Interlude: Comparing Notes
I first realized I loved women’s bodies when I was a first-year in high school.
The university student who came to my house as my tutor — from the very first time I saw her, I thought she was impossibly lovely.
Twice a week, she’d come to my house. With my brother already out on his own, and my father too busy with work to come home properly, it was always just the two of us, alone.
I don’t know whether she was gay, the same way I was.
I’d simply fallen for her, and told her so, straight and without hesitation. When I learned the feeling was mutual, I felt like I was floating somewhere in heaven.
We never studied at the desk. I’d whisper love at her, pin her down, while she tried, every time, half-heartedly, to scold me back into working — and we spent nearly all our time together on the bed instead.
Since I was on track for internal promotion anyway, I told myself studying didn’t even matter.
Because she was four years older than me, and she’d graduate the same year I started college.
That’s what I’d thought. But when she suggested I take the entrance exams for the same university, I changed my whole path without a second thought. That’s how much I loved her.
*
Even now, there’s a memory I still see in dreams. My eighteenth birthday. The day my father told me about the engagement.
I could never bring myself to tell the father who’d raised me alone that I loved women. I still remember, vividly, the ache of my own palms, gripped tight in my lap.
If I told him, maybe he’d accept it. But what if he didn’t?
Same-sex marriage isn’t legal in Japan right now. Naturally, no children either. Would he really accept it, without opposing it at all? I couldn’t even imagine it.
Would this only hurt my father more? He’d already lost my mother, already broken things with Yuki-nii — he had to be carrying such deep regret over both already.
I understood that marriage was simply something I had to accept. My parents, my grandparents — they’d all married this way, for generation after generation.
Maybe my troubled expression showed. My father spoke to me, gently, as if trying to reassure me.
“Yui, I know this might feel complicated right now. But don’t worry. Your mother and I had a marriage our parents arranged too, and we genuinely loved each other. I was truly happy, being able to spend my life with her. So you’ll definitely find happiness too, Yui.”
Once he’d said that — there was nothing left I could say.
*
When I told her I’d gotten engaged, she smiled, complicated.
I hadn’t wanted to lie to her. And besides, marriage was still so far off, so I hadn’t given it much serious thought.
To eighteen-year-old me, graduating college, becoming a working adult, and then some promise even further beyond that — it felt like some impossibly distant future, too far away to even imagine.
It’s fine, there’s still time. We can still stay together. I genuinely believed that.
Why couldn’t I understand — that to her, a fourth-year student, that future was already bearing down on her, close, real?
That immaturity, I think, was the real reason I lost her.
*
I loved the taste of her tinted lipstick, the softness of a woman’s body. The way her fingers, clinging to me, dug into my back through my blouse — I loved that unbearably too.
We’d promised to date, but all we’d ever actually done was have sex.
There was almost nothing a high schooler like me could actually do for her.
I wanted to do everything I possibly could for her. I wished, desperately, to grow up faster.
Even believing that, the night she left me, strangely, no tears came at all.
*
That day. I remember it, being told, through tears, that it was over.
“You and I don’t match, Yui-chan.”
Don’t match — in what way? I just watched, silent, as tears spilled from those eyes I’d loved so much, without even wiping them away.
Ah, I see. So I can’t make this person happy.
Well, that made sense. Nobody chooses a love with an expiration date, no promise of a future, willingly.
It felt like reality had been shoved straight in my face.
I’d always been quick to understand things, even as a kid. I didn’t chase after her as she walked away, so easily.
Spilled water doesn’t return to the tray. There’s nothing to be done about it now.
I learned, painfully, exactly how much weight the word “engagement” actually carried.
She’d said, so many times, that she loved me — and yet she left this easily. Maybe her feelings had never been that strong to begin with.
I’d thought we’d have more time together. I never imagined a goodbye this abrupt could come.
*
Despite barely studying at all, I passed my target school’s entrance exam easily. I hadn’t been especially happy about it — I’d figured, if I failed, I could just take the internal promotion instead.
What was even the point, entering a university without her in it?
Hollow, empty, I let Shinji take me to a jewelry shop to celebrate passing my exams, and there, he gave me an engagement ring.
*
The moment that ring slid onto the ring finger of the hand I’d used to love her, I cursed, for the first time, the fact that I was left-handed.
I probably can’t stop loving women. It’s not that Shinji’s a bad person. But I simply cannot love a man, no matter what.
I don’t know the reason. It’s just how I was, from the moment I was born. Born this way. Not something I ever chose.
Even while looking at the engagement ring given to me, I found myself imagining, instead, a future where I bought one for someone else, someday.
The desire to give is always so much stronger in me than the desire to receive.
Even with rings — I’d rather buy one than be given one. Sex, too. I’d rather hold someone than be held.
Pushing away Shinji when he tried to kiss me, telling him, in a moment of desperation, that I didn’t want anything like that until we were actually married — it wasn’t as if I felt no guilt over any of that.
But surely, a little of this could be forgiven.
Just these four years of college, being allowed to be my real self — the one who loves women.
In exchange, I swore firmly to myself: never again would I let myself have a girlfriend.
—That pale blue box Shinji gave me, I’ve never once opened it since.
