Everyday Life - Hanamori Chisa Doesn’t Want to Go Home
A certain Thursday, five in the evening.
I shut down my computer and tidy up around my desk. That’s it for work today.
I sneak a glance at Asami-san, diagonally across from me. She’s locked in a staring contest with her computer screen, a difficult expression on her face.
She’s been handed a fairly heavy project and looks like she’s in for more overtime today.
That woman’s such a pushover, she takes on anything the moment someone asks. Seems rough, I think… well, not that I’m planning to help.
“Good work, everyone~”
I call out to the staff still around and leave the sales floor.
What should I do now.
Asami-san’s place… I want to go.
But I went yesterday. And the day before that too.
Isn’t this a bit much, going that often…
My nearest station and Asami-san’s nearest station sit one stop apart from the office, in opposite directions.
I hesitate over which train to take… and end up hopping on the one headed toward Asami-san’s place anyway.
Click.
I let myself into Asami-san’s apartment with the spare key.
One month since we started dating. I’ve mostly figured out where everything is by now.
I borrow a sweatshirt from Asami-san’s closet. About one size too big.
Smells nice.
Slipping my arms through, I’m wrapped in Asami-san’s scent, faint and soft. That particular smell, sweetness and freshness mixed together.
I love the smell of the fabric softener Asami-san uses.
I ended up buying the same one for myself without even meaning to.
I sink into the sofa, sprawled out, idly scrolling my phone.
Before I know it, I’ve pulled both sleeves up to my face, pressing them right against my nose. Like I’m getting drunk on Asami-san’s scent, I breathe in slowly, deeply.
Shh… haah… Smells so good. One more time. Shh… haah… My cheeks go slack. I want to just stay buried in this forever. Just one more time… shh…
“What are you doing?”
A voice drops down from behind the sofa. Asami-san, peering down at me curiously.
Ugh, the worst. Did she see that just now? She totally saw that.
I can feel my face heating up all at once from embarrassment and panic.
“Ha? Eh? Nothing, really? Nothing at all.”
Asami-san, taking off her suit jacket, laughs, exasperated.
“You came again? Third day in a row.”
“Because you looked like you wanted me to.”
“Huh? I did not.”
“You totally did. And honestly, you look super happy right now too.”
There we go again with this bickering. Like elementary schoolers. This exchange, though — it’s fun. Comfortable.
“You haven’t eaten yet, right? I’ll throw something together.”
Asami-san calls over, rolling up her shirt sleeves.
“Pleeease.”
I answer without moving from where I’m sprawled on the sofa, scrolling my phone.
“No offer to help, or anything like that?”
“I don’t know my way around someone else’s kitchen.”
“Ugh. Seriously. Well, wasn’t expecting it from you anyway.”
Asami-san gives a wry laugh. Sighing, grumbling a little, she still whips up pasta and salad with practiced ease.
We eat dinner together, trading idle chatter — work complaints, thoughts on a drama, weekend plans.
After dinner, we sit side by side in front of the low table, doing nothing in particular.
I scroll through short-video reels on my phone. Asami-san has some web drama playing, half-watching.
A quiet stretch of time. It used to make me nervous, at first, but lately I think even that’s become comfortable.
Asami-san’s showered, fully in off-duty mode. Loose loungewear, contacts out, glasses on.
At the office she only ever shows her put-together, suited-up side, so this gap still catches me off guard, makes my heart skip. Asami-san’s real face — something only I know.
Asami-san shifts closer, casually.
I shift closer too.
Before I know it, our shoulders are pressed together.
I settle myself down right between Asami-san’s knees. Then, from behind, an arm slowly wraps around my waist. Pulled into a tight hug, her chin resting on my shoulder.
My shoulder gets a little heavier. But I don’t mind that weight at all.
Asami-san’s breath whispers against my ear, my neck. Warmth seeps in slowly from her body against my back. A feeling like our two temperatures are melting into one.
My heartbeat is loud. To distract myself from the pounding, I reach for the café au lait on the low table.
One sip, two. A sweet, faintly bitter taste seeps down to my very core, warming me from the inside.
I thought, this is happiness.
Wrapped tight in the arms of someone I love, drinking the café au lait she made for me, idly watching TV. This kind of nothing-special, tiny stretch of time is unbearably precious.
While I’m thinking that, Asami-san’s voice drops down from behind me.
“Ugh… this is bad. You’re seriously so cute.”
“…Happy.”
I murmur it quietly, and she hugs me even tighter than before.
Asami-san’s breath falls against my neck, her voice a little hoarse. Ticklish, sweet, and a little bittersweet — my chest fills up.
Happy. I found myself envying how naturally Asami-san can say a word like that out loud.
“Good for you.”
Even though I’m feeling the exact same thing. It’s just too embarrassing to say out loud. I end up putting on a brave face and only that flat, distant kind of line comes out.
“You’re totally thinking it too, Hanamori-san.”
She teases me like that.
*
It’s almost ten at night.
Work again tomorrow. I should head home.
But this space, this time, is so comfortable my body won’t move.
“Don’t want to go home. Even though there’s work tomorrow.”
My real feelings slip out before I can stop them.
The moment I say it, I realize my own ears have gone bright red.
Asami-san gently strokes my head. Then, right by my neck, drops a quiet word.
“Come again tomorrow, then.”
Her voice is a little more clingy than usual. That’s cute, and it makes me happy — something deep in my chest warms with a sharp little pull.
“…I’ll think about it.”
I put on a brave face again, answering that way.
But honestly, I’ll probably end up here again tomorrow, and the day after that too.
Wrapped in Asami-san’s scent, touched by her warmth and kindness, to spend a stretch of time this happy.