In the end, Hikari let her sleep in his bed. It wasn't exactly the ideal situation, but seeing the fear in Mitsumi's eyes made it impossible to refuse. She had curled up beneath his blankets, hugging a pillow tightly to her chest, while he resigned himself to one of his spare mattresses laid out on the wooden floor beside his study desk. It wasn't the most comfortable arrangement, but it would do for one night.
With a sigh, he grabbed a pillow from his bed and rested his head on it, his body sinking into the mattress. The dim glow of his bedside lamp cast long shadows across the room, giving it a faint, golden hue. He turned to glance at the bed. Mitsumi was still awake, staring at the ceiling, her breathing shallow and uneven. Was she really that scared?
A memory surfaced—one from years ago. He had once been terrified of the dark too, unable to sleep without his parents by his side. The loneliness, the silence, the vast nothingness stretching into the abyss of night—it had unsettled him to no end. Maybe that was what Mitsumi was feeling right now. If so, he couldn't blame her.
His eyes grew heavy, his thoughts sluggish. Eventually, sleep took hold.
...kokoro no oku narihibiita boku no ne...inori no ukabu asu wa...
The familiar tune of his alarm blasted through the room, pulling Hikari out of the depths of sleep. His body resisted, weighed down by drowsiness, but the song continued to play, louder than necessary. Groggily, he reached out, searching for his phone with half-opened eyes. His fingers grazed the wooden floor, feeling around for the device, but something was stopping him from fully extending his arm.
It took a moment for his brain to catch up. Something was wrapped around his right hand. His grogginess faded instantly as his mind raced, flashes of past experiences hitting him like a shockwave. His stomach dropped. Slowly, hesitantly, he turned his head to confirm his suspicions.
His hunch was right. Mitsumi's hand was wrapped around his.
A wave of internal panic surged through him. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. And just like before, he found himself in a predicament that would undoubtedly escalate in the worst way possible. Technically, she was the one holding his hand, not the other way around. That made a difference, right?
Desperately, he stretched his left arm toward his phone, fingers fumbling against the screen. After what felt like an eternity, he managed to turn off the alarm, silencing the room at last. A relieved sigh escaped him, but the sense of unease still lingered. At least his parents wouldn't come barging in now—
BAM!
The door slammed open with a force that made Hikari's entire body jump. His heart nearly burst from his chest as his mother's voice rang out.
"Hikari, why is it taking you so long to turn off your—"
Her words died mid-sentence. Silence stretched thin, suffocating the air between them. Hikari, frozen on the floor, didn't dare move. His mother's gaze was locked onto the bed, her expression shifting into something unreadable. Her eyes darted from Mitsumi—who was still half-asleep and barely registering the commotion—to their intertwined hands.
Kyaaa! Why does it always happen to me?!
If that wasn't bad enough, footsteps echoed from the hallway. His father appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes beneath the frames of his glasses. "What's wrong, hon—"
Then he saw it.
A tense pause filled the room, thick as fog. His father adjusted his glasses with a slow, deliberate movement, his expression unreadable. But Hikari knew. He knew that look. It was the expression his father wore when something deeply, profoundly displeased him.
Mitsumi, still groggy, finally noticed the presence of his parents. Her tired eyes widened, realization dawning on her as she quickly let go of his hand. "Ah! S-Sorry, Hikari! I—"
"I was scared last night and I just… I just needed to make sure you were there." Her voice was small, apologetic.
Hikari swallowed hard. "No, it's fine."
No, it wasn't fine. Nothing about this was fine. His mother still hadn't spoken. His father's stern eyes bore into him. The silence was more terrifying than any reprimand.
"Hikari." His father's voice was calm, but the weight behind it sent a chill down his spine. "Come with me."
A firm hand gripped his arm, pulling him to his feet. Cold sweat prickled at the back of his neck. He gulped. This was it. This was how he was going to die.
With heavy steps, he followed his father down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Each step felt like a march to his doom. His father didn't say a word until they reached the living room. The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting long shadows against the wooden floor. The clock on the wall ticked rhythmically, each second stretching unbearably long.
Finally, his father turned to him, arms crossed. "Now," he began, his voice measured, "why is she sleeping in your room?"
A nervous laugh bubbled up inside him, but he swallowed it down. His father's expression left no room for humor. "She was scared," Hikari explained hastily. "She had nowhere else to go, and I couldn't exactly kick her out…"
His father's brow twitched, his glasses catching the light. "Scared?"
"She was followed last night. It freaked her out. I couldn't just leave her alone."
A long, scrutinizing silence followed. His father studied him, as if weighing the truth in his words. The tension in the air was suffocating. Then, to Hikari's surprise, his father exhaled heavily and rubbed his temples.
"You could have slept with her in the living room," he muttered.
Hikari blinked. "Huh?"
"Next time," his father said, leveling him with a pointed look, "you sleep in the living room."
Relief washed over him, though it didn't completely erase his lingering anxiety. That… could have gone much worse.
His mother's voice called from upstairs. "Breakfast is ready!"
His father sighed. "Go eat. We'll talk later."
Hikari didn't need to be told twice. He practically bolted towards the kitchen, eager to escape further questioning. Mitsumi was already seated at the table, her face flushed with embarrassment as she poked at her food. His mother, surprisingly, didn't say anything about the morning's incident, though her gaze occasionally flickered between them.
As he took a seat, Mitsumi glanced at him sheepishly. "Sorry about that…"
Hikari sighed, picking up his chopsticks. "Let's just eat."