When I woke from the nightmare, tears were streaming down my face. I was slowly overcoming the memories of that time as the days passed, but I still couldn't maintain my composure when they ambushed me in my sleep.
Currently, there was a man living in this room with me.
Not wanting him to see me with a face like this, I desperately scanned the room to see where he was.
The man—Yamamoto—was an early riser. Despite being a university student in the middle of a lazy summer vacation, that cleaning freak would wake up at six every morning, no matter how late he’d stayed up the night before, just to get a head start on the chores.
As expected, he wasn't in his futon.
He wasn't in the living room, either.
"Whoo-hoo! Look at all this hair I got out of the drain!"
It sounded like he was in the bathroom.
He usually tried to act cool, but when it came to cleaning, the passion dwelling inside him became uncontrollable, and he would occasionally let out strange cries.
At first glance, he seemed like a total creep. At second and third glance, he was still a hopeless weirdo.
However, this morning of all mornings, I could actually laugh at his stupid eccentricities. I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes and began preparing breakfast for the cleaning freak who had saved me from that hell.
After we ate breakfast together, he went right back to cleaning. It was the Friday of the final week of summer vacation. I had decided to ask him for a favor last night, right around the time his breathing had turned rhythmic in his sleep.
"Hey, Yamamoto. There's somewhere I want to go today."
"Sure. Where?"
"The bookstore."
"A bookstore, huh?"
Yamamoto, who had his back to me while absorbed in his chores, eventually looked up at the ceiling and groaned as if he were actually considering the request.
"Maybe I'll go, too."
"Wait, I assumed you were coming anyway?"
"Huh?"
"Huh?"
There seemed to be a slight disconnect in our understanding. When I told him I wanted to go to the bookstore, I didn't mean I was going alone; I meant I wanted us to go together. It was annoying to have him look at me like a deer in headlights.
"...Well, whatever. What are you looking for, Hayashi?"
"A bookkeeping textbook."
"What, are you taking the bookkeeping exam?"
"Yeah. If I just stay in this room like this, I'm nothing but a freeloader, right?"
Yamamoto, who had returned to his work, turned only his head toward me.
A heavy silence followed.
"...You handle all the housework besides the cleaning. I’ve never once thought of you as a freeloader."
"What are you talking about? You're a university student without a decent income. Keeping a NEET like me around is nothing but a burden."
"Don't call yourself a NEET. You're just taking the time to recover your strength."
"...I’m going to work, too."
"That's why—"
"I'll start with a part-time job, but eventually, I’ll get a qualification and find a real career."
Yamamoto’s troubled expression didn't falter. Even though he was the one sheltering me, he probably didn't know how much he should intervene in my life. What a fool. He didn't need to worry about things like that; he could just do whatever he wanted with me. Like that other person did—using me as an outlet for his stress or his desires.
At the very least, this man who saved me from that hell had earned the right to do so. That was how I felt.
"...Is it really impossible for you to return to university?"
Yamamoto’s question caught me off guard.
To think he was actually worried about that. I hadn't expected it at all.
"It's impossible. I already withdrew."
"But... you were backed into a corner. You only quit because you had no choice."
Yamamoto hung his head sadly. He was fundamentally a strange guy, but occasionally he showed this terribly sorrowful face. I hated seeing it. Whenever he looked like that, it was usually because of something involving me. It made me feel like I was being crushed by guilt.
"Anyway, I’ve already decided."
"...I see."
"Thanks. For worrying about someone like me."
Yamamoto’s expression remained clouded. For a while after that, he continued cleaning the room with a complicated look on his face.
Once we finished lunch, we finally headed out to the bookstore. By then, Yamamoto seemed to have shifted his mood; he was back to his usual self.
At the bookstore, we immediately ran into a bit of a conflict.
"Look, it would be much more efficient if we split up."
"I keep telling you! I didn't come to the bookstore with you for efficiency!"
When I snapped at him in a firm tone, the efficiency-obsessed Yamamoto finally gave in. I dragged him along while he grumbled behind me as we browsed the aisles together. I wasn't sure why, but perhaps because he was right behind me, wandering through the store felt fun.
