The steam from the bathroom still lingered faintly on Jousuke's skin as he stepped into the living room, his damp hair clinging to his forehead. The house was quiet. Not silent—just… gentle. The kind of quiet that comes after days of heaviness, when everyone is too tired to speak loudly.
He sat down on the sofa and looked at his phone lying screen-down on the table.
He exhaled, slow.
There were a lot of notifications. Missed calls. Messages. Group chats. Mentions.
It made his chest tighten—not in a painful way—but in a way that reminded him that he was not alone, even when he tried to be.
He reached for the phone.
He didn't open everything.
Just four.
1. The Group Chat — "The Usual Idiots"
Asa: Bro we're glad you're home. Don't disappear again.
Kaito: If you need air, we'll walk with you. If you need to yell, we'll listen. If you need to cry, we'll sit next to you.
Joutarou: Sleep tonight, alright? Don't think. Just sleep.
Natsu: We're here.
No dramatics. No forced comfort.
Just presence.
Jousuke's throat tightened. Not enough to cry. Just enough to remind him something inside him was bruised.
He didn't reply.
Not yet.
2. From "..."
The message wasn't long.
I don't know how you feel right now.
But I'm glad you're okay.
I don't want to force anything.
I just… don't want you to be alone.
If you ever want to talk, I will listen.
You don't have to choose anything yet.
There was no begging.
No pressure.
No fear disguised as kindness.
Just constant, steady presence.
His heart reacted before his mind did.
He set the phone down.
He didn't look at the message again.
3. From "..."
Long. Hesitant. Typed and erased many times before sending.
I'm sorry… for what happened.
I didn't mean for things to get so hard.
I was scared.
I didn't know what to do.
I won't lie — I still love you.
But I don't want to hurt you more.
So I'll wait.
Even if the answer is something I don't want.
Her message trembled.
She was trying to grow.
Trying really, really hard.
He could feel it.
4. From "..."
Short. Sharp. Honest.
I still love you.
I won't apologize for that.
But I'm sorry I hurt Leah and Miyazaki-san.
I'm trying to change.
I don't know if I can.
But I'm trying.
Nothing more.
Rika never used more words than necessary.
Jousuke leaned back against the sofa, his phone resting on his chest, rising and falling with his breath.
Three girls.
Three hearts.
Three different kinds of love.
But love wasn't something you measured.
It wasn't something you owed.
His grandpa once said:
"You choose the person you can cry in front of without shame."
He didn't know what that meant yet.
Not fully.
But he was getting closer.
He heard footsteps.
Soft.
Uncertain.
His sister, Miri, peeked into the living room, hugging a pillow to her chest like a shield.
"...Jousuke?"
Her voice was small, but not fragile.
Jousuke glanced at her.
She had been crying earlier.
Her eyes were still slightly swollen.
She approached slowly, sitting beside him without waiting for permission.
She stayed quiet for a moment.
Then—
"Are you okay?"
The question was simple.
But it wasn't light.
Jousuke stared at the ceiling.
"I don't know," he answered.
Miri pressed her lips together.
Not disappointed.
Not upset.
Just… there.
She hugged her pillow a little tighter.
"You don't have to know yet," she said softly. "You went through a lot."
He didn't respond.
She continued.
"You know… when grandpa died, I thought you hated me." Her voice wavered. "Because I didn't know what to say. Or how to act. And I thought you needed me to say something. But I didn't say anything."
Jousuke turned his head, slowly.
Miri stared ahead, not at him.
"I was scared you'd disappear," she whispered. "And then you did."
Silence.
Not heavy.
Just real.
Jousuke lowered his gaze.
"…I wasn't running from you," he said quietly.
"I know."
Her voice cracked.
"But I was still scared."
He could've apologized.
He could've explained everything.
He could've cried.
But he didn't.
Instead, she leaned sideways and rested her head against his shoulder.
Warm. Familiar. Family.
"Jousuke," she murmured, "can I say something… maybe stupid?"
"Yeah."
"You don't have to choose the person who needs you the most," she whispered. "Choose the person you need the most."
His breath caught.
Very small.
Very quiet.
But real.
He turned his head slightly.
Miri was blinking back tears again.
Not because she was sad.
But because she was growing up too.
Jousuke didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
The living room felt warmer now.
Not healed.
Not fixed.
Just… breathing.
And for the first time in weeks—
So was he.