The scent of home—dashi and soy sauce, the familiar perfume of my mother's cooking—wrapped around me the moment we stepped inside. It was a comforting blanket, but it did little to soothe the frantic, tangled mess of my thoughts. Jun, of course, seemed completely unbothered by the fact that he had carried me the entire way from the station, refusing to put me down, he somehow opened the door with me awkwardly draped over his arm.
"We're back," I called out, my voice slightly muffled from my position against his chest.
My mother emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She took in the scene—her daughter being held in a perfect bridal carry by the boy who had just returned from the dead—and didn't so much as blink. Her placid acceptance of our increasingly absurd domestic situation was a special kind of maternal power.
"Welcome back, you two," she said, her eyes landing on Jun. "Ah, Jun-kun, perfect timing. Your new uniform arrived this afternoon. It's in Yui's room. You should go try it on and see if it fits. If not, we can still send it back for adjustments."
She delivered this completely practical instruction without a single comment on my current, rather undignified, position. Jun simply nodded as if this were the most normal conversation in the world.
"I'll take a bath first," I announced, finally finding my voice. My skin felt clammy, and my mind was a chaotic storm of Aoi's tear-streaked face and the lingering pressure of her hand on Jun's neck. "So, you can let me down now."
He finally, reluctantly, lowered me to my feet. The sudden loss of his warmth left me feeling unsteady.
The bathroom was a sanctuary of steam and silence. As I sank into the hot water, the warmth seeped into my bones, but it couldn't reach the disquiet in my mind. I closed my eyes, but the image that floated to the surface was sharp and unwelcome: Aoi, her face a mask of raw anguish, leaning in to press her lips against Jun's cheek.
This is getting complicated, I thought, letting out a long, slow breath.
The strange thing was, I wasn't surprised. That kiss, born of desperation and years of unspoken feelings, wasn't a revelation. It was simply a confirmation of something I had always known, a piece of information I'd filed away so long ago it felt like a scene from someone else's childhood.
We were in kindergarten. I remember the smell of sun-baked earth from the playground and the bright, primary colors of the classroom. The teacher had asked everyone what they wanted to be when they grew up. Aoi, with her hair in two neat braids, had stood up and declared, "A housewife," with all the seriousness a five-year-old could muster. Then, in a whisper that was meant only for the teacher but that my ears caught anyway, she'd added, "Jun-kun's wife."
That childish whisper had echoed through the years, a quiet, constant hum beneath the surface of our friendship. Today's kiss was nothing but the sound finally breaking through the silence.
So why didn't I feel the sting of jealousy? Where was the hot surge of insecurity, the possessive anger that romance manga insisted I should be feeling?
Was it because my faith in Jun was so absolute that the thought of him loving anyone else was a logical impossibility? Or was it because the girl in question was... Aoi?
I sifted through my emotions, searching for betrayal or sadness, but I found neither. Instead, deep in my chest, I found a strange, quiet sense of... relief. Aoi's pain was now out in the open. It was Jun's job to fix it, as I commanded, but the honesty felt like a cleansing rain.
The most important thing right now, I told myself, is figuring out how the three of us can talk normally again. I let my head fall back against the smooth curve of the bathtub, the water lapping gently around my shoulders.
*
A sudden knock on the translucent door made me jump.
"Yui? Are you okay in there? You've been in there for a while," Jun's voice came, muffled but laced with concern. "I'm coming in!"
"Baka! I'm fine!" I yelped, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Don't you dare come in!" I was okay, but I was definitely not ready for that level of co-ed intimacy yet. Not when the air between us was already so charged.
He didn't come in, but I could see his tall silhouette lingering just outside the door. He wasn't leaving either. With a sigh of defeat, I finished my bath.
"Hand me the towel," I commanded. I opened the door just a crack, my arm snaking out. A large, fluffy towel was immediately pressed into my hand. I wrapped it securely around myself before stepping out of the humid bathroom.
Jun was standing there, his brow furrowed with genuine worry. "Are you really okay?"
I reached up, placing my hands on both of his cheeks. The skin was warm and familiar. "Yes, I am," I said, looking him straight in the eye, hoping he could see that I was telling the truth.
Back in the quiet of my bedroom, the world seemed to reset. Jun was already lying on my bed, completely engrossed in a shonen manga, the very picture of carefree indifference to the emotional turmoil of the day.
