That night, the first after I’d started sheltering Hayashi in my apartment, we sat together eating dinner.
It had only been a few hours since the decision was made. Before I’d finally fallen asleep this morning, so much had been happening that I didn't have the mental energy to overthink it. Now, however, the silence in this small room with just the two of us felt excruciatingly awkward.
Our history only went back to high school. Even then, we’d rarely spoken. She had never been fond of slackers like me, and I hadn't exactly been drowning in female friends. To be honest, I’d always assumed she flat-out disliked me back then.
That was the root of the current tension.
"Hey," Hayashi said, finally cutting through the silence.
"What?"
"I wonder what he's doing right now."
By "him," she meant the man she’d been living with. I couldn't understand why she’d even spare a thought for him after the domestic violence he’d put her through.
"You still have feelings for the guy?"
"No. It’s not that."
"Good."
Maybe my immediate response was a bit blunt, but considering what he’d done to her, I didn't feel like being sympathetic. I truly believed she was better off having that relationship end, even if the ending had been messy.
"...I’m just a little scared, is all," she admitted.
Her tone was casual enough, but her words betrayed a deep-seated fear. It made sense. After months of being subjected to his "discipline," it was only natural to be terrified of history repeating itself.
"Those aren't the kind of words I’d expect to hear from the high school version of you," I said, trying to keep things light.
We had already given our statements to the police, and she was hidden away in an apartment her ex didn't even know existed. Worrying was a waste of time. My goal was to steer her toward a brighter topic, though I knew my warped personality made it sound like I was just being a jerk.
Poor Hayashi. She’d really picked the wrong person to rely on. Between an abusive boyfriend and a guy like me, her luck with men was abysmal.
"...Thank you."
She actually thanked me. I’d been bracing for her to get annoyed or snap at me, so I could only blink in surprise.
"What’s with that look? You look like a deer in headlights."
"...Well."
"Of course I’m grateful."
Hayashi shifted her gaze, looking almost bashful.
"If you hadn't told me to come here that night, I’d still be getting hit. I wouldn't have gone to the police, and I wouldn't have even had the chance to hold him accountable. Even now, you're only using that blunt tone to try and distract me from being scared, aren't you?"
"Is that seriously how you took what I said?"
"Was I wrong?"
"...No. You're right."
I wished she hadn't made me say it. It was embarrassing.
Back in high school, we’d hardly spoken a dozen times. I’d never had a reason to approach her, and whenever we did talk, her responses were always curt or critical. I’d spent those years convinced she hated me, eventually going out of my way to avoid her altogether.
But looking at her now, maybe she hadn't thought so poorly of me after all.
Back then, everyone called her The Queen.
She had a stunning face, a figure everyone envied, and she was always assertive and clear about what she wanted. To the rest of us, she seemed as imposing and untouchable as royalty. I’d never called her that to her face, of course, but I remember thinking the nickname fit her perfectly.
It turned out she might be more perceptive than I’d given her credit for.
Then again, I couldn't be sure yet. We’d only been together for a day. It would be arrogant to think I understood her whole character just because she’d correctly interpreted one thing I said.
"Your ex is probably searching for you with bloodshot eyes right now," I said.
"...I suppose so."
"You shouldn't leave this room for a while. And you really need a new smartphone, but I’m going to ask you to hold off on that for a bit."
"Why?"
"Because there’s no telling how he might track you down."
I didn't know the specifics of how they’d started dating, but seeing how popular she was in high school, I knew her social circle was vast—larger than I could even imagine. I had no idea where a leak might come from.
"...Right. I understand."
"Sorry for forcing you to live like a shut-in. I have my part-time job, so I can't be here all the time. If something happens while I'm out, there’s not much I can do to help you."
Hayashi let out a small giggle.
"What’s so funny?"
"I was just thinking... why are you the one apologizing to me?"
She had a point.
I was the one who’d been dragged into her mess. Why was I the one trying to accommodate her every need? And yet, even as she laughed, I still felt a lingering sense of guilt, so maybe I wasn't entirely wrong to feel that way.
"...I was just thinking that this is what a real romantic relationship is supposed to look like," she murmured.
"Huh?"
"Apologizing even when you haven't done anything wrong. Considering the other person's feelings and acting for their sake. He never did either of those things."
Even when her boyfriend was hitting her, Hayashi had struggled to support him. I’d thought it was just her being too good-natured for her own good, but it seemed her motivation was deeper—she was trying to force the relationship into her ideal of what love should be.
And now, here I was, apologizing when I wasn't at fault, worrying about her, and giving up my time and space for her. It seemed those simple gestures meant the world to her.
...Still.
"It’s not like we’re actually in a relationship, though."
"I guess not!"
Hayashi burst into a genuine laugh.
Since we’d reunited, I hadn't seen her smile much. Usually, she was looking down with a heavy expression or wearing a face full of sorrow. I’d seen more of that than I ever wanted to.
As long as she was smiling, I didn't mind the reason. It didn't feel so bad.