When I parted my eyelids the next morning, Igarashi's face was inches from mine. Less than inches, really. Closer to centimetres, actually.
In one fluid movement, my soul had departed from my body. It took a pulsating heartbeat for me to process Igarashi was indeed there, and not a figment of my imagination, and for yesterday's memories to come creeping back.
I'd spent the night. Didn't feel like much of one. Between watching movies, snacking, singing along to Mortal Mania albums, playing few notes on Igarashi's piano, and him letting me hear a snippet of his newest composition, time passed in a whirlpool of fun. The last thing I could remember was fiddling with Zelda: Breath of the Wild on his Nintendo Switch. I must've fallen asleep amidst that. However, considering the gaming console was no longer in my hands, and I was covered in a warm blanket, Igarashi must've been the cause.
That still didn't explain why we were so close. Did he fall asleep right after me? If he did, there was no need to do so right next to me. Let alone share the same blanket. I could literally feel his body heat.
Even first thing in the morning, every inch of my skin burned, and my lungs constricted. My pulse was an erratic, haywire jumble as well.
Knowing this idiot, he probably did it without thinking. Still, there had to be some lines you couldn't cross. I knew he didn't see me as a girl—and as a girl, I was very offended by his lack of tact—but this was way too much to wake up to. Then again, I was the one who inadvertently sealed my fate the moment I allowed myself to crash here. . . It was his house. Technically, he could rest wherever he wanted. As a freeloader, I shouldn't be too picky.
Despite that. . . When he was all quiet like this, it was kind of refreshing. He never shut up otherwise. Possibly because of this predicament, I couldn't help but unintentionally admire his sleeping countenance. In the past, with one simple glimpse, anger and frustration clouded my vision. Yet, now, amidst this suspended interval, those emotions were the last things bubbling within me.
His firm cheekbones. Thick eyelashes. Silky hair and skin.
The morning sunlight illuminating the room highlighted his features one by one. Since I'd never looked at him from so close before, I never really noticed how defined his face was. Recalling the hug we shared yesterday, and the texture of his palm in mine previously, I squeezed my eyelids shut.
He really was a boy.
I was so used to looking down at him and comparing him to itsy-bitsy organisms, but that fact was genuine. Short or not, he was as banal as boys got. Yet, here I was, letting myself be all vulnerable around him.
Why did the jerk make it so easy? He let me forget all my troubles. Cheered me up with that goofy smile of his alone. Understood the parts of me nobody else could. Only a few months ago, we were at each others' throats. I wished for him to disappear off the face of the planet—to never have to listen to or see him again. But, now, simply imagining that reality. . . crushed my soul.
I was supposed to hate him.
Didn't I hate him?
A click in the distance transferred me from my thoughts. I was helpless when upbeat hums resounded afterward.
"Toru! I let myself in, he he. I knew you'd sleep in since it's Saturday, but I came to cook for you regardless!"
Koshiba?!
My body shut down.
Oh hell no.
I lurched upward. At least, I tried to. Igarashi's arm was snaked around mine, keeping me tightly constrained to the ground.
This little. . . !
"Hmm? You're not in your room?" Koshiba's voice lofted. Flickers of light switches and doors opening and closing grew louder. "Where are you?"
"Igarashi," I hissed, desperately.
Her footfalls padded closer.
"Igarashi."
By will of the heavens alone, his grip loosened. But only for a millisecond. In the next, his hand was on the back of my head, and my face was propelled into his chest. The blanket fluttered over my head afterward, perfectly concealing me.
Any and all thoughts of Koshiba disappeared from my mind.
The butterflies in my stomach flapped their wings to the turbulent beat of my heart. I couldn't formulate a proper breath—a coherent thought—and uncontrollable heat enveloped my face.
"Stop squirming." His groggy tone sent shivers up my spine. "She'll hear you."
Oxygen no longer entered my lungs.
That was so dirty. He was awake—most likely had been for a while—yet remained that close to me purposefully. Why? Obliviousness? Idiocy? Both?
