Two hours had passed since Lana left, and the silence in the room felt suffocating. Arashi lay there, staring at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling with heavy, uneven breaths. He wasn’t crying anymore, but the ache in his heart felt like it would never cease. Occasionally, a short sob would break free, a soft, guttural sound that he couldn’t hold back, no matter how hard he tried to stay composed.
The memories of Lana haunted him in every corner of the room, flooding his mind without warning. He thought about her sweetness, the little things she did—how she would laugh at her own silly jokes, the way she’d playfully tease him with her quick wit, always catching him off guard. He missed everything about her. Every gesture, every word that once felt like a comforting presence.
His mind drifted back to the first time they met, to all the small moments they had shared, from their heated arguments to the tender, quieter moments. He could still feel the warmth of her touch, hear the rhythm of her laugh, taste the sweetness of her lips on his. Each memory cut deeper, each one unraveling him more. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. About how she was the one person who had made him feel alive, whole—until everything fell apart.
Arashi almost felt like he was losing his mind, the weight of it all pressing down on him with each breath he took. Everything felt like it was slipping away, and in those moments, he felt as if he had already lost his world. Lana was his world, and now she was gone, leaving nothing but the empty space between him and the memories they’d shared.
Arashi stood up slowly, his body still heavy with the aftermath of everything that had transpired. His eyes were swollen from crying, his heart still raw with every thought of Lana. He stepped out of his disastrous room, his steps slow and unsteady, as if the weight of his emotions had grounded him in place.
His gaze fell on the food Lana had cooked for him, sitting untouched on the counter. It felt like a lifeline, yet a reminder of everything he’d lost. With a shaky breath, he walked over and grabbed the bento, then made his way to his usual workbench. The familiar place felt different now, empty, void of the warmth she’d brought into his life.
Sitting down, he opened the bento, and the moment the lid lifted, the smoky aroma of Chinese fried rice hit him. His favorite dish. Lana had known how much he loved it. A sob caught in his throat as his vision blurred, tears threatening to spill over.
The fragrance took him back to the nights when they would sit together, eating meals like this, sharing laughs, the warmth of her presence filling the room. It wasn’t just food—it was a memory. The memory of her—of them.
He closed his eyes for a moment, the tears blurring his vision even further, but it didn’t stop the memories from flooding in. He remembered their intimacy, their connection. It wasn’t about the lust; it never had been. No, it was deeper than that. The way their bodies moved together, in sync, as if they were one. The sex had been fulfilling in ways that went beyond the physical—it was the love they shared.
Every touch, every kiss had been tender, comforting, like the warmth of a fire that had wrapped them both up in its embrace. The scent of her skin, that calming, fiery fragrance, was still etched in his mind. It reminded him of the closeness, the connection they once had. The love he had longed for, the love he had finally found with her, even if it had been short-lived.
He choked on a sob, unable to stop the pain that swelled within him. All the love he still felt for her, and the overwhelming regret of losing it, tore at his chest. The tears flowed freely now, and he didn’t try to stop them. The empty space where Lana had once been felt unbearable.
Arashi’s voice was barely a whisper, the words soft and broken, as if speaking them aloud might make the pain more real. His voice trembled, but he forced himself to take a bite of the cold fried rice, the food now losing the warmth it once held—just like everything else.
His eyes, swollen and teary, blurred his vision as he chewed slowly, almost mechanically. The once-smoky aroma of the rice now seemed muted, distant, as if the warmth of their moments together had been swallowed up by the cold air of their separation. Each bite felt heavier, like a reminder of what had been lost and the space between them that he couldn’t seem to close.
The tears didn’t stop. They kept falling, mixing with the cold rice as he ate, but he didn’t care. The pain, the regret—it was all there, a constant weight he couldn’t escape. And despite the hurt, despite the emptiness, he whispered it again, almost to himself, as if trying to convince his broken heart that it was true.
But even he knew, deep down, that it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay.
Arashi didn’t notice the time passing. Each bite of Lana’s cold fried rice felt like it carried the weight of an entire lifetime of regrets. His tears had long since stopped, but the emptiness remained, suffocating him. The old Cantonese saying echoed in his mind—‘If someone eats food while crying, it will not be a blessing to their body.’
But what choice did he have? He didn’t feel like he could stop, not until every bite had been consumed, until the food, cold and devoid of its previous comfort, mirrored the hollow space inside him. He slowly finished the meal, each grain a reminder of what he had lost, of everything slipping through his fingers.
Then, suddenly, the door burst open, and a voice, bright and cheerful, cut through the oppressive silence.
Esme’s voice trailed off when she saw the scene in front of her. The air in the room felt thick, heavy with the sorrow and tension that Arashi carried in every breath he took. She froze in the doorway, her eyes widening at the sight of him.