"Jun," I said, breaking the comfortable silence. "Your uniform. When are you going to try it on?"
"Oh, right," he slapped the book shut.
Without any warning, he stood up and pulled his t-shirt over his head, following it with his sweatpants. He was left in nothing but his boxers. I quickly averted my gaze, pretending to be deeply interested in the spine of my history textbook, even as the image of his toned back and the sharp line of his hips burned itself onto my peripheral vision.
He was done in seconds. The moment the long-sleeve school shirt was buttoned and the trousers were on, he said, "Yeah, I think it fits."
I let out an exaggerated sigh. "You're impossible. You'd wear a potato sack if it was comfortable. Spin around, let me see."
I stood and approached him. The uniform, for now, consisted of the standard white long-sleeved shirt and dark trousers; his blazer hadn't arrived yet. The simple white shirt stretched perfectly across his broad shoulders and tapered down his torso, highlighting how much he had grown in the two years he was gone. It fit him in a way that was almost offensively handsome.
"Hmm," I murmured, my hands starting their examination. I smoothed the fabric over his chest, ran my palms down his arms, and turned him to check the fit across his back. It was all a performance, a flimsy excuse to touch him, to reassure myself that he was real, that he was here.
"Yeah," I said finally, my voice a little breathless. My act was done. "I think it's alright."
My hands moved to the front of his shirt, my fingers finding the top button. I began to unfasten them, one by one. I waited for his usual teasing comment, a lighthearted quip about his 'wife' undressing him, but it never came. A heavy silence descended, filled only by the soft click of the buttons.
When the last one was undone, I looked up. His eyes were fixed on my face, his expression intense and unreadable. The silence stretched, and I could hear the frantic drumming of my own heart, a sound so loud I was sure he could hear it too.
He shrugged out of the shirt, placing it on my desk chair without ever breaking his gaze. The sight of his bare chest, the quiet power in his stillness, was too much. I couldn't stand the silence, the space, the question in his eyes.
I lunged forward, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my face in the warm expanse of his chest.
His arms instantly came around me, holding me tight. "Are you worried?" he whispered into my hair. "About Aoi and me?"
"That's not it," I mumbled into his skin, the words coming out before I could stop them. The response clearly confused him.
"Hmm?"
I pulled back just enough to look up at him. "But should I be worried?"
"Of course not." His answer was immediate, absolute.
"But I think I should... no," I corrected myself, struggling to voice the strange contradiction in my heart. "I think I'm supposed to be."
Jun just looked at me, his confusion deepening.
"I, as your lover, your fiancée, your wife, your girlfriend," I listed the titles on his chest, "should be mad when another girl kisses my boyfriend, right? Just like you said you would be. I'm supposed to feel all those things that would make me sad or angry."
My voice faltered. "But I didn't."
"Well, it's obvious," Jun said, a hint of his usual bravado returning as he tried to provide a logical reason. "It's because I've properly done my part as a boyfriend, right? I'm the one you can trust with all your heart. I guess this is proof of my hard work!"
I managed a weak smile. "I guess that's part of it, too." I paused, my gaze dropping. "I just wonder... if the one who kissed you wasn't Aoi, would I still feel the same?"
He listened, his playful expression softening as he processed the hidden meaning in my words. Aoi wasn't a rival. She was family. And the pain of a family member was a different entity entirely from the threat of a stranger.
"Listen," Jun said, his tone suddenly serious. He cut through all my spiraling thoughts with a single, abrupt declaration. "I'm sleeping with you tonight."
"Eh?!"
"I'm sleeping with you tonight!" he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And I'm not wearing a shirt!"
"What does that even—"
I never got to finish. His arms tightened, and he lifted me off my feet as if I weighed nothing. We fumbled and collapsed onto my bed in a tangled heap of limbs. He didn't let go, instead burying his head against my chest and nuzzling into me like a stubborn, overgrown cat. his hands beginning a slow, wandering exploration of my back that was sending shivers of both ticklishness and genuine excitement through me. If this kept going, I was afraid it wouldn't end with just his shirt being off tonight.
A laugh bubbled up out of me, a sound of pure, helpless joy. "Ah! Haha, stop! Okay, okay!" I gasped, squirming under his delightful assault. "But we have to eat dinner first! Mom's waiting!"