In This World (Harry Styles)

5

(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It's important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)

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Love isn't lying

It's loose in a lady who lingers

Saying she is lost

And choking on hello

Helplessly Hoping - Crosby, Stills & Nash

It was raining again. I'd been shopping alone in Omotesandō on a recommendation from Kiko who couldn't see me that day. Some of the signs and the general language barrier posed an issue whenever I moved around alone, but I'd managed. The covid masks also helped me to go unrecognized, along with sunshades and a hat. I planned to surprise her with a small leather Issey Miyake handbag I'd purchased for her as an olive branch for the awkward tension that had overtaken our relationship. I'd even thought about buying one for myself, but it was a bit tiny for my taste. I'd also shopped for vintage novelty postcards to send to my family and friends while I was away. I planned to send them with no return address and hoped they'd be enough to placate their anxiety over my going missing. I then made one out to myself and stuffed it in my wallet for safekeeping.

Now I was sat on my own at a restaurant in the hotel, picking over a bowl of ramen and listening to the American and British music bleed from the overhead speakers. Currently Matt Maltese's "As The World Caves." It was as though I was trapped in a Murakami novel. Kiko's rejection had been a further twist to the knife he had plunged into my heart at the beginning of the year, but it wasn't her fault. We'd both been playing with fire, and alcohol and loneliness didn't mix well. It had gotten me in trouble countless times before and clearly last night wasn't the exception. I realized I was still reeling from the news I'd read about him this month, and had never really been ok after that. Kiko had just been helping to mask my grief, and for the briefest time, making life somewhat sufferable again. But it was all a lie. All of it. I was alone in my unhappiness and so I needed to figure my own way out of it.

When I headed back upstairs, I ordered a full-body massage and waited on the masseuse to arrive in a bathrobe and nothing but a towel beneath. To my surprise when he arrived, he was a tall, beautiful Japanese bloke who was ecstatic to meet me and spoke great English. I had half been expecting a lady, although I didn't specify like I usually did. I just wanted the first person available. He was nice enough. After his initial assessment of my problem areas and a description of his game plan, I laid down atop his table on my stomach, in nothing but the towel. His voice was low and calming as he unpacked his supplies and initiated small talk about my music and my stay in the city.

"I'll be here for a while. Then I hope to explore some of Osaka, where we performed once in 2015...and, I think, maybe then a few rural places."

"Osaka is wonderfulll. Highly recommend. I like the people," he said, gently stretching my arms and shoulders.

"Yeah, good people all around. Good food too."

"Ah, The Kitchen Of Japan..."

"Right," I chuckled.

When he was ready to start, he stopped talking, knowing it was time for me to simply relax. I sighed deeply, wiggling down onto the table and letting the warmth of his palms suffuse my back. I grunted a little as he dug in, whimpering as he worked the kinks out of my shoulder and blade. The temporary discomfort was welcome, as I knew the finished result would leave me feeling like a million bucks. When he worked on my neck, I became unreservedly vocal, because there was so much tension packed in that general area I thought I'd croak as he rubbed it out of me. I had no idea how stressed and tight I'd been.