Episode Thirty-Eight: Interlude 2
“Eh— why…?”
The closing chime rang out, and my faint voice dissolved into the noisy classroom.
I don’t care who might be listening. Right now I just want to know why.
Where did I go wrong. Was it my fault? The same unanswerable questions kept circling through my head without end.
If only I’d stopped Yuna. If only I’d told her how I felt first. If only I hadn’t invited her to the summer festival at all — then none of this would have happened.
The strength drained out of my body and I dropped into my chair. The sharp scrape of chair against floor rang out from the force of it.
Too loud. Every sound around me felt too loud, too unpleasant.
However many times I blinked, the edges of my vision stayed white and flickering. The hand gripping my phone trembled faintly, rattling softly against the desk.
I’d seen Yuna and Fuuka leave the classroom together. And more than that — I’d seen Fuuka pulling Yuna along by the hand.
Why? Isn’t Yuna in love with me? Yesterday she called me cute for the first time, and then she even kissed me. The way she ran must have just been panic — nerves, excitement, everything tangled together all at once. She still likes me. That’s what I’d believed. But maybe even that was wrong.
I felt cold sweat trickle down my temple. The classroom’s air conditioning was running, the room was cool, and my body had gone cold clear through. And yet the sweat wouldn’t stop.
“Nagai-san, you don’t look well… are you okay?”
I looked up at the tentative voice. Hajima-san — always quietly reading. I don’t think we’ve ever properly talked. For her to speak to me at all means I must not look normal right now.
“I’m… fine. Really. Thanks for worrying.”
“O— okay. Take care of yourself.”
Still wearing an awkward smile, Hajima-san gripped the strap of her bag and walked away.
“…Water.”
My throat was dry. My whole body kept asking for water. I’d run out, and I’d need to buy some on the way home.
Rattling the desk and chair as I stood, I pressed a hand to my mouth to keep down the lunch threatening to come back up, and left the classroom.
“…The worst.”
A sigh spilled out in front of the vending machine. I’d never once seen it sold out, and yet today of all days, the orange juice button read “Sold Out.”
If I’d had that cold, refreshing taste, I thought this pain might have eased a little. I bought water instead and took a sip. My throat wet, but nothing else. The ache stabbing at the back of my chest didn’t ease at all.
Under a sky thick with heavy clouds, I stopped again and again on the way to the station. Just walking slowly, and still my breath kept catching, and I nearly sat down in the street more than once.
If only there were a time machine. I could go back to April and do everything over. Slowly, carefully, telling her my feelings in a way that wouldn’t break her. If I had, maybe right now the two of us would be—
Not even bothering to wipe the tears running down my face, I got on my usual train and headed home. The stares from people around me were irritating, but crying wherever I wanted was my own business, and I wished they’d just leave me alone.
“…I’m home.”
I called it out toward a house that gave no answer. Yuna’s loafers weren’t there. Of course not. She’s out somewhere with Fuuka.
“…Why. Why, Yuna…”
Whatever feeling I’d thought had settled seems to have broken open again. Half-blind with tears, I climbed the stairs and pressed my forehead against Yuna’s door.
If only Yuna were on the other side of this door. If I opened it I’d know the answer instantly, and yet somehow I can’t. I think I’m just afraid of facing reality.
I left Yuna’s door and closed my own behind me, feebly. In a room quiet enough that not even the wind reached me, only the sound of my own sniffling fell into the silence.
I hugged the blanket Yuna had left behind to my chest and collapsed onto the bed. The blanket and cushion Yuna gave me. I think they’ll be a treasure for the rest of my life. To her it probably meant nothing, given without any particular reason — but to me, it’s the first gift she’s ever given me. Her scent, her warmth, none of it lingers in it anymore, but holding it somehow helps me sleep.
Yuna, who nursed me through my fever even at the cost of missing school. Yuna, who watched films and studied together with me. Every scene we’ve shared drifted past in my head.
Has Yuna come to hate me? She finally worked up the courage, and I couldn’t answer it properly. Maybe she’s given up on me entirely because of that.
If that’s really how it is, I wish she’d just tell me directly. Then I could give up too.
Could I, though. Clinging to a scrap of fabric she left behind like this — there’s no way someone like me could simply let go of a feeling this big, so quickly.
I thought my first love had finally come true. I thought I’d understood that Yuna loved me too.
What is she doing with Fuuka right now, I wonder. Walking home hand in hand from school, laughing together, kissing. Maybe even—
Crying loud enough that it might carry outside the house, I kept holding onto Yuna’s blanket.
I don’t think I can go back to who I was before. Once something’s broken, it can’t be fixed the way it was. It’s my own fault, for being too weak to do anything. I mustn’t resent Yuna, or Fuuka either. I should just forget everything and live quietly from here on.
Holding onto a hope I know is impossible, I kept soaking the pillow with tears.