Episode3

The faint rustle of fabric and the clinking of a belt buckle pulled my attention from the book I was pretending to read. Souta stood near the mirror in the hallway, fixing the collar of his shirt. A pale blue one. The one he rarely wore unless there was something… or someone… special.

I leaned back on the couch, my voice casual even though my chest tightened.

“You’re going somewhere?”

He looked up, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. My colleagues thought I’ve been too serious lately, so… they set me up on a date.”

The word date echoed in my head like a dull thud. I blinked once, twice, forcing a smile. “A date? Since when do you listen to them?”

He chuckled, brushing his fingers through his hair. “Since they wouldn’t stop teasing me about being single forever. I just… thought I’d give it a try. Who knows, right?”

Who knows.

The words stung more than they should have.

Souta’s friends had no idea what they were doing — throwing him into something he didn’t even want. Or maybe he did. Maybe he wanted someone now. Someone his age. Someone not me.

I lowered my eyes to the page, pretending to read again, but every sound he made — the soft creak of his shoes, the faint scent of his cologne — made it harder to breathe. That cologne… I’d grown used to it lingering in the hallways, in the car, on the couch cushions. Now it felt like it was fading away before he even left.

“You said,” I muttered, voice quieter than I intended, “you’d never date.”

He paused at the door, turning back. His expression softened with a hint of guilt. “That’s what I thought too… but I got cornered this time.”

A bitter laugh almost escaped my throat. Cornered by them… or by loneliness?

Souta didn’t notice my silence. He just smiled lightly, the way he always did when he thought I was being childish. “Don’t wait up for me, okay? I’ll be back late.”

“Right,” I replied, though my voice cracked in the middle. I pretended to yawn to cover it.

He left with a wave, and the door closed with a click that sounded too final.

The quiet afterward was unbearable.

I stared at the door for a long time, then grabbed my phone. I opened our group chat with his colleagues — the same ones who adored teasing him — and typed a single message to one of them:

“Who told you it was a good idea to make him date someone?”

No reply for five minutes. Then:

“Haha, Aoshi? Chill, we just wanted him to have fun. He’s too serious for his age!”

Too serious.

They didn’t see what I saw — the way Souta’s eyes softened when he looked at me, or the way he made sure I never skipped breakfast. He wasn’t “too serious.” He was too kind. Too good for someone who didn’t see how much I adored him.

I tossed the phone aside, frustration bubbling inside me. My hands trembled a little, and I clenched them into fists.

“I hope that date goes terribly,” I whispered to the empty room.

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The clock ticked away the hours, each one heavier than the last. I tried to study, but my notes blurred together. Tried to eat, but every bite tasted wrong. I even tried to play a game, but my heart wasn’t in it.

The house felt too big without him. The silence felt… wrong.

It was nearly nine when I heard the familiar sound of keys jingling. My heart jumped before my brain could stop it. I tried to act casual again, stretching on the couch as Souta stepped in.

He looked tired. Not sad, not happy — just exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that comes from forcing a smile too long.

“Hey,” I said softly, trying not to sound too eager. “You’re back early.”

“Early?” He chuckled dryly. “It’s past nine, kid.”

“I thought you’d be later.”

I thought you’d be happier.

He loosened his tie and dropped onto the couch beside me with a sigh. “You were right, by the way.”

“About what?”

“I shouldn’t have gone. The woman kept talking about vacations and shopping lists. We barely had anything in common.”

I bit my lip to stop the smile that almost formed. “So… no second date?”

He laughed. “Definitely not. My friends owe me dinner for this disaster.”

Relief flooded me so suddenly it almost hurt. My chest loosened, and I found myself leaning closer without thinking. “Good,” I murmured. “Serves them right for forcing you.”

He glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “Why do you sound so happy that it failed?”

I froze. The room felt smaller suddenly, the air heavy.

“Because…” I looked away quickly, fidgeting with my sleeve. “Because you looked tired before you left. I didn’t want you to waste your night.”

A long pause. Then, softly —

“You’re such a strange kid sometimes.”

His hand brushed my hair lightly, a gesture so casual yet so intimate it made my throat tighten. I wanted to grab his hand, hold it there. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

He stood, stretching. “I’m gonna shower. Don’t stay up too late.”

The bathroom door closed, and I sat there, staring at the spot where he’d just been.

Strange kid. That’s what I was to him. Just the boy he raised, the one who tagged along since high school, the one who shouldn’t have feelings like this.

But as the sound of running water filled the house, I couldn’t stop the ache from growing.

I didn’t care if it was wrong anymore. I just wanted to be the reason he smiled — not the reason he sighed after a date gone wrong.

I whispered into the quiet,

“One day, Souta… you’ll see me differently.”

And that night, for the first time, I wished harder than ever for that day to come.

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