I'm Being Threatened by My Sister's Ex-girlfriend. (GL) - Chapter 27

Of course, this night’s story ends here.

Hakobe and I returned to our respective beds and fell asleep.

Eventually, as the morning light streamed in, we sluggishly crawled out of bed like zombies right after crawling out of their graves, washed our faces, and took turns pulling a stick of bread from the bag to munch on quietly.

I watched Hakobe, Hakobe watched Ichika, and Ichika watched the morning news. It seemed that, somewhere in some zoo in a certain prefecture, a certain animal had given birth to at least one male or female offspring.

Hakobe and Ichika both left my apartment at the same time. I wondered what they would talk about on the way to the station.

Left alone, I turned on the tap, grabbed a mug, and scanned the room. The lukewarm water had a strong chlorine smell. I picked up the towel blanket that had fallen on the floor and tossed it onto the bed, faintly smelling vanilla.

The small seven-mat room felt strangely spacious.

I decided to skip university that day.

I spent the whole day doing nothing but playing games. In an open-world RPG, I just kept slashing through weak monsters. Slashing, moving, slashing, moving, and returning to the same spot to slash again. It was a vicious cycle.

Whenever I got hungry, I nibbled on a stick of bread. Once that ran out, I boiled some water for cup noodles. When that ran out too, I opened a stash of kabuki-age (fried snack crackers) and ate them. The only thing I made sure to do was drink water.

There was no message from Hakobe. And if that was the case, I didn’t feel like there was anything I should be saying to her anymore.

When the last two pieces of kabuki-age were left in the bag, the doorbell rang.

“You’ve got quite a cute face, don’t you?”

Hayasegawa stood in front of me, looking exasperated, holding a bulging plastic bag.

After drinking the jelly drink she handed me, I felt a sharp sweetness tingle my tongue. I gulped it down eagerly. Then she handed me a plastic container with Chinese porridge. I devoured it in one go. As Hayasegawa peeled open a rice ball with mentaiko (spicy cod roe), I thought she was going to eat it herself, but she handed it to me instead. I ate it. It was delicious.

“Aren’t you going to eat, Hayasegawa?”

“I am.”

She said this and then bit into another rice ball.

The energy from the carbohydrates made its way to my brain. Finally, a question arose in my mind: Why had Hayasegawa come here? The plastic bag was still bulging. She had bought all this food, like she was bringing it to a sick person.

“Um, why…?”

“Huh?”

Her sharp eyes glinted dangerously through her Wellington glasses.

“You’ve been absent from university, and I haven’t seen any read receipts on LINE. If that goes on for three days, it’s only natural to suspect you’re sick.”

“…Three days?”

I tapped my smartphone screen. The display remained dark. I hadn’t noticed when the battery had died.

My internal clock was completely off. How many hours had passed since I last slept? Even as I tried to recall, my memories were fuzzy, and an overwhelming sense of fear slowly crept in.

I might have collapsed, alone in here, without anyone noticing.

“…Thanks. You really helped me, Hayasegawa. You came to check on me, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

She turned slightly to the side, pushing a rice grain stuck to her finger into her lips.

“So, what happened? You don’t look like you have a cold.”

“Well…”

“If it’s hard to talk about, you don’t have to say anything.”

Her indifferent words were tinged with a hint of concern.

I opened up the plastic bag and looked inside. Oral rehydration solution. Nutritional supplements. A ripe red apple and canned peaches. A pack of vanilla ice cream.

There was no need to say anything more; all of it was wrapped in unspoken consideration. If I couldn’t open up to Hayasegawa about everything, then I probably couldn’t tell anyone else.

“No, I need to tell you. I think you’re the only one I can talk to.”

And so, I began to explain everything that had happened up until now—only to suddenly realize something.

It had already been three days. In the middle of this summer.

“Can I take a shower first?”

Without waiting for her response, I rushed into the bathroom.

Hayasegawa listened to me seriously. Occasionally, she covered her face with both hands, but I wondered what that meant. In the end, my sharp-witted friend let out a deep sigh and said, almost as if she was throwing it away:

“Basically, you chickened out and ran away, huh?”

“Watch how you say that.”

“So? What do you want to do? What do you want, exactly?”

“…Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

That’s the thing.

