Episode 8: Fear of Falling in Love ―August 2032―

The problem arose when it was time to sleep.

“This house isn’t set up for guests staying over, so there aren’t any futons for visitors. Therefore, Uehara-san, please use the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No, no, there aren’t any futons, right? How are you supposed to sleep on the floor?”

“I think stacking a few bath towels should soften it somewhat.”

“You’ll definitely get aches and pains! Come on, let’s sleep together. We’re both girls, it’s fine, right?”

Whether it was the idea of sleeping with a student or simply sharing a futon with another person, the teacher was quite reluctant, but I persuaded her to agree.

“…If you say so, Uehara-san, then let’s do that.”

“Yeah. I mean, you’re the homeowner, so don’t be shy.”

Saying that, I laughed and tried to charge my phone with a mobile battery, when another message arrived from Wataru. I kept ignoring the unread notifications, replying only to my friends.

　Sleeping in the same bed. Honestly, from the moment it was decided I’d stay at the teacher’s house, I’d anticipated this sort of development might happen. After all, the teacher doesn’t seem to have any friends. I couldn’t imagine anyone else visiting.

…Huh? Does Hisako-san never come to stay at this house? …Or is it just normal to sleep together when she does come to stay…?

　…Why did that feel so unsettling? I’d told the teacher myself just now. That it was fine, being girls.

Right, sleeping together isn’t a big deal at all. I’ve slept over at Ryōka’s or friends’ houses loads of times. Feeling flustered would be weird, like I had ulterior motives, that’s what I thought, so why?

“Please take the wall side, Uehara-san. Use the pillow too. I changed the cover, but does it bother you?”

“N-no, it’s absolutely fine. Don’t go out of your way like that. Just act normal.”

Even as I pretended it was nothing, my heart rate was skyrocketing. This is weird. Why? It’s completely different from when it’s Ryōka and the others, isn’t it?

I flopped down on the bed and immediately turned my body towards the wall. There was no way I could bear to look towards the teacher.

“I’ll turn off the light now.”

“Y-yes.”

　The moment the light was dimmed by the remote by the pillow, the bedroom plunged into complete darkness. I, who always slept with a small nightlight on, felt a little scared. I wanted to ask for the light to be turned back on, but I didn’t want to seem like a spoilt child, so I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

But I didn’t mind adjusting to the teacher’s habits. Thinking that I was becoming part of the teacher’s life made me feel like I could endure the fear.

“How are you finding the bed? I do hope you’re sleeping properly, Uehara-san.”

“It’s fine. I’m not the delicate type who can’t sleep on a different pillow.”

“Is that so? I’ve always thought of you as a rather sensitive person.”

“Really? I’m fine, I tell you. Oh, hey, isn’t it a bit of a waste to just go to sleep like this? Tell me something interesting.”

“That’s a bit much… Besides, didn’t you say you wanted to talk to me about something?”

I’d completely forgotten the little lie I’d told to come to the teacher’s house.

“Ah… yeah. Um…”

What should I do? What should I talk about? Should I joke around and cover it up with some trivial everyday story? Or talk seriously about my future plans or studies?

　…No, that’s not it. What I want to say will come out naturally.

“Sensei. I…”

I paused, taking a breath.

The reason I’d first become interested in Sensei was because I thought that by talking with someone who’d been holding onto a single-minded, unrequited love for so long, I might understand what it feels like to like someone.

So I wanted Sensei to listen. To understand.

　The darkness, the proximity where our skin could almost touch, my interest in you. And the simple desire for you to know more about me.

Everything came together just right, and I was pouring out feelings I couldn’t tell anyone else.

“Sensei. I… I’m scared of truly liking someone.”

All along, what lay at my core was pure fear.

　I’d never even tried telling Ryōka or my friends, convinced they wouldn’t understand. Yet here I was, sharing this feeling with someone for the very first time.

“Seeing people in love, I genuinely feel envious. There’s a space in my heart that only that can fill. And since we only live once, I still think it’d be awful to die without ever knowing. I still feel that way now.”

　The teacher remained silent, seemingly deep in thought. Realising I was being encouraged to continue, I slowly voiced the thoughts in my heart.

“My mum’s one of those unmarried mothers, you see. I never had a dad from the moment I was born. But Mum isn’t just not interested in men – she’s a total romantic. She’s getting on a bit now, but she’s never been without a boyfriend since I can remember.”

From the moment I became aware of things, how many men had Mum introduced me to?

　Some claimed they were just fun to be with, while others spoke of eventually marrying her. At first, I’d wonder, ‘Could this be the one who becomes my dad?’ and worry about not being disliked. But by the time I reached secondary school, I stopped even trying to remember men’s faces or names.

I’d come to see it as a waste of time and effort to be dragged along in Mum’s relationships, which never lasted long with any one person.

“When Mum’s relationship with her boyfriend was going well, she seemed in a good mood. But when it wasn’t, she’d get so upset it disrupted our daily life. She’d take it out on me, become resentful… I was going through my rebellious phase in secondary school too, so we were always arguing.”

“…And what is your relationship with your mother like now?”

“Hm? Now I only speak to her when she’s not in a foul mood, so we get on well. I steer clear when Mum’s in a rage. You know I’m good at reading people’s expressions, don’t you, sensei?”

Even when I chuckled lightly, seeking agreement, the teacher didn’t even offer a nod. She could just feign sympathy, but I think she’s rather poor at communicating with others.

But it’s precisely because she’s that sort of teacher that I’m talking to her like this.