Someday, I thought, I’d like to give something like that to someone myself. But since that will surely never come true, I bought myself a necklace in a red box instead. That, always, was my own vow to myself.
*
Once I started college, I stopped hiding that I was gay. Far more girls than I ever expected came flocking toward me, and it startled me.
As long as they didn’t want anything complicated, any cute girl would do. Repeating it over and over, the pain slowly turned into nothing but memory.
It didn’t hurt anymore.
A love that couldn’t even be called love had ended, and I sank down to the very bottom of a deep, deep sea.
Four years of college would surely pass in the blink of an eye.
Only a little longer left, being able to touch women’s bodies.
*
Right as I was about to become a third-year, my father called me. He said there was a girl he wanted to live with me.
The daughter of a friend of his. Set to enter the same university that spring. I had a spare room, so I said sure, why not.
The moment I went to the airport and met Kanata for the first time, I thought — you’ve got to be kidding.
Nobody told me someone this cute was coming.
Living four years with this girl is going to be genuinely rough, I thought.
Someday my bad habits would come to light. Imagining how she’d react, when that day came, scared me, just a little.
*
I’d sworn so firmly to myself — no serious love, not ever again. And that vow crumbled apart, embarrassingly easily.
Her smile, so cute. That prickly exterior, hiding someone who secretly wanted to be spoiled. The sweet edge in her voice whenever she wanted something. The way she’s just a little too stubborn to be honest. All of it — unbearably, endlessly precious to me.
She tried, genuinely, seriously, to know me. Tried to sit with my pain, close beside it.
Me, sunk at the very bottom of that deep, deep sea — Kanata pulled me up, so easily.
Earnest, sincere, the exact opposite of me.
She tried, with everything she had, to see straight into the depths of my heart, built up thin and hollow out of lies and deflection.
I fell in love with that Kanata.
Just one word from her — don’t go — and I couldn’t move a single step from that spot.
I was genuinely, deeply grateful this girl was straight. An unrequited love was enough. If this love ever actually came true, I don’t think I’d ever be able to recover, not this time.
If I could just build happy memories with her, I felt like I could keep living, no matter what came after.
I thought — Kanata must be some final gift, from God, to someone as pitiable as me.
I wasn’t greedy enough to want her heart too. It was enough that I loved her — it didn’t matter if she didn’t love me back.
*
But really, I already knew. Kanata was different from every other girl.
I shouldn’t have touched her. Even if our feelings connected, someday, without fail, a day would come when I’d hurt her.
Happy now, sure. But a day would come when I’d make this girl I love so much cry.
So, if I truly loved her, I shouldn’t have done any of it.
I knew all of it. Every single bit.
But once I’d touched her, just once, there was no going back. After that, it was like tumbling off a cliff — my feelings just kept swelling, growing, dragging pain along with them the whole way down.
I couldn’t help but love her. Even knowing that this unfaithfulness of mine would wound her, deeply.
I wanted to give Kanata everything I had, right now, all of it.
I’ve never once regretted loving women. But I’ve wondered, over and over, what future I might have drawn, if I’d simply been born into different circumstances.
Just watching her sleeping face beside me was enough to fill me completely.
If you were there beside me, waking up tomorrow, I wouldn’t need anything else at all.
*
I was supposed to be the type who understood things quickly.
The day Kanata left. Ritsu asked me, dragging me practically by force to the airport — was I really sure I shouldn’t stop her? — and once we got there, my legs simply gave out, and I couldn’t move at all.
Understanding things quickly — that was a lie. Saying it didn’t matter if she never loved me back — that was an enormous lie.
I was terrified. Terrified of being hurt any further, and terrified of hurting her any further too. Terrified, unbearably.
I love her, I love her so much, and yet even if I chased after her, held her back — right now, there’s nothing I can actually do.
I can’t even give her a promise.
Kanata isn’t gay. This happened because of me. Because I fell in love with Kanata. I twisted someone pure, warped her, entirely for my own sake.
I was far too selfish. My own selfishness wounded her, deeply.
Because I’d allowed myself to wish, even briefly, for a little happiness of my own.
Kanata is different from me.
I shouldn’t chase her any further. It would only hurt her more.
I know that. So why, even now, am I standing here, hopeless, watching the plane fly away?
The hand still gripping the returned necklace aches.
My vision blurred, and I realized — I was crying.
What an idiot, I thought, even of myself. Crying like this, and I can’t even properly watch the plane carrying her away disappear.
A hard slap landed on my back.
“…What are you crying for, over one measly heartbreak. Karma, for all the girls you’ve made cry, up till now.”
Ritsu’s voice, gentle despite her usual sharp tongue, reached me. I braced my collapsing body with whatever scraps of pride I had left.
*
I know.
Spilled water doesn’t return to the tray. There’s nothing to be done about it now.
There were so many words I actually wanted to say to her.
Over and over, I swallowed them back, swallowed them back, and poured every last bit of feeling I had into that single word — “I love you” — every time I said it.
Not a single part of that feeling was ever a lie.
It felt so pathetic, tears came. I hated my own helplessness, unbearably, for being unable to do a single thing.
If God ever gave me just one more chance—
I’d do anything. I swear I would never hurt that girl again.
If we ever meet again, someday — then, surely—