The next morning, I slipped out before Kurumi woke up, shooting her a text: "Gotta take care of some stuff."
Truth is… I just needed to breathe.
I had no idea the girlfriend question would come back to bite me this hard, but honestly? Fuck it.
What was she expecting me to say? Like, seriously.
I groaned just thinking about it.
I'll never understand women…
The Bolt driver leading me home raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
"Problems with your girlfriend?" he asked casually.
"Feels like sometimes shit I say gets taken out of context and conveniently misinterpreted. So… yeah, you could say that," I replied flatly.
The driver let out a low chuckle.
"You get used to it, man. Just don't let her know it affects you. They push harder if they think it does. Trust me—I know."
"Yeah… thanks for the advice," I shot back absentmindedly.
The rest of the ride went by quietly. I tipped the driver 1,000 yen, then stepped out, making my way up the stairs toward my place.
"Shiba-kun!" a voice called from behind.
I didn't even need to turn to know who it was—my idol neighbor.
But I did turn, raising a hand with a casual, "Yo."
Suzuki was carrying a bag, probably with convenience store stuff. Her hair was loose and messy, and she was wearing a simple shirt, shorts, and slippers.
"Hey… I saw your interview," she muttered, voice sharp but tinged with something else.
She paused, then lightly tapped my arm with her free hand.
"Look… I get why you'd tell them what happened," she said, eyes looking away for a second. "But… why didn't you say we made up? Or… do you still have a grudge against me?"
There it is. Perfect.
Bruh. Who thought my first interview would land me in this much trouble…
Truth is, I just forgot. DJK didn't even ask if me and Ai-chan are ok now.
"…I forgot. Sorry," I said flatly.
The moment the words left my mouth, Suzuki's face dropped.
She wasn't angry or annoyed. She wasn't even trying to act like the bratty, bossy idol who gets on my nerves.
She just seemed… hurt.
Her smile shrank, held in place out of habit. She looked away for a split second — but I caught it anyway. A tiny flinch.
"…You forgot," she repeated, softer this time.
Her fingers tightened around her bag strap.
"I see," she said, forcing a laugh. "That's… very like you, Shiba‑kun."
The laugh didn't reach her eyes. She wasn't mad, just... disappointed.
She straightened up, slipping back into idol mode.
"Right. Of course. It was a long time ago. I shouldn't have expected you to remember every little thing."
Every little thing?
Suzuki forced another smile — brighter, but smaller, like a sticker over a crack.
"Well… it's fine," she said, waving a hand lightly. "Really. I'm not upset."
And me? I could only blink.
…Why do I always manage to mess things up just by existing?
Am I cursed or something?
Without thinking, I reached out and hugged her.
Suzuki froze, her plastic bag slipping to the floor.
"S-Shiba‑kun??" she squeaked.
"Hey, I'm sorry. I really… I cherish you as a friend. I just… it was my first interview, I was nervous as hell, and I honestly had no idea what I was saying. I'm not used to this, okay?" I blurted, words spilling faster than Sora's verses.
Her arms wrapped around my back—slow, hesitant, like she wasn't sure she should.
"I-I‑I… thought you still hated me… I-I'm just… glad you don't…" she murmured, voice tiny, almost choking on her words.
I didn't answer. Just held her.
"U-um, Shiba‑kun! C-can you… let go? It's… embarrassing!"
I yanked my arms away like her back burned me.
"Sorry… so, uh, what were you up to? Shopping?" I asked, trying to shift the mood before it got any more awkward.
Suzuki's cheeks were still flushed. She let out a nervous little laugh.
"Oh, nothing big. I just felt like cooking… been eating way too much junk food lately, you know" she mumbled, twisting the strap of her bag.
"Oh… then I won't keep you busy," I said, trying not to trip over my own words.
Before she could answer, I turned and made my way back to my apartment.
I collapsed onto the bed, burying my face in the pillow. My phone hit the floor with a boom, screen cracking just a little.
Honestly… I hoped it would break.
I felt like crawling into a hole and staying there, buried in the dark for the rest of my stupid life.
Far away from school, bar shifts, crowded venues… and the mess with girls in my life.
At some point, I rolled around in bed so much I ended up dropping onto the floor.
Yeah… that tracks. And… you know what?
This is actually pretty comfortable.
Then the doorbell rang. I didn't feel like getting up.
"Yeah, I'm coming," I called out, not moving an inch.
Of course, the door opened anyway.
And in stepped none other than Suzuki.
She stopped in the doorway, staring down at me.
"…Shiba-kun, what are you doing?" she asked, eyebrow twitching.
A beat.
"Did you seriously just… give up on life and dropped on the floor?" she added, crossing her arms, clearly unimpressed.
Then, quieter—almost under her breath:
"…You'll catch a cold, idiot."
I let out a practiced yawn.
"Yeah… I don't really feel like getting up," I said.
Suzuki rolled her eyes.
"You know, I actually made extra food… and since I'm a generous friend, I figured you should eat something normal for once, instead of whatever junk you usually shove in your mouth," she said, her tone just a little sharp.
Then she stepped closer. When she reached me, I caught a glimpse under her skirt. Panties. Dark blue with star prints.
I barely had time to register before she stretched an arm toward me.
"So… quit acting like a lazy idiot and get up already," she barked, sharp and impatient.
I caught her hand, letting her pull me to my feet.
"Fine," I muttered.
She didn't let go. Not for a second.
Practically dragging me along, she led the way into her apartment, grip firm enough to remind me I had no say in the matter.
And, let me say, her apartment couldn't be more different from mine, even if it was the same size.
Light pink walls, posters of SIX STAR and her favorite idol bands. A narrow bed shoved into the far corner, piled with pillows and blankets.
A cramped sofa in the corner, a small coffee table stacked with magazines.
A desk under the window, stacked with notebooks, pens, a laptop, and a few plushies. A tiny vanity against the wall, brushes and makeup lined up like weapons.
The bathroom was just off the entrance, across from her closet.
A girly place, all in all.
"Sit on the couch. I'll be back with the food," she said.
I did as told. By the time I sat down, she already pushed the magazines aside, clearing space on the table like she planned this.
A minute later, she came back with two plates.
Rice. Grilled salmon. A small bowl of miso soup on the side.
She set everything down, then sat across from me, watching a little too closely.
"Well?" she asked, trying to sound casual.
I took a bite.
"…It's good," I said.
Her shoulders relaxed just a bit. She looked away, scoffing.
"Thanks," she muttered, looking away right after. "So… eat up, okay? Who knows when you'll get a proper meal again."
I decided to ignore the jab.
We didn't say much after that.
For a while, the only sounds in the room were the quiet clink of chopsticks and the oddly comfortable silence that settled between us.