I'm Being Threatened by My Sister's Ex-girlfriend. (GL) - Chapter 7

“I’m home.”
“Welcome back.”

When I returned to my apartment, Hayasegawa was lounging in a loose-fitting T-shirt. Her bare thighs, visible beneath the hem, were dazzling. She nodded when I asked if she had used the shower and sat next to me.

The scent of soap lingered from her damp hair. Hayasegawa always brings her own soap when staying over. She probably has a preference for it.

Her hair was really beautiful. It was long and black, reaching all the way down her back. In the light, it had a slightly amber tint, almost like honey. It was completely different from my own bleached hair.

As I absentmindedly watched her, she handed me a can of chu-hi (a canned alcoholic drink). It seemed like she misunderstood something.

“So?”
“So, what?”

“No, I mean, what’s up with that girl?”
“Ah…”

She popped the tab on the can, and the refreshing sound of it opening filled the air. She took slow, deliberate sips, like she was savoring it. The night breeze had already sobered me up.

“Huh. I never thought you’d be the type to charm high school girls.”
“That’s such a bad way to put it.”

“Then explain it.”
“Ugh…”

At first, I had planned to explain. That was the point of the alcohol, the timing, and everything.

She was my twin sister’s ex-girlfriend, and she was using my personal information to force a relationship with me. A criminal.

Well… “force” might be too strong of a word. But she did kiss me. And the hug… well, that was something else.

I was planning to vent and ask for advice. But now…

I couldn’t find the words to properly describe Hakobe as a villain.

Hayasegawa was a decisive person. If I told her the truth, she’d definitely take some kind of action. She wouldn’t hesitate to be a little forceful if necessary.

Did I really want that kind of resolution?

I stole a glance at Hayasegawa’s expression. There was no way I could bluff or pretend to be drunk in front of her. I could tell she was genuinely concerned, and I couldn’t avoid it now.

“She’s my twin sister’s ex-girlfriend.”

In the end, I decided to share a fragment of the truth.

Hayasegawa’s eyes widened.

“Your twin sister, you mean?”
“Yeah.”

“Her ex-girlfriend.”
“Yeah… ex-girlfriend.”

She repeated “ex-girlfriend” like she was processing it.

“Where did your sister go to school?”
“Mihama University High School.”
“Co-ed school, huh? Then it might be real.”

“Is there such a thing as a fake one?”
“Yes, I went to an all-girls school.”

There really were fake ones, I guess. There always has to be a fake version if there’s a real one. Where there’s light, there’s shadow. If there’s true love, then there must also be fake love.

My relationship with Hakobe was one such variation. At least, it was far from anything that could be called genuine.

I’m not even sure if it’s shining at all. Honestly, it feels more like a black hole or a bottomless pit.

Hayasegawa drank some sake like she was sipping water. The way she did it was almost theatrical, and somehow it made her seem even more composed.

I imagined her in a sailor uniform—navy blue with a red scarf. Her black hair, neatly parted on the right side of her forehead, fluttering in the spring breeze.

If I were her junior, I might have brought her a piece of chocolate.

“Hayasegawa, you must have been really popular with girls.”
“Not sure.”

She snapped off three pieces of dried squid in one go and drank more sake, not even flinching. It was kind of terrifying.

“Well, I was confessed to about five times, actually.”

“Impressive.”

So, there really are girls’ high schools.

I’ve also been confessed to once, though it was back in middle school, not high school. The person was an ordinary boy, but I suddenly got scared and turned him down.

It wasn’t that I was afraid of being in a relationship. What I was afraid of was being corrected.

“Sorry, I meant to confess to Ichika.” After agreeing to it in the moment, I was terrified that those words would come up. Thinking that, I couldn’t nod my head.

It was a silly thing. No matter how much of a twin I was, there was no way I’d confuse who I was confessing to. But to middle school me, it felt like a real problem. The idea that someone would like me instead of Ichika—who was essentially a superior version of me with the same face—felt unbelievable. Why would anyone choose to like me when they could have her?

That’s about the extent of my experience with love. So whenever the topic comes up, I end up struggling to add anything to the conversation.

In other words, the only thing I ever struggle with is the lack of stories to share. Love and romance have always felt like distant events to me.

I’ve always thought that I’m someone who doesn’t really need romantic entanglements to live a fulfilling life.

“Did you two ever date?”

“Yeah, with two of them. But it was more like an extension of our friendship.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, we went to karaoke, visited the aquarium…”

Hearing that, it didn’t seem much different from a regular friendship.

“Well, it was like playing house. Holding hands, hugging…”

“Is that because it’s with a girl?”

“You’re really blunt, huh? Well, yeah, I guess it is.”

Through the red-wine tinted frame of her glasses, Hayasegawa’s eyes locked onto mine. Her eyes are dark and always have a wet, glossy shine to them.

But soon, her gaze drifted away, landing on the surface of her drink.

“In this world, the thing you want the most is often the one you can’t have.”

This was an unusually disjointed answer from Hayasegawa, who is usually so clear-headed.

It seemed like she wasn’t willing to continue the conversation, so she threw the remaining pieces of dried squid into her mouth and silently chewed while staring at the night sky peeking through the curtains.

I leaned my cheek on my bent knee and closed my eyes.

Hakobe’s face appeared behind my eyelids. She wanted Ichika so badly that she needed a substitute, but what kind of expression did she make when she was told goodbye?

The thing you want most is often out of reach.

Hakobe’s number one is Ichika, but for Ichika, that’s not the case. That can’t be helped. Ichika has the looks, but she’s kind of twisted.

Still…

Among the countless possible combinations, for two people’s number ones to align is probably some kind of impossible miracle.

I thought that to myself.

After finishing my third chu-hi, I took a shower. Since it’s a cheap apartment, there’s no bathtub.

When I checked the time, it was still (?) 11 o’clock.

I connected Hayasegawa’s tablet to the Wi-Fi and watched a couple of episodes of a foreign drama I had only heard of by name. It was decently entertaining.

Then, the two of us laid down on the bed.

“This is cramped.”

“Just deal with it.”

“My chest is too much. It takes up too much space.”

“No way.”

The single bed creaked as we snuggled together to sleep. From Hayasegawa’s chest, I could still smell the fresh scent of soap.

I didn’t dream.