Her master—her strong, steady, always-composed master—was unrecognizable. His clothes were damp, clinging to him as if he had been drenched in the sweat of his own turmoil, the energy he spent battling his rage and sadness evident in every line of his body. His face, usually so calm and collected, was red from the tears he had held back for too long, and his swollen eyes told the story of a man who had been broken by the weight of his own emotions.
Esme stood still for a moment, her heart aching as she took in the sight of Arashi in this vulnerable, fractured state. He was no longer the stoic figure she had always admired—he was a man, struggling to hold on, lost in the aftermath of everything he had gone through.
she whispered, her voice softer than she intended, but she didn’t know what else to say. Seeing him like this felt like a sharp contrast to the confident, unwavering man she had known. And, for a moment, she hesitated, not sure whether to give him space or to step forward and offer comfort.
Arashi’s voice was a soft rasp, barely more than a whisper, as he turned toward Esme. It was the only thing he could manage, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. He didn’t want to face her, not like this. Not when he was so broken. The calm, composed man she had always known felt so far from reach now.
He didn’t want to explain. He didn’t want to say anything at all, but the silence between them was thick, almost suffocating. His gaze flickered back to the cold, empty bento box, as if that could somehow hide the vulnerability he had never shown Esme before.
Esme, standing in the doorway, could see it all. The weight of everything he was holding inside, the rawness of his emotions that had once been so well-guarded. She took a step forward, not rushing, giving him the space he still needed, but showing him that she wasn’t going anywhere.
Her eyes softened, and for the first time, Arashi could feel the gentleness in her gaze. She wasn’t expecting him to be anything other than what he was in this moment—broken, lost, in pain.
Arashi took a deep breath, struggling to steady himself. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, trying to push the lingering pain down, but it was obvious that the cracks in his composure were too wide to hide.
His voice was rough, strained, and he looked away for a moment, unable to meet Esme’s gaze. The words felt like a weight, a shameful admission, as though he had failed to uphold the stoic facade he always prided himself on.
He exhaled shakily and added,
He didn’t even look at her as he said it, his hand resting on the edge of the workbench, knuckles white.
With a quiet sigh, he turned slightly, looking toward the door. "You could stay here, Esme." His tone was neither dismissive nor inviting—it was a quiet request, more of a suggestion than a command. He didn’t want to be alone, but at the same time, he couldn’t bear to show anyone the depth of his brokenness.
The silence that followed hung heavy in the air. Esme could feel the weight of his words, the distance he tried to put between them, but there was nothing cold about the way he spoke. He wasn’t pushing her away; he was simply retreating into himself, unsure of how to move forward.
Esme watched him, her heart heavy with unspoken feelings. As Arashi moved about, his presence still overwhelming in the room, she couldn’t hold it in anymore. A soft, almost involuntary escaped her lips, the moan a mixture of frustration and desire, something she couldn’t suppress despite herself.
she whispered, her voice strained, caught between wanting to comfort him and feeling a pull that she didn’t want to admit.
Arashi responded lazily, as if her emotions barely registered in his weary state, too consumed by his own pain to notice.
Esme swallowed, forcing herself to control the heat inside her. she managed, the words feeling distant as she tried to suppress everything she was feeling. Her lips were bitten tight, the tension thick between them.
Arashi, still not fully facing her, gave a short response.
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His words, carefree and detached, only fueled her inner turmoil. Esme stood there, feeling the fire inside her build, but she forced herself to stay composed, knowing that now wasn’t the time.
As Arashi sped away in his 1995 Honda Civic SiR-II EG6, the sound of the engine fading into the distance, Esme let out a quiet sigh. The disappointment settled heavily in her chest, but there was something almost foolish about the feeling, as if she had been hoping for something she knew wasn’t going to happen.
She leaned against the workbench, her gaze following the car as it disappeared, a bittersweet heaviness filling her. He’s broken, she thought to herself. I know something inside him has cracked, and yet… Her breath caught slightly, her mind betraying her wishes. She had hoped, even just for a fleeting moment, that he would turn around, that in his pain, he might reach out to her. That he might devour me, she thought, feeling both ashamed and longing at the same time.
she murmured to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. The words tasted bitter, but they were the truth. She had allowed herself to believe that in his moment of vulnerability, Arashi would see her, truly see her—not just as someone to heal him, but as someone he could turn to when everything else was lost.
But the reality hit hard. He was lost in his own world of pain and regret, and Esme’s desires couldn’t change that. She felt foolish, torn between the need to help him and the ache in her own heart, realizing that her feelings, no matter how strong, might never be returned in the way she wanted.
Meanwhile in her crampy rent, Lana sat in the warm water of the bath, the steam rising around her, but it did nothing to ease the weight on her chest. Her hands trembled as they gripped the edge of the tub, her body sinking deeper into the comforting heat, yet the pain inside her felt cold, almost suffocating. She held back her tears, forcing herself to breathe, to stay composed.
