HaruGou: Drabbles
By Confused Panda Bear
Thirty-Eight
"Make-Believe"
They could have been brothers.
At least, that was what her drunken-self had thought, when she was two shots of tequila into the night and had picked out his dark head of hair amongst the Friday-night crowd at the local student bar.
Even now, with eyes half-asleep and blinded by the rising sun, she could see the similarities.
He had stood at least a head taller than her, and his body was lean and shaped like a swimmers. It had been something of a talking point for the both of them: due to the fact that her ex-boyfriend had been a swimmer too.
He repeated: "ex-boyfriend?" with emphasis on the 'ex' — and Gou mentally slapped herself for bringing something like that up in front of a cute guy that seemed somewhat interested in getting to know her.
"That's right," she said, in a no-big-deal kind of way, and with apparently enough assuredness not to drive him into someone else's arms for the evening.
He smiled, a dimple appearing on his left cheek.
"So it's ok if I offer to buy you another drink?"
Slowly, her vision focused on the sleeping form next to her, breathing even and content.
And as she began to recall exactly what had happened between them the night before, the realisation that they were not as alike as she had previously thought sunk in somewhere deep in her gut.
With feathlight fingers, Gou reached out to brush aside the hair on his forehead.
It was not as dark as she remembered, but a shade of teal in the morning sunlight. He kept it longer too, falling across his eyes and onto the mattress they had shared.
He was just as handsome, of course, — pretty, even — with delicate features and eyelashes that any girl in the world would envy.
She remembered his hands on her body, his mouth on hers and his eyes staring down at her in awe.
His eyes.
Yes, that was it.
She remembered thinking now, that they weren't quite right.
They weren't blue.
Gou rolled over onto her back and screwed her own firmly shut, the effort straining on her already pounding head.
What was his name again? Ikuya Kirishi — something?
With about as much remorse as she had for forgetting his name, Gou was dressed and tip-toeing out of his apartment before he came even close to waking up.
And going by how her body ached and complained from their activities the night before, she figured that it would be a while before he realised that she was gone too.
The walk of shame across campus was particularly sobering in the early spring time.
Spring usually meant new beginnings — but it also meant him and both of them were cold bastards— so distract herself from the fact that she could see every breath that she took, Gou checked her phone to find six missed calls from her brother and a few voicemails too.
She had no intention of returning them anytime soon, but before she could even contemplate her excuses, the device came to life in her hand.
There was an international phone number that she did not recognise, flashing across its screen.
"Hello?"
"Kou?" came his deep, rich tenor, wrapping itself around her heart, and all of a sudden, it felt like summer six months ago, warming her body from inside out.
It was astounding, how a single syllable could make it seem as if only days had passed since then.
How the sound of his voice could fill her to the brim with hope and anticipation that no longer existed between them.
"Hey, Kou? Are you there?" he said again, with a little more urgency.
She sat, knees threatening to buckle, on a park bench to steady herself — too in shock to register its icy surface against her bare legs in that mini skirt she decided to wear the night before without much thought about the morning after.
"Y—yes," she managed. "Haruka-senpai?"
He breathed a sigh of relief and for a few seconds, Gou savoured the tiny possibility that he still cared about her, that she was still a part of his world.
"I'm glad I got through to you," he said, so tenderly that it took her a moment to formulate a response.
"I—is there something wrong?"
"Where were you last night?"
He asked this, with a hint of accusation.
It was as though he believed that she was still obligated to inform him of her whereabouts, and there was a small part of her — a residue from dating him for so long — that still felt like she was.
Another, newer and more hardened part of her however, felt like responding with: what the fuck?
"Who wants to know?" she went with instead.
"Your brother," Haru answered, a little exasperated. "He's called me like ten times already. Apparently, he can't get a hold of you. He keeps asking me 'what I've done to you now…'"
He couldn't help but sound amused and Gou wanted to laugh along too — because it had been months since they had broken up, but they weren't quite at that point of joking about it just yet.
"I'll call him back," she promised.
"Please do," he said, serious once more.
She expected him to sign off and ignore her existence again, but he lingered: simmering on the deafening silence with a thousand and one things they had to say but neither had enough courage to between them.
They did not need to speak much when they were together, anyways.
At first, Gou would try to fill the gaps in their conversations with chatter about this and that, until one day she found herself comfortable enough with their silence to say nothing: learning to enjoy his presence and even now, the knowledge that after all this time, it was really him speaking to her on the other end of the line.
Finally, he asked out of pure curiosity:
"So, where were you all night, to drive your brother crazy like that?" and she decided to say, half wanting to hurt his feelings and half unable to disclose the entire truth:
"You won't like the answer."
Haru paused, for the longest five seconds of her life.
"Lie to me then."
Silence reigned between them again, sending her heart into overdrive and building up a painful pressure in her chest.
Her throat muscles tensed and her head was spinning, but Gou forced out a vague, non-committal response all the same.
"I was out with friends," she said, the corners of her eyes stinging as she added: "though, it's really none of your business anymore, Haruka-senpai."
Even though she was impressed with her own ability to keep a level tone, Gou bent her head into her palms and stared down at the concrete between her feet, waiting for Haru to go in for the kill.
"Sorry. I shouldn't have asked," he said, to her surprise, and after a minute added, "I shouldn't have called."
"No, you shouldn't have had."
"I was worried."
"I'm fine," Gou emphasised, so unconvincing that Haru pressed:
"Are you sure?"
Of course, she was the furthest thing from it.
Because even after everything he had done, his voice, though thousands of miles away, was already assuming its place inside the cavity in her chest.
And soon enough, she was crying — her natural reaction with all things related to him these days — and the shame of what she had done finally registering and forcing her to come to terms with the undeniable fact that she was still, irrevocably in love with Nanase Haruka.
"What's wrong?" he asked as if he had absolutely nothing to do with it.
"I can't keep doing this anymore," she admitted, tearfully. "I can't keep kissing strangers and pretending that they're you."