Chapter 5.5
I step into the entryway.
My ears are still attuned to the faded chatter from the other room, and I half expect… something.
Someone talking about me. Someone coming after me.
But…
Nope.
Maybe there’s people whispering about me that I can’t hear, but as far as I know, they’ve already moved on.
Okay then.
I step outside and close the door behind me with a click.
I can’t hear the study group at all anymore, and the sudden quiet is honestly a bit jarring.
Not unpleasant, though.
Definitely not.
I close my eyes.
Breathe in.
Feel the warmth of the sun on my face.
Breathe out.
I imagine all the stress leaving my body.
It always feels like a weird little superstition when I do that, but what can I say? It works, so I do it.
After a few minutes of breathing out stress, I can fool myself into imagining that it’s all gone.
Which means… maybe I should go back inside?
Aaaand the stress is back.
Okay. Guess I’m staying outside for a bit.
Let Kurokawa-san tire herself out a bit before I try it again.
I mean, that has to happen eventually, right?
Then again, I think I remember overhearing something about her having more energy drinks in her bag, so I guess I could be out here for a while if that’s the idea.
Technically I did say I was gonna go get the mail. That was mainly just an excuse to get out of there, but I guess I could just, like, wait outside for however long it takes to get the mail.
Or… how long they think it takes to get the mail?
Do they even know where my mailbox is? It’s, like, in a whole different building.
Ugh. Fuck it. If I’m gonna overthink things this much, I might as well make myself useful and actually just go get the mail.
I start toward the stairs.
And make it halfway down a single staircase—the first of five, mind you—before my mind turns to my phone again.
I wonder if I have any—
NOPE.
Not going there.
Just keep walking, Sakuragi.
Keeeeep walking.
I keep walking.
For the other half of that staircase.
Aaaand then pull out my phone.
Goddammit.
I open LINE and tap over to my chats.
Check the top name.
…
Double-check the top name.
It doesn't change.
Apparently my phone is adamant that my most recently updated conversation is with…
‘Fujimura Ren’.
Which…
Like…
What?
For a second, I just stare at it—not walking, not moving, not even breathing, as if it’s a frightened animal I might spook with any sudden movements.
He messaged me.
When?
How long has that been sitting there?
Did I miss the notification?
What did he say?
My thumb hovers over his name.
Okay.
Okay, don’t be weird about it.
It’s just a message.
From… Fujimura.
Who hasn’t talked to me in almost two weeks.
And who apparently decided to start doing so again while I wasn’t looking.
I tap the chat.
A single new message is there, received about an hour ago.
“thanks”
I blink.
Read it again.
“thanks”
Okay, so I wasn’t reading it wrong the first time.
But.
Like.
That’s it?
Almost two weeks, and that’s what I get? A single word?
I went out of my way to warn him.
Stayed up half the fucking night thinking about whether I even should.
Spent ten days wondering if he’d answer, if—
Nope.
Fuck this.
If Fujimura doesn’t want to talk to me, then fine.
I don’t want to talk to him either.
I lock my phone and shove it back into my pocket.
There.
Done.
No more checking.
No more wondering.
No more Fujimura.
Sayonara, fucker.
-----
I walk down the other four staircases and across our apartment complex, my blood boiling the whole time.
The main office is closed on the weekends, but the mail cubbies are in an entryway tenants can unlock themselves. In the case of our apartment, ‘tenants’ usually means ‘me’—one less thing for Mom to worry about—so I usually have the key on me just in case.
I unlock the front door.
Walk inside.
Unlock our mailbox.
Pull out the contents.
Start looking through them.
Flyer.
Junk mail.
Junk mail.
Flye—ow.
I feel a sharp pain in my finger.
Hold it up to scrutiny.
A small bead of red forms on my brand-new paper cut.
Sigh.
Great.
Just fan-fucking-tastic.
I stick my finger in my mouth and take several deep breaths through my nose.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
I have to get a hold of myself.
I’m fine.
Everything is fine.
It’s not like he and I were real friends anyways.
If anything, this is back to normal, back to the way things were last month.
Breathe in through the nose.
Breathe out through the nose.
I pop my finger out of my mouth and stare at it for a second, waiting for another bead of red to form.
It doesn’t.
So that’s good at least.
Right.
Mail.
I look down at the mail I’m apparently still holding and carefully send the one carrying my DNA to the back of the pile.
Next is more junk mail.
Then another flyer.
Then—
…
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
An unassuming cream-white envelope has been addressed to ‘The Sakuragi Family’ in what looks like calligraphy.
The return address is written in that same hand—
‘The Fujimura Family’.
Sigh.
Hello again, fucker.