I can’t break down now, she told herself, but the thought only made her heart ache more. Her mind kept drifting back to Arashi—his face, his words, the finality of his rejection. She had pushed him away, yes, but it didn’t make the hurt any less.
She had lost him, and now, she was left with the emptiness. What did I do? Her body tensed as she tried to suppress the sorrow that threatened to spill over.
Lana knew what had to come next. Tonight, I have to perform. The thought of it made her stomach churn. Velvet Juice was the last place she wanted to be, but she had no choice. Her car was broken, and her dreams of racing had evaporated. She was desperate. The race track was no longer her escape; the job she hated had become her only lifeline.
But as much as she needed the money, she couldn’t ignore the truth: it was this job that had led to the heartbreak. The very thing that sustained her was also what had torn her apart. The men, the money—it had all become a vicious cycle. She had convinced herself that she could separate the two, but now, she understood that she couldn’t.
Her body trembled with a mix of anger and regret as she slowly stood from the tub, the warmth of the water now a reminder of everything she had sacrificed. This is who I am now. This is all I have left.
She reached for a towel, wrapping it around her as she looked at herself in the mirror, her reflection staring back at her—tired, broken, yet still holding on to some flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, things could change.
She wiped away the remnants of her tears, still in front of the mirror, though they still lingered, threatening to spill over again. Her eyes were bloodshot; her face weary from the internal battle she’d been fighting for so long.
As she stared at herself, the words she had been holding back for so long slipped out, barely above a whisper.
she murmured to the mirror, as though her reflection could somehow carry her confession to him.
Her voice trembled, the weight of everything she had tried to bury pressing down on her She spoke the words as a vow, a painful truth she could no longer deny. Her heart still belonged to him, despite the distance, despite the mistakes. The love she had for him hadn’t disappeared—it had only grown stronger, even in the wake of everything they had been through.
Lana took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself, knowing the reality of what she had to face tonight. But her love for Arashi would never fade, no matter how much time passed or how far they drifted apart.
Back to Arashi’s garage… Esme sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers gripping the edge tightly as she tried to steady herself. The room felt unbearably warm, though she knew it wasn’t the air—it was the fire inside her. Her body ached, her skin tingling with an insistent need that wouldn’t let her rest. Her thoughts were consumed by him—Arashi.
She could see him in her mind, his strong, rough hands, the way they moved with confidence and control. She imagined them gripping her waist, pulling her close, holding her firmly yet tenderly. Her breath hitched as her mind wandered further, picturing his sturdy arms wrapping around her, making her feel small and safe, yet igniting a heat so overwhelming she could barely breathe.
Her thighs pressed together as the thought deepened, a warmth spreading between her legs, undeniable now. She bit her lip hard, trying to shake the images, but it only made them more vivid—the way his hands would feel, the weight of his embrace, the warmth of his chest against hers.
she hissed, her voice breaking as she stood abruptly, pacing the room. Her body felt like it was betraying her, the heat overwhelming, flooding her senses. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she grabbed a glass of water, hoping for some relief. She drank it down in one go, but it didn’t help. The thirst wasn’t for water, and she knew it.
Her legs felt weak as she sat back down, running her hands through her hair in frustration. The heat wasn’t subsiding; it was building, washing over her in waves. Her mind couldn’t stop replaying the idea of his touch, his strength, his body pressed against hers. She swallowed hard, feeling the wetness soaking her panties, her need for him a flood she couldn’t contain.
Time ticked to 10 P.M., and the night carried on with heavy hearts in different corners of the city. At The Rusty Block, Arashi sat hunched over the bar, the amber glow of the lights casting shadows on his tired face. He had lost count of how many beers and whiskeys he had downed. Each sip burned, but it dulled the sharp edges of his pain. It was easier this way—numbing himself in the haze of alcohol than facing the whirlwind of emotions waiting to consume him.
Meanwhile, across town, Lana dashed into her changing room at Velvet Juice, her heels clicking sharply on the floor. Her chest heaved as she fought to compose herself, the weight of the night ahead pressing down on her. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, a facade of confidence masking the broken woman underneath. The job felt heavier than ever, but she needed the money, no matter how much it tore at her soul.
Back at the garage, Esme wandered restlessly through the lobby, her steps uneven and her mind clouded. The heat inside her hadn’t faded; if anything, it had only grown worse, gnawing at her resolve. She glanced around, her eyes scanning the familiar space, hoping for a distraction. And then, something caught her eye—the purple Fairlady Z33.
The connecting rods sat neatly beside it, the parts waiting for attention. A flicker of relief crossed her mind as she grabbed them, her hands brushing over the tools nearby. Her breath quickened, but this time it wasn’t from the heat coursing through her; it was the thought of work, of something tangible she could pour herself into.
