Chapter 21 – The Morning After (But Not Like That)

Haru woke to sunlight spilling across her futon like a cruel reminder.

Her first thought wasn’t good morning. It was Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.

Last night replayed in her head like a movie on loop—the balcony, city lights glimmering behind Aya like a halo of temptation, her own voice cracking as she blurted out the truth she’d buried for weeks:

I don’t care about the rumors. I… want you too.

And then—Aya’s hands cupping her face, warm and steady, and that kiss. Slow, deep, and so sure it made Haru feel like the ground had disappeared beneath her feet.

Haru groaned into her pillow. I really said that. I kissed her back. I—

A knock at the door made her jolt so hard she nearly rolled off the futon.

“Newbie, breakfast,” Aya’s voice called, smooth and casual, like nothing earth-shattering had happened last night.

Haru’s heart slammed into her ribs. Breakfast?! How can she just—like—after—?!

---

Haru dragged herself out of bed, slapped on her glasses, and stumbled to the kitchen. Aya was already at the table, hair pulled up in a messy bun, tank top and shorts hugging her toned frame like a walking sin.

“Morning,” Aya said easily, flipping a piece of toast onto Haru’s plate. “You sleep okay?”

Haru’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “Uh. Y-Yeah. Fine. Totally fine.”

Aya hummed, pouring herself coffee. “That so?”

Haru sat down, clutching her chopsticks like a lifeline, and tried very hard not to look at the way Aya’s collarbone peeked from her tank top.

For a few blessed minutes, the only sounds were clinking dishes and the faint hum of the city outside. Haru almost convinced herself she could pretend last night didn’t happen.

Until Aya leaned back in her chair, took a lazy sip of coffee, and said with infuriating calm:

“You looked cute when you confessed.”

Haru choked on her miso soup. “Wh—what?!”

Aya’s lips curved in a slow, dangerous smile. “What? You didn’t think I’d forget, did you?”

Haru’s entire soul combusted. “I—I wasn’t—It wasn’t—”

Aya propped her chin on her hand, eyes glinting like a cat playing with its favorite toy. “Relax, newbie. I liked it.”

Haru made a strangled noise that might have been human speech and shoved rice into her mouth just to keep from screaming.

---

After breakfast, Haru escaped to the bathroom, gripping her toothbrush like a weapon. She stared at her reflection, cheeks blazing crimson, muttering, “Pull it together, Haru. You can’t—You have to act normal—”

The door swung open.

Aya. Of course it was Aya. In all her six-foot, athletic glory, holding her own toothbrush like this was the most normal thing in the world.

“Move over,” she said casually, nudging Haru toward the sink.

Haru’s brain short-circuited as Aya stepped beside her, close enough that their arms brushed every time they raised their toothbrushes. The mirror reflected the two of them standing there like some domestic couple, and Haru wanted to melt straight into the floor.

Aya caught her staring and smirked around a mouthful of foam. “What? Never brushed your teeth next to someone before?”

Haru turned scarlet. “N-Not like this!”

Aya chuckled, spitting into the sink. “Get used to it.”

Get used to it?! Haru’s heart did a triple somersault and crashed straight into her stomach.

---

When they finished, Haru retreated to the living room, thinking she’d finally have a moment to breathe. She was wrong.

Aya strolled in, grabbed Haru’s mug off the table, and took a long sip without asking.

Haru gawked. “Hey! That’s mine!”

Aya shrugged, settling onto the couch like a queen on her throne. “It tastes better when it’s yours.”

Haru’s brain promptly blue-screened.

Aya glanced up, eyes locking with hers, and for a fraction of a second—just a sliver—Haru swore she saw something soft, something dangerous flicker there.

Then Aya smirked, lifting the mug in a mock toast. “Relax. I’ll make it up to you later.”

Make it up how?! Haru’s thoughts screamed loud enough to drown out the TV.

---

Haru fled to her room, slamming the door behind her, collapsing onto her futon with a groan so loud it startled a passing pigeon outside.

Her face burned. Her heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Her hands shook like leaves in a storm.

How am I supposed to survive living with her now?