Hayasegawa’s harsh words hit the mark. In the end, I ran away because I didn’t have the confidence to be someone more than Ichika. That’s the truth, but the real issue lies in what happens after that.

What exactly do I want with Hakobe?

I realized that I don’t understand my own feelings as much as I thought I did. The more I try to face them and grasp them, the more they slip away.

When I voiced this inner conflict, Hayasegawa spoke, almost as if whispering.

“Then… want to do a test?”

“A test?”

“Yeah, a test.”

Without thinking too much, I nodded.

Hayasegawa suddenly stood up, grabbed my shoulder, and pushed me down toward the bedside. The sheets brushed against the back of my neck.

“Hayasegawa?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she got on all fours in front of me, still holding onto my shoulder.

She looked like a predator, about to sink her fangs into the throat of her prey, like a big cat. But, her nails, unpainted with gel, were round and well-groomed, and it seemed like I could easily shake her off if I wanted to.

Still, for probably the first time since we met, I felt scared of her.

“What… what are you doing?”

“Like I said, a test. Your sexual orientation and your feelings toward Hakobe.”

“If you don’t want to, just say it.”

It was then that I noticed for the first time that Hayasegawa had put on makeup. Her eyelashes were carefully lifted, and she wore trendy lipstick. From her neck, there was a scent of white musk, similar to laundry detergent.

It felt like a bit of an excessive effort for visiting a friend.

Her finger touched my chin. Hayasegawa’s face, her lips, moved closer.

“Mmm.”

Despite my resistance, she moved at just the right pace, not giving me a chance to break free. Softness touched my lips. It was softer than Hakobe’s, with a bitter, spicy scent.

Ah. She must have smoked outside before this, I thought.

Though she keeps it in check in public, Hayasegawa is a smoker.

It was a kiss that wasn’t as forward as Hakobe’s or as indifferent as Ichika’s. Of course, her tongue didn’t enter. It was just a long and restrained kiss, where only our lips touched.

The warmth between us faded.

“How was it?”

“…How was what?”

“What do you mean?”

“Wasn’t it… bad?”

“It wasn’t bad, but…”

“Then, was it good?”

No, what is this person saying? Because, after all, Hayasegawa is my friend, and if a kiss with a friend felt good, that would be a problem. Friends don’t kiss. At least, not in this country.

Still confused, I denied it.

“I-I, no, it’s not—”

“Then, again.”

“No, no, enough already—ah!”

I had told him to speak up if he didn’t like it, but Hayasegawa kissed me again. This time, longer than before. He didn’t push his tongue in, but he gently nibbled on both my upper and lower lips, softer than a kitten’s bite.

His breath was sweet and bitter.

Finally, Hayasegawa pulled away and said in a flat voice:

“How about now? Did it excite you?”

“Excite…?”

“I mean, did your heart race? Compared to Hakobe.”

Compared to Hakobe.

“If you don’t mind this, then you’re just like her. Not a ‘pretender.’ From here on, it’s just a matter of simple love.”

Which is better, he means.

Like nothing had happened, Hayasegawa said it matter-of-factly.

Which is better? Can they even be compared? Should they be compared?

—It must be like that.

I placed the kiss from Hayasegawa and the one from Hakobe on either side of my mental scale and carefully checked how it wavered.

I asked myself again and again, trying to find an answer.

Yes, the scale tilted.

It was Hayasegawa who had noticed I was weak, who had pushed through the summer heat to come to my house, who had bought me jelly drinks, porridge, and fruit. Even now, the person I most wanted to rely on was definitely Hayasegawa, but the scale still tilted.

That unfairness made me feel a little lonely.

“Hayasegawa…”

I asked, still in the cornered position.

“Did it excite you?”

Honestly, if Hayasegawa had nodded, I might have been okay with it.

He seemed experienced, gentle, and—well, skilled.

Not like Hakobe, who was just rough like a beast.

Right after I realized all that, I was thinking these things, so maybe I had the potential to be a bit of a pervert.

Hayasegawa’s long fingers gently touched my cheek, tracing its shape like he was calming a cat. It felt ticklish. He did that for a while.

Through the glass, I felt like I saw a hint of blue loneliness in his eyes, but that could have been my imagination.

Finally, Hayasegawa flicked my forehead with his finger and said lightly:

“You think I’d do that with a friend? Stupid.”