In a desperate attempt to fight her desire, she pulled on her mechanic suit, zipping it up with trembling hands. She tied her hair back and set up her workspace, gripping the tools tightly, as if they could ground her. She needed something to anchor her mind, to drown out the storm of emotions swirling inside her.
The night pressed on, each of them consumed by their own battles. The garage lights flickered slightly as Esme knelt beside the car, determined to focus on the task at hand, even as her body betrayed her with its lingering want.
Time dragged on, and the city’s streets grew quieter under the cloak of the early morning. Arashi’s EG6 roared through the darkness, the engine screaming as he pushed the car harder than he should, the alcohol still thick in his veins. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his jaw clenched, his thoughts a chaotic mess. The drive was reckless, his emotions driving him just as much as the car itself.
By sheer luck or some unseen grace, he made it back to the garage without incident. The tires screeched slightly as he pulled into the lot, the headlights cutting through the stillness before shutting off. He sat there for a moment, hands still gripping the wheel, his heart racing, though whether it was from the drive or his inner turmoil, he didn’t know.
Inside the garage, Esme was still hunched over her work, her mechanic suit streaked with grease, her hair tied messily back. She had buried herself in the task of fixing the Fairlady Z33, her hands moving with precision, though her mind wandered back to Arashi every few moments.
Then, she heard it—the unmistakable growl of Arashi’s EG6 engine. Her heart jumped, a thrill coursing through her veins as she straightened up. The sound stirred something in her, a mix of excitement and the heat she had been trying to suppress all night.
A sly, almost frantic smile spread across her face as she whispered to herself
She pulled off her gloves, tossing them onto the workbench as she stood, her body buzzing with anticipation. She could hear his footsteps approaching, heavy and uneven, and every nerve in her body seemed to ignite.
The tension reached a fever pitch as Esme hastily put her crop top, taking off her bra from beneath the crop top and throw it away to the Z33’s engine below its hood. Her hands shook slightly, her breathing unsteady as the anticipation swelled inside her. A streak of grease stained her cheek, a mark of her long hours at work, but she didn’t care. She was ready—or so she thought.
The sound of heavy, uneven steps broke her thoughts, and as Arashi stumbled into the garage, her heart skipped a beat. She froze, her plan to take control unraveling in an instant. His gaze, clouded by alcohol and longing, pierced through her, though his expression was unreadable. There was a desperation in the way he moved, unsteady yet purposeful, his steps closing the distance between them with an almost predatory intent.
he whispered, his voice low and slurred. The words sent a shockwave through Esme, her body paralyzed as the heat surged to the surface. Her mind raced, her lips parted, but no coherent thought could escape. To her, this was a moment she had dreamed of, but she couldn’t know the truth—the blurred lines in Arashi’s mind had replaced her with someone else. To him, Esme wasn’t Esme. She was Lana, the woman he couldn’t stop longing for, even with his senses dulled by the strongest liquor.
Esme gasped, a soft, involuntary sound as Arashi’s hands gripped her waist firmly. He lifted her with ease, the strength in his arms igniting her body further as he carried her toward her room. She felt like prey in his grasp, helpless against the overpowering force of his presence. The scent of alcohol clung to him, mingling with the heat radiating from her, creating a heady mixture that only added fuel to the fire within her.
Across town at Velvet Juice, Lana found herself fully immersed in the circumstances she had chosen. Her body was entwined with five men, each of them taking their turn with her, their payment for the night totaling a hefty fifteen grand. She had convinced herself that this was just another job, another way to survive in a world that had left her feeling broken and lost. Yet, as the night progressed, the lines between duty and her own reality began to blur.
Her body responded instinctively, the physical pleasure rising despite the emotional turmoil underneath. Each touch, each impalement into her skin, sent waves through her, but her mind was somewhere far away, anchored to a man who wasn’t there. It was an act of survival, but it felt more like surrender—a surrender to something she couldn’t fully escape.
Her thoughts drifted, and no matter how much she tried to focus on the task at hand, they always returned to Arashi. Every thrust, every sensation burned through her like a painful reminder of him. She clung desperately to the memory of his love, replaying the moments when his touch was tender, his words soft, his love for her all-consuming. In the haze of it all, her heart ached for him, the man she truly wanted, the one who had pushed her away.
Lana closed her eyes, shutting out the reality of where she was and who she was with. She let herself sink into the memory of him, imagining that each touch belonged to Arashi, that it was his hands on her body, his presence consuming her. She didn’t want to face the truth of her situation—it was easier, safer, to lose herself in the illusion of love, even if it was fleeting.
This was how she endured, how she survived the night. Her body moved on instinct, her mind locked onto the one thing that kept her grounded: Arashi. But as the night dragged on, she couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever truly escape this cycle, or if she would always be haunted by the love she had destroyed and the man she had lost.
TO BE CONTINUED.