I was ogling at him for a good couple of minutes, too. Did he notice? He had to have noticed!
Not that this predicament was any less embarrassing. He was way too close. His body heat, the sensation of his skin, the scent of detergent. . .
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
Slow down, heart. I shouldn't be dealing with this. There was a bigger issue at hand.
Koshiba was seconds away from walking inside this room.
Although that in itself was a petrifying notion, there were more important problems.
I, a classmate—a girl—was currently at Igarashi's house at an unspeakable hour. Within the same room as him, for that matter.
Did I mention we were somewhat cuddling? Because we were. I was currently dying of a heart attack, thanks for asking.
Koshiba was going to kill me.
"This is the complete opposite situation from last time."
Not sharing in my panic, Igarashi was mellow. I couldn't tell if it was because he was still half-asleep, or ignorant. Maybe he was just speaking lowly enough Koshiba couldn't hear.
"That day I asked you to hide me from her," he murmured onward. "I was terrified of what she'd do if she saw us together. You knew nothing at that moment, not even that much, but you had my back."
Why was he reminiscing? At a time like this? "If she sees this, she's murdering us both."
"Whatever. It's too late to cover our tracks anyway. We'll just explain the situation to her."
"I-If you're going to explain it to her anyway, there's no point in us being so close!"
"I'm cold."
My blush deepened. "I-I don't care. Let go."
"I did you so many favours yesterday, and you won't do me one in return?"
"Th-this and that are two different things! Besides, if you're cold, you should've grabbed another blanket. Here. I'll get one for you."
He clutched me tighter, erasing my chances.
"If you can free yourself from me, be my guest."
I was losing my sanity.
"D-do you want her to get the wrong idea?"
"About what?"
"U-us!"
Why was he making me spell it out? He was messing with me.
I could hear his smirk in his voice. "You sound oddly flustered, Kisaragi."
Who did he think I had to thank for that?!
As badly as I wanted to free myself and smack him upside the head, time had run out on us. The living room door creaked open, and in entered livid stomps that nearly shattered the ground itself.
"Toru, why am I hearing two voices?" Despite the sweet-sounding tone, Koshiba's seeping animosity was evident. "I also found a pair of musty shoes by the doors. Is someone with you?"
Musty?! Excuse me!
"As far as I'm aware, cats can't wear shoes nor can they speak human language. Not to mention your parents' allergy, so that rules out a feline keeping you company. . ."
She planted her feet directly behind me, towering over us. To her, though, Igarashi's face was the only one visible.
"Keiko, put down the knife."
My blood ran cold.
The what?
"After I discover who you're hiding," she responded, levelly. "Lift the blanket."
"Chill out. She wouldn't be under there if you weren't so murderous in the first place."
"'She'?" Koshiba chillingly giggled. "I was willing to overlook this if it turned out to be Sena or another boy. . . I see, though. A girl. A gender you're romantically interested in. . . underneath the same blanket. . . sharing body heat. . . at nine in the morning. . ."
Her giggles shifted into spiteful cackles.
My life flashed before my eyelids.
I expected a sharp pain—her thrusting the knife in the blanket regardless of who I was, followed by my imminent death. What came instead was a deafening thud. Then, silence.
Igarashi hauled his body upright. He weaved his hand through his hair, then heaved. "That took a lot longer than I thought."
Puzzlement swallowed me whole. I poked my head out into the cooler air. Koshiba had passed out. Spirals in replace of her eyes, dagger clasped in her palm. My jaw fell slack.
We were saved. . . ?
Igarashi hoisted himself to his feet and hastened up to her. "Let's tie her up before she wakes up." He procured the knife, stowed it elsewhere, then returned to grab her by the armpits. "I have some spare rope in the closet."
He beckoned I retrieve it, though I remained rooted in place.
"Huh?"
"Rope. If we don't bind her arms and legs, she'll go on a rampage and sever both our heads when she comes to. Do you want to die without your head?"
