Episode 7: Do You Want Something? You Have to Tell Me or I Won’t Know
How long had it been since I got back from drinks with Saeko.
I’d been slumped on the sofa for a while, not doing much of anything.
I’d definitely drunk a little too much. My head was thick and hazy, my body heavy.
From the open kitchen, Yuno called over.
“Hot milk? Do you want some?”
“No. I’d probably throw it up.”
“Water?”
“I had some just now, I’m fine.”
A little while later, Yuno came and settled herself neatly beside me on the sofa, both hands wrapped softly around a mug.
It’s a wide sofa, seats three comfortably — so there was a person’s width of space between us.
Just her fingers poking out from the oversized pajama sleeves, cradling the mug, Yuno drinking her hot milk in small sips.
Like a kitten, I thought, catching a sideways glance at her.
I was slumped against the sofa next to her, letting it hold me.
The soft, floating warmth of the alcohol and the sofa’s gentle give made it feel like my consciousness might dissolve right there.
“Big sis, you’re falling asleep.”
“Mnh.”
Oh no. Of all people.
Yuno had spoken up without warning and a stupid sound had come out of me.
I covered the embarrassment with a small, deliberate cough.
“…Hehe…”
Yuno pressed a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking quietly.
“What?”
I gave her a flat look and said it bluntly.
“Just — you were cute. Just now.”
Yuno said it through suppressed laughter, her drooping eyes warm and soft.
The curve of her profile, like that — something ached faintly, deep in my chest.
Then Yuno finished her hot milk, set the mug on the table, and resettled herself on the sofa.
And gave her own thigh a light pat. Once. Twice.
“Here.”
“Hm?”
“Here. Want to sleep?”
When I looked at her face, she had her head tilted to one side, eyes soft and narrowed, lips curved in a gentle arc.
A smile that was mischievous and somehow kind at the same time, something strangely hard to place.
For reasons I couldn’t explain — truly couldn’t explain —
Before I knew it, I had rolled over and laid my head in Yuno’s lap.
Something about that smile, I just couldn’t resist.
Maybe because of the alcohol.
Slender as she looked, her thighs were softer than I’d expected — my head sank into them slightly.
Lying on my back, I looked up, and my eyes met Yuno’s.
And for some reason, I couldn’t look away.
Yuno’s hand reached over, and slowly, gently, began to stroke my head. Softly. Softly.
Gazing down at my face the whole time.
Those enormous eyes, casting shadows with their lashes. Fine, white skin. A small nose. Lips, faintly moist, a soft pink.
Before I realized it, I was staring.
A calm, gentle expression.
Seeing her this close, properly — she really is pretty, I thought, vaguely. A lovely face.
And then, without meaning to, that night came back to me.
That night too, Yuno had been watching me steadily on the bed… and before I knew it, our lips had met.
Every time the memory of that kiss surfaced, something ached warmly, deep inside me.
I had no choice but to admit it: my body wanted it again.
But I can’t. I can’t say that.
I absolutely refuse to say it. It’s pathetic.
There is such a thing as dignity for someone senior like me.
And more than anything — I don’t want to fall in love again.
But my eyes kept drifting, helplessly, to Yuno’s soft, full lips.
And then I…
Before I realized it, my hand had reached toward Yuno’s lips. Completely without thinking.
I traced the pad of my index finger slowly along her lower lip.
My fingertip sank into a soft give.
Maybe because she’d done her skincare — moisturizer and lotion — Yuno’s lips, the instant I touched them, were unmistakably soft and dewy.
I let the pad of my thumb slide slowly from the right corner of her lower lip to the left, tracing the whole way.
A smooth, yielding texture that clung to my finger.
“What are you doing. That tickles.”
Yuno laughed, a soft huff. Her breath fell warm against my finger.
The corner of her mouth I’d been tracing lifted in a small curl.
Before I knew it, both my hands had cupped her face gently. My palms against the lotion-soft skin, a clinging warmth.
With both thumbs I pressed and kneaded at her soft lips, coaxing them open.
My fingers’ movement parted those pink lips slowly, like petals unfolding.
“What is it, big sis?”
Yuno spoke again, laughing softly.
A voice like a warm, gentle breeze — and yet sweet. Against my fingers resting at her lips, a slow vibration carried through.
“Do you want something? You have to tell me or I won’t know.”
A voice that was coaxing, and somehow a little forlorn.
And yet — lisping, slightly hoarse — it wound itself into the back of my ear and stayed there.
When I looked, the light had gone out of Yuno’s eyes. Behind those soft drooping eyes, a hazy sheen had settled in.
Still smiling, she tilted her head slowly — as if waiting quietly to see what I would do.
Their gazes held. A hush fell over the room.
I reached up and gently pinched Yuno’s narrow chin between my thumb and forefinger. And drew her face toward me.
Yuno’s breath, close enough to touch.
I could see my own face reflected in Yuno’s brown eyes.
Close. So close.
The tips of our noses touched. Our lips almost there.
— And in that moment.
I snapped back.
My heart gave one great thud, then started hammering. Every drop of blood in my body felt like it was rushing backward toward my heart.
What.
What, what, what.
I pulled my hand back from Yuno’s chin in an instant, and pushed her shoulders away.
What was I just about to do to Yuno?
The cold clarity of sobriety came rushing back all at once.
“I can’t. I’m drunk.”
I sat bolt upright, and muttered it in a voice barely audible, without waiting for Yuno’s reply, and practically fled to the bathroom.
With shaking hands I twisted the tap and plunged under a cold shower, full force.
Cold.
All at once, my head cleared. The fog of the alcohol, gone.
No. It was the alcohol. That’s all.
I always make bad decisions when I drink too much.
What was I doing just now. What was I thinking.
With a woman nearly ten years younger than me.
Just a housemate. That’s all she is.
The words I used to scold myself went around and around in my head.
And yet.
The feeling of Yuno’s lips, still faintly warm against the pads of my fingers, refused to fade.