I bought the bookkeeping textbook as planned, and Yamamoto bought a book on cleaning techniques.
He was usually a man of few words, but when he talked about the book he’d picked, he became uncharacteristically talkative, passionately lecturing me on how amazing it was. I understood maybe ten percent—no, zero percent—of what he was saying.
"Here."
Yamamoto suddenly held out his hand to me.
"What? You want me to shake?"
"No. I'll carry your book."
"...Thanks."
I handed him the book with a solemn nod.
Actually, the man was unexpectedly attentive. Whenever we went to the supermarket, he always carried the bags, and he always made sure to walk on the street side of the sidewalk.
Moreover, he was quite perceptive about a girl's feelings... I’d once assumed he was a virgin. I still suspected as much, but I was beginning to think he might have actually had at least one relationship in the past.
However, every time I reached that conclusion, I tried to shake the thought away. For some reason, falling into that line of thinking always made me feel awful.
"Sorry, do you mind if I hit the restroom before we head back?"
"Sure. I'll wait."
Yamamoto headed off toward the back.
I decided to kill time by scrolling through my phone near the exit.
"Oh, Megu?"
It was a familiar voice.
"...Ah, Akari."
I’d been careless.
This was the bookstore closest to Akari's house. There was always a chance we’d run into each other.
...Since that day.
Ever since I learned that Yamamoto had confessed to Akari in the past, I hadn't hung out with her. It wasn't that I hated her. I’d turned down more than a few boys myself.
...However, there was no denying that I was avoiding her because of the emotions stirring inside me.
"Geez, you haven't messaged me at all lately. What are you doing here?"
"Just some shopping. I thought I'd start studying bookkeeping."
"Bookkeeping? Wow, are you getting a qualification, Megu?"
"Yeah."
"I see, I see! Well, good luck. You definitely have to give it your all! I'm rooting for you."
"Thanks."
"...Come to think of it."
Akari suddenly started glancing around.
"Is Yamamoto-kun here today?"
It was just a casual question.
Since Akari knew I was staying at his place, it was just... small talk.
And yet, I couldn't stop the thought from surfacing.
I couldn't help but think it.
...Even though you rejected him.
How can you act so nonchalant about him?
Now that I thought about it, something was off.
I was always by Akari's side in high school. She was one of the few people who didn't stick around just to use me. That was why I trusted her. That was why we became best friends.
...Because we were always together, I knew her habits.
Akari always kept a certain distance from boys. Physical contact was out of the question. Because she attracted even more male attention than I did, she went out of her way to avoid contact so she wouldn't lead anyone on.
And yet, the other day, Akari was so casual with Yamamoto...!
Had she just been playing with him?
Had Akari toyed with the feelings of the boy who confessed to her?
...It was a bizarre sensation.
Even though she was my precious best friend, this emotion in my chest... this surge of heat...
"...I heard about it, Akari."
"Hm? Heard what?"
"That Yamamoto confessed to you in high school."
I hadn't intended to say it.
Yamamoto had seemed so reluctant to tell me that story. He probably really hadn't wanted me to know. But because I’d irresponsibly prodded him, he’d been forced to tell me.
As a result, I’d made him sad.
Pursuing this would only cause him more pain.
I didn't want that at all.
...And yet.
And yet, I said it anyway.
I saw Akari’s face cloud over.
She seemed to hesitate for a long moment.
It was the first time I’d ever seen her look like that, even though we’d been best friends for years.
"So you heard."
"...Yeah. I heard everything."
"I see. So he told you."
Akari gave a bitter smile, as if she were giving up.
"...That's right. It's just like you said, Megu."
"...I knew it."
"I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to hide it. I just didn't know when to bring it up. That's all..."
I didn't want to hear excuses.
Those weren't the words I was looking for.
...I just.
I just wanted Akari to apologize for playing with his heart. That was all.
Then, with a resigned look, Akari spoke.
"Just like you said, Megu... we were dating."
She confessed the truth with a deeply sorrowful expression.
"...Huh?"
A pathetic, hollow sound escaped my lips.