I mutely shook my head. My body didn't automatically react.
"What's wrong?"
"This is a little. . . You're a bit too calm about what you said, so. . . Have you done stuff like this before?"
He deadpanned. "Don't get the wrong idea, moron. Keiko's a special case. She jumps to wild conclusions and isn't afraid to stain her hands. Explaining the truth to her at this moment was a longshot. If we restrain her, she'll be forced to listen and calm down. That's what I do whenever I have the chance, anyway, and it works every time. To survive, sometimes you have to. . . play dirty."
The look in his eye! That was the look of someone who'd stared death square in the eye multiple times!
Witnessing the ferocity of Koshiba first-hand upon plenty of occasions, I wasn't surprised.
There was the chance he anticipated the shock of the situation to take too large a mental toll on Koshiba and cause her to faint. If so, was that why he wasn't in such a rush to hide and insisted we cuddle to deal greater damage to her psyche?
For the sake of my embarrassment, I'd leave it at that.
Locking away the nameless emotion that'd taken shape moments prior, I went to acquire the rope.
✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧
While Koshiba got some shut-eye, I'd borrowed Igarashi's bathroom to freshen up, whipped up breakfast with the ingredients Koshiba had brought, and was silently sipping away to a cup of tea in the living room in no time.
"Whoa!" Igarashi, freshly changed in a grey and neon green hoodie and dark sweats, brightened at the assortment of plates on the kitchen table. "I didn't know you could cook, Kisaragi."
Ignoring Koshiba entirely, he yanked back the chair and took a seat directly across from me.
"I've been practicing," I replied. Because of Kamakiri—not that I'd vocalize that. I'd made it a secret goal of mine to one day cook something that'd wipe the uppity smirk off his face. "Sorry it's something simple. And for borrowing your kitchen. I owe you this much, though."
By the time I finished what I was saying, he'd already shoved an unbelievable amount into his mouth. He gandered up, a twinkle in his eye. "Huh? Did you say something? More importantly, gimme seconds. It's delicious."
He flashed me his emptied bowl of rice.
What a food fanatic. I couldn't judge since I was the same, but still. . . There was no way what I prepared tasted good enough to gobble down like that. He probably would've eaten anything I dished up with that amount of enthusiasm and called it 'delicious.' The glutton.
"She's still passed out, right?" Igarashi murmured when I timidly slid him a second bowl.
Guilt knotted my stomach. Lowering the teacup, I guided my gaze to the living room viewable from here, and at her body propped against the wall. "Are you sure it's okay to leave her like that? She came here so eager to see you. Even brought groceries to cook. . ."
"You shouldn't feel guilty. Keiko's a terrible chef. You saved those ingredients, if anything."
"Be that as it may. . . It's cruel. And inhumane. The only reason she got so defensive in the first place is because she cares for you. And this is how you repay her?"
"Man, you're pure." He gnawed on a rolled omelette. "I remember when I used to be like that."
"Hey."
Catching the disapproval in my tone, he looked at me. His chewing remained unaffected. After what felt like centuries, he peeked at Koshiba. "I did this for our safety yet you still have complaints. Only you, Kisaragi, would feel pity for someone who's made their malice clear."
"Koshiba is scary. But she wouldn't have actually killed me, I think."
"Maybe not literally, but she'd make you wish you were dead. Even if you can't see the good of this setup, trust me, I did us a favour. If it makes you feel any better, I'll apologize like my life depends on it when the time comes. She won't be able to stay mad at this handsome face."
I frowned. "That's not the issue. . ."
He set his chopsticks down. The light sound stole my attention. Unlike earlier, there remained no nonchalance on his countenance. His chilling gaze bore through my soul.
"You should be worrying more about yourself. How long do you plan to stay here?"
Goosebumps trailed across my arms. My slightly damp hair by my neck was like ice that slithered through my veins. "Forever?"
"That poses a lot of problems, so I'd advise against it." He slumped in his chair. "Well, I wouldn't particularly mind since it's fun whenever you're around. But, your family will worry, won't they?"
