feel.

"... Tejima?"

"Yes?"

Shigeru looked up to her, watching as she hefted the trash bag to the door. He didn't want to ask. "Have you heard anything…?"

Tejima exhaled deeply, dropping the trash bag with the others. Shigeru told himself it was because of the exertion and the clear work she'd put into cleaning his place but his nerves spiked nonetheless. When she glanced over her shoulder, there was a pitying look in her eyes. It clawed something fierce at his chest, and he looked away.

"Right, I thought not…" He muttered to himself, bringing the dishes to the sink.

Water tinkled softly against the basin as he let it fill, ignoring the swelling of emotion threatening to drown him in his own body.

"Shigeru, I want to apologize again…"

"You don't have to—"

"Hear me out," Tejima stressed, and Shigeru flinched slightly when she whispered, "please."

He kept his eyes low, focusing on the water surrounding his limp hands.

Tejima took a breath. "Anzai was right. I knew about your relationship with him, but I didn't tell a soul. So much of yourself is given to the public eye, I thought that you should have at least that much."

Shigeru wanted to laugh. That much, their euphemism for the fame killer — an authentic love. He squeezed his eyes shut, exhaustion weighing down his shoulders.

Tejima sighed, "But he was — is — important to you. And with what I know, I thought if something should happen he would be…"

Here. She didn't say it, but he heard it in the silence.

Shigeru looked at him then, too tired to pretend the exhaustion he felt inside wasn't there. "So did I," he said. It almost felt good to be honest for once.