Morning
Hana woke up somewhere between dream and reality. For a moment, she didn't know where she was. Only that everything was quiet.
The first thing she felt was the warmth beside her. And a hand that was still lightly touching her own. Gentle. Just as gentle as last night, when Lyra had offered it to her.
The second thing she felt was, once again, the sweat-soaked pillow.
She held her breath, barely daring to move. Her fingers felt stiff, like she first had to check whether all of this had really happened.
Lyra was lying on her back, her face half buried in the pillow. White hair spread over her shoulder. Her hand still resting against Hana's.
Shame stabbed at Hana's throat. As if she had used Lyra. As if she had asked for more than she had any right to.
Lyra did it willingly, right? She had agreed. But… was it really okay? Or had she only said yes because she felt obligated?
The fear that she had demanded too much stayed. As if she had clung to something that might never have been meant for her.
She could barely remember the last time she had been this close to someone. Without money being involved.
Hana searched for her phone and found it somewhere under her pillow. The display read 11:03 A.M.
Shit.
I completely forgot about lunch with my parents. Every Saturday.
She rubbed her face with both hands. Her stomach tightened, but not from hunger.
She forced herself out of the blanket, gathered her scattered things, and tried not to make a sound. Lyra was still asleep, a strand of hair in her face, cheek pressed into the pillow. She looked strangely peaceful. For a moment, Hana just stood there and stared at her.
In the bathroom, Hana let cold water run over her face until her skin felt numb. She didn't smell like Lyra. Only like herself, and that was the smell she wanted gone most.
She grabbed Lyra's deodorant and sprayed it over her neck, her wrists, even a little into her hair. Then perfume. So much that she made herself cough.
Sorry, Lyra. I'll buy you a new one later.
She put on her jeans from last night, then reached for the black shirt with the upside-down cross.
She paused.
There was no way she could show up to Saturday lunch with her parents wearing that. Not even hidden under a jacket. Just the thought of her mother throwing a side-eye at the satanic shirt made her flinch.
Hana looked around the room. Her gaze landed on a pile of neatly folded laundry on Lyra's chair. She grabbed one of her shirts. White, with a black bat. Should work. The moment she pulled it on, she felt the fabric stretch across her shoulders and chest.
"Why do you have to be so damn skinny…" she murmured, tugging at the sleeves like she could stretch it out that way.
She risked a glance in the mirror.
Have I really gained that much weight? I should probably… what? Go jogging?
Her lower lip pushed forward stubbornly.
C'mon. As if I had the energy for that.
She made a face and shook the thought away.
Main thing is to have no cross on my chest.
Somewhere in the hallway, she dug a crushed pack of gum out of her bag and popped two pieces in her mouth. The sweet taste was supposed to cover up something, even though she knew it wouldn't be enough.
In the kitchen, she found an empty water bottle, quickly filled it, and took a small sip. Her mouth was dry and her hands were shaking slightly.
Before she left, she paused. For a moment, she looked back into the room.
"Thanks, Lyra. I know I never say it. But…"
Even though she was asleep, Hana hoped Lyra could hear it.
Then Hana quietly pulled the door shut behind her. She shuffled down the stairs, two steps at a time, hoping she could just rush through the building without running into anyone.
Of course, she wasn't that lucky.
Mrs. Ishimori was already standing in the ground-floor hallway, wearing her bathrobe and holding a big cup of coffee. Her eyes were wide awake, inspecting Hana from head to toe.
"Oh! Good morning… you're new here, aren't you?"
Hana hunched her shoulders, forced a small smile, and briefly raised her hand. The peace sign was her signature move, after all.
"Morning."
"Are you visiting someone? Or do you live here now?"
Her voice sounded friendly, but something about it reminded Hana of a ticket inspector on the subway.
"Just visiting. I… gotta go now." She squeezed past the mailboxes, keeping her head down.
Mrs. Ishimori didn't let up, took another step closer like she had all the time and boredom in the world for twenty questions. "Oh? Visiting who, then? Do I know them? I've heard almost all the names in this building at some point."
Hana avoided her gaze.
"A friend."
"Ah, a friend…? From which floor?"
Ishimori looked like she was genuinely running through every apartment in her head.
Hana shrugged, eyes still down. "Somewhere upstairs. I really gotta go now."
Mrs. Ishimori raised her eyebrows like she was expecting something more, but Hana was already heading for the door.
"Well then, have a nice day…" the old lady called after her. Hana muttered a "You too" without turning around.
As soon as the door closed, Mrs. Ishimori stood in the hallway for a little longer. She frowned and watched Hana leave. Her gaze lingered on the white shirt, it looked strangely familiar.
She shook her head and smiled to herself.
"So Miss Aihara does have some cute friends after all."
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Gas station first, Hana thought. A small detour, but necessary.
Inside, the cashier only looked at her briefly before looking away again. She grabbed a small bottle of vodka, peach flavored, plus a Coke, a mouth spray, and an energy drink for later. The cashier scanned everything without comment, only asked: "Bag?"
"Aw yeah, thanks!" She smiled.
Hopefully my parents won't notice. Fuck, but what if they do?
Outside the gas station, Hana leaned against the cold wall and pulled the small bottle from the bag. A quick look left and right. No one there.
She downed the vodka in two big gulps. Right after, the mouth spray, way too much, until it stung her tongue. She grimaced and checked her phone. The bus should be there in four minutes.
Hana took a window seat, pressed her forehead against the glass, and tried to think about nothing. The alcohol was already buzzing through her blood. The mouth spray still burned in her throat.
Two stops later, she got off. The walk to her parents' house was short. The house looked as neat as always from the outside, the roses in the front yard trimmed.