Yesterday, he'd steered clear of being so direct. It was comfortable. But, I couldn't rely on it forever. The reality was that I was imposing on him. What tormented me wouldn't disappear by ignoring it.
"Did something happen at home?"
I stiffened.
Fiddling with the cuff of my sleeve, I averted eye contact. I couldn't avoid this forever.
Lips trembling, I murmured, "My dad—he told me not to come back."
Igarashi's eyes widened a fraction. He didn't say anything; merely stared at me in silence. I buried my face in my knees.
"We argue. All the time. Over trivial, nonsensical things. He's impulsive, and clumsy, and gets into trouble, so my little sister Mao and I are left cleaning up after him. It's been a lot worse since my mom died last year but no matter how heated our disagreements get, he's never once told me that."
"I'm sure it was something he said without thinking."
"I know. And I wouldn't have taken it to heart any other day. In the first place, I'm the one who said nastier things. Things I can never take back. It's only natural he wanted nothing to with me." I bit my lip. Definite tears had filled my eyes. My voice shook as well. "I'm so stupid. Mom's not coming back. No matter how much I wish for it, or dream of the past, she's gone. I'll never be able to hear her voice, eat her cooking, see her face, talk to her, touch her. . . It doesn't matter how stubborn I am in not forgetting her, in bottling up my feelings, because those days will never return. My mom gave her heart to everything. She smiled in the face of adversity. She teased me like no tomorrow. I admired and loved her so, so much. . . but, but I'll never see her again."
I was brought into a warm hug from behind. Igarashi. He'd somehow wormed his way around without my noticing. It was uncharacteristic. But I couldn't complain, considering how much I was trembling.
"It's so hard to keep going every day with this gigantic crater in my heart. But the world doesn't wait. Everybody keeps telling me that I have to forget about her so I can move on in life. But—but I just don't know how. My dad makes it seem so easy. What do you mean you're getting remarried? What do you mean I'm getting a step-mom? Mao, my sister who buries herself in delusional worlds because reality is too much to bear, can still face the death of our mom in such a wholehearted way. No matter how much I try, I can't do that. I can't accept another motherly figure in my life no matter how much society tries to force down my throat that I should. So, I insulted Chie. Said Dad was reflecting a twisted love onto her in Mom's absence. But it was only me who sees it that way. It's only me who's stuck in the past. They're desperately trying to move forward in life. Chie's done nothing wrong. She genuinely cares for us. That's what makes it harder. The reason I hate her, the reason I can't support her and my dad, is because I'm selfish. I'm horrible. How can I face any of them when I still feel this way? I can't. I can't handle this anymore. I don't want to live like this anymore. I don't want to live anymore—"
"Kisaragi."
"I know I shouldn't be having these thoughts," I snuffled. "But, I've thought about it. At night. In my dreams. Random moments during the day. That it'd all be easier if I wasn't around. Dad and Chie and Mao could move on just like they're moving on from Mom. And maybe—maybe I could be with Mom again. I-I'm sorry. Why am I telling you this? I'm so sorry."
"Kisaragi, look at me."
My lungs collapsed.
"Look at me." I was left no choice. Igarashi abandoned the one-sided hug and kneeled right in front of me. Irregardless of my unsightly appearance, his stare bore straight through me. I was dumb to think he'd ever tease me. Igarashi was a lot of things, and got on my nerves as much as we got along, but he wouldn't laugh at me at my lowest. It was at my lowest he readily held me up—displayed expressions and emotions I wouldn't dare think possible of him.
There were tears in his eyes. It took me a hot second to notice them. But they were there. He was crying.
For. . . for me?
"I'm telling you this right now, I'd hate that," he remarked. "I'd hate it so much I don't even want to think about it. But I know this isn't about me. You're stupidly uptight about the dumbest things and demand the impossible of others. I should've expected you'd be that unreasonable on yourself too. You have to forget about your mom? Your feelings are selfish? Who decided that?"
"The reason they can't move forward is because of me," I sniffled, rubbing my wet eyelids. "I-If I finally leave my mom behind, these ugly, twisted thoughts and feelings will disappear. I won't have to say things that'll hurt the people I love. This excruciating pain won't torment my life. By discarding all my memories of her, if I can just forget her, I'll be. . . I can finally be. . . happy from my bottom of my heart again."
I couldn't finish the sentence without surrendering to a torrent of sobs.
He brushed my hair out of my eyes. "This is why I said you're unreasonable. In what way is that happiness?"
"B-but. . ."
"There's no need to force yourself to leave her behind. In fact, I don't think there's any harm in living with those memories. It's because she was precious to you, that you cherished her, you should always keep her close."
Dumb as it was, it was something I'd longed to hear.
Confirmation that I wasn't greedily clinging to the impossible. That this turmoil I'd entombed long ago was valid. But. . .
"If I do that, I can't move on. I really will curse Chie forever. I'll curse her to the point where she'll eventually leave my dad, and he'll suffer another heartbreak. I'll be the chain that anchors Mao and Dad in the past for the remainder of our lives."
"I'm not saying that won't happen. But there's also the chance you'll find a way to keep going anyway, without cursing anyone, or forgetting the past. You'll find a way to be happy from the bottom of your heart again." His eyebrows pinched helplessly. "Since you're stupid, you'll find a way to make it possible, I know it."
I puffed my cheeks. "Stop making fun of me."
"Impossible. It's in my blood."
"At least try, jerk."
It was as if a weight had been carried off my chest—like I, at long last, could breathe.
Igarashi's shoulders slumped. "Jeez, I let you cry in front of me once and now you're doing it every other day. Didn't I tell you I never again wanted to see your tear-stained face again?"
He did, yet he didn't disregard me whenever I did break down.
"Igarashi. . ."
"Not again," he lightly said, spotting the quiver of my mouth. "If you have time to wail, go home. Tell your family directly what you told me. Weep to your heart's content. Apologize, hug it out, and do whatever you need to. If you're scared to do it alone, you can even take me with you."
I cracked up at the image, scrubbing my palms down to my face. "No thank you. I've already embarrassed myself enough. I'll go alone. I have no choice but to if I want things to change. Then, the next time you see me, it'll be business as usual."
"Sounds good." He sighed. "Also, fix that flaw of yours as soon as possible. Bottling up your negative emotions to the breaking point isn't healthy. Aren't you embarrassed constantly bursting into tears like this in front of others?"
"There—there aren't others, though. Only you. . . I've only ever shown this side of me to you."
His shoulders jumped, cheeks flushing on cue.
"I wouldn't be able to act like this with anyone else," I added, equally as timid. "Um. . . so, um, can I ask for one last favour before I go?"
I wasn't thinking straight. I clearly wasn't. So, when I threw myself into Igarashi's arms, squeezing him into another hug, I think he realized that too.
"Just—just for a bit longer," I hurriedly said, my lip quivering uncontrollably. "Then, I'll go home and we can forget all about this."
He released a hopeless sigh. "Right after I said not to cry. Leave some tears for when you get home."
This was so embarrassing. What was wrong with me?
Despite writhing in mortification, my tears didn't wane, and my snivels continued. Igarashi just held me in his arms—closer, tighter, as he chuckled under his breath.
"We should hang out tomorrow too. We can grab Sena and practice that new song I wrote. I also have somebody in mind to join our band. His name is Yunoki and he's amazing at the drums. He's also a first year, in Sena's class. I'll introduce you. How does Monday after school sound?"
"I made plans with Tsumugi and Kiharu then," I said between snuffles.
"Oh, then Tuesday?"
"I have to rehearse with Upperclassman Issei all evening." My mouth moved instinctively. "Banri asked me to meet with him on Wednesday. A-and Mortal Mania's newest song comes out Thursday night."