The front door opened before she could ring the bell. Her mother stood there, beaming like Hana had just come back from a year abroad.
"There you are! Come in, sweetie! Your father's already in the kitchen."
Hana forced a smile and stepped inside. The hallway smelled like fresh bread and too much laundry detergent.
Her father appeared from the kitchen, his smile flawless. "Good to see you. Sit down, your mother cooked like the old days."
At the table, everything was perfectly arranged, as if order alone could fix everything. Hana sat down and tried not to stand out. Her hands trembled just slightly.
Water was poured and soup placed in front of her as an appetizer.
Her mother smiled. "See? It works when you just want it. Two months sober. You already look so much more… put together."
As if Hana had simply not wanted it enough before.
Hana smiled, kept the panic beneath the surface.
"Thanks, Mom." The words came automatically. "I'm really doing well."
Her mother reached for her hand, just briefly.
"What did I tell you? It was just a matter of discipline."
As if it were that simple.
"We're relieved."
Hana pulled her hand back and took a sip of water. Her heart was racing.
"Speaking of which…" Her mother sliced the bread, casual. "We ran into Syon the other day. Look what he's become!"
A proud smile, as if he were her son.
"So polite, so well-groomed. He said he's studying medicine."
The contrast went unspoken, but was there.
"You two used to be inseparable. Are you still in touch?" A meaningful pause. "Someone like him could be really good for you. Motivating, you know?"
Something snapped inside Hana's head. A crack in the record. Her smile froze.
For a moment, all she heard was blood rushing.
Her fingers clenched around the glass.
And suddenly she was back there. His room. His hands.
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Two years ago.
They hadn't done anything special all day. Ordered pizza, watched anime together, cuddled on the couch, and laughed about completely random things. Hana had laid her head on Syon's chest, that familiar, safe rhythm of his breathing that had so often helped her calm down.
It wasn't exciting, but right now it just gave her something to hold onto in life. Especially after all the shit lately.
Someone who just took her as she was. Who gave her attention.
She looked up at him and saw that slightly crooked grin only he had. He brushed a strand of hair from her face and kissed her gently on the forehead.
Hana smiled and pulled the blanket over her legs. Her voice was barely audible, like she was afraid the words might break if she said them too loud. "You know… I think I really love you." A pause. "Like, for real."
Syon laughed softly, and pulled her closer. "Of course I know that." His fingers ran through her hair. "I love you too, dummy."
They stayed like that for a while, talking about everything and nothing, hands intertwined.
Later, in the bedroom, Syon gently pushed her onto the bed, kissed her, first carefully, then harder. Hana let it happen, feeling how the closeness softened her.
His hands were warm, knew every scar, every tremble, every weak spot. She trusted him, kept her eyes closed and breathed deeply.
"Do you… really like me?" she whispered.
"What?" He grinned. "You're literally my favorite person. Of course I like you."
He kissed her neck, his hand slowly sliding under her shirt. She laughed, a little nervous.
"Syon, wait… not tonight, okay?"
He barely reacted, kept pushing, pulled her shirt up, kissed her skin and moved his hand lower.
Hana turned her face away, laughed uncertainly.
"Really… let's just sleep. Today was really nice. I need you emotionally tonight, not… not like this."
He held her tight, kissed her cheek. "Hey, don't be like that." His voice soft, almost pleading. "I just want to be with you. That's okay, right?" His hand wandered down again.
"We love each other, don't we?"
He kissed her harder and harder, his hands became rough.
Hana flinched and tried to gently push him away.
"Syon, please… not tonight, really."
But he didn't stop. He grabbed her wrists, held them down, his weight pressing her into the mattress.
"Hana, come on." His voice still quiet but tense. "You always do this. You always pull back when I really want you." His fingers dug harder into her wrists. "I need you too, you know? I'm only human."
Her breath hitched. "Syon, please." Her voice broke. "Stop. Please, I don't want this."
But he didn't listen. His fingers dug deeper into her skin as he pulled off her shirt. She tried to turn away, but he was stronger.
"No… please…" Tears ran down her face. "You're HURTING me…"
He didn't answer. His movements were mechanical, almost absent. He tugged at her pants, his hands rough.
More tears spilled. She pressed her hands against his chest, tried to push him off, but he was too heavy. "Syon, I love you, please stop…"
Nothing. No reaction. Only his heavy breathing, smelling of alcohol, filled the room.
Then he entered her. She screamed out in pain, tried to twist away, but his weight held her down. Every thrust burned, tore deeper, and all she could do was whimper, burying her face in the blanket.
"Please… please stop…"
He groaned, his face against her neck. And then it slipped out. Quietly. Lyra's name.
The world stopped.
Hana froze. Tears dried on her cheeks. Her heart shattered into a thousand pieces that second.
Syon froze too. His movements stopped abruptly.
He pulled out, stumbled off the bed. His face ash-pale, eyes wide. Like that one damn name let him realize what he just did.
Hana lay there, trembling, broken, while he hastily got dressed. His hands were shaking, he could barely button his pants.
He looked at her. Really looked at her, for the first time since… he didn't know how long. And what he saw stole the air from his lungs.
Her naked body. The tears. The way she curled up, like she wanted to disappear.
Disgust crossed his face. Disgust at himself. He shook his head, backed away, like her closeness would burn him. Because he couldn't stand himself in that moment.
"I…" His voice broke. But there was nothing to say. Nothing that could undo this.
He turned around, left the room. The door slammed shut.
Hana stayed behind, shaking, hands pressed over her ears as if she could block everything out. But inside her head it echoed, over and over and over.
Lyra. He said Lyra.
But beneath all the pain, beneath all the tears, only one feeling remained.
I love you.
I love you…
Why… Lyra?