"Damn, that's right! That song's going to be awesome! I can't wait!"
Me too.
"If during the week won't work, what about next Saturday? Are you free?"
"I—kind of wanted to try cooking a new recipe. There's been one I've been meaning to perfect. B-but probably after that, I can."
"Yes! Once Yunoki joins, we should be set for a while. We're gonna make this work, no matter what, Kisaragi. In a couple of years, anyone and everyone will know our band's name." I could practically hear him smiling. "There's so much to look forward to in the future, huh?"
My heart trembled. I was such a hypocrite. Unintentionally or not, how could I ever let thoughts like that cross my mind? How could I ever say that I didn't want to live anymore? Mom would be furious with me if she'd heard me. Rightfully so. Of course she would be.
Needless to say, I honestly and truly fell apart. I could no longer see the world through my tears. I sobbed so hard I trembled and couldn't speak.
Igarashi was a walking paradox. I could never get a grasp on him. I probably never could no matter how much time I spent with him. After today, though, I was convinced of one thing.
I didn't hate him.
I hadn't hated him, not for a long while.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Chapter Bonus: Toru Igarashi's POV
The night before
She'd fallen asleep.
I took my eyes off her for about a minute. She was biding time with senseless things. Figuring out how to play Zelda: Breath of the Wild since she'd never had the opportunity to try it before only to doze off whilst clutching it to her chest.
Expelling a small breath, my eyes lingered on her a bit longer than necessary.
She was incredibly stubborn, dwelled on mundane topics, and didn't let anyone walk over her without putting up a fight. Multiple times she'd caught me off guard and had me scrambling to upstage her and save face. She was nothing but trouble. Yet, for some reason, I couldn't leave this troublesome girl alone.
She was defenceless, too. Had no inch of self-awareness. If she viewed me with unadulterated scorn daily—if she disliked me as much as she said she did—why was she constantly showing me sides of her I could take advantage of? Why was she never without a smile whenever we hung out?
In my opinion, we got along too well. But because I couldn't admit those honest opinions, I played into the nemesis act she expected from me.
After school when she suggested a scenario about her falling for me, and asking me out, I thought I'd go crazy. I quickly brushed it aside with false reassurance (at least, I tried to).
But, the truth was. . . For a while now, I. . .
I whipped my head left and right so fast my neck almost snapped.
"Whoa. Calm down. She doesn't see you like that, Toru," I told myself off.
Because she didn't, it made it that much harder to keep my rationality in this situation.
Blanket. I'd get a blanket and pillow. Then I'd stay as far from her as possible. No need to further dig myself into a hole and do something I'd regret.
The moment I lifted myself upward, the hem of my shirt was seized.
My lungs squeezed. Stunned, I shifted my gaze left. She'd moved in her sleep. Her fingers which held me trembled. Her eyelids quivered also, strain staining her entire face.
'Don't leave me alone.'
It was crystal clear. Albeit subconscious, whatever she was dreaming of was evidently unpleasant.
Yet with that simple gesture, I was convinced my heart would explode.
"Kisaragi. . ."
I shouldn't.
She'd be all right without my presence. There were so many reasons why this wasn't a good idea.
Slipping from her grip, I collected a proper blanket and pillow. Even as I eased her head onto it, removed my Switch, and covered her with the blanket, her agony tore at me.
Instinctively, I squeezed her quivering hand.
Like magic itself, her anguish levelled out. A small smile broke across her face.
What was that?
What did she want me to do after something like that?
How unbearably endearing could she be?
. . .Fine. She asked for it. I'd keep her company. But if she got angry in the morning that would be her fault.
She really was troublesome. I wasn't so generous I'd take such repetitive attacks at my heart lying down.
Bending forward, I planted a light kiss on her forehead. Despite my erratic pulse, I retreated, smiling.
"Consider this payback."
A secret I'd bring with me to my grave.
____________
Hope you enjoyed the chapter! <3 Look forward to the next one! (PS: I'll probably be updating every day/every other day for a while)