"What would he think if he saw you like this?" Irie asks, lifting her hand and placing it on his shoulder. "Would he cry? I bet he would," Irie says, gazing down at her. "I bet he would come and lay his hand on me again, just for your sake."

"You'll always love me, Kotoko. Don't run away from me. You'll always have me in your heart, but you already know that, right? You've always known that; I'm the only one you'll ever love. Right? Kotoko?" His voice goes down, low, and he watches Kotoko, with an unfamiliar expression on his face. His entire body is tense; she can feel it through the thin fabric of his shirt. Irie searches her eyes, his expression unfamiliar and unreadable.

"Would you chase after him if we weren't married?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy, but still, Kotoko doesn't speak. Irie doesn't seem to sense her discomfort, or maybe he just doesn't want to. Maybe he doesn't care. He doesn't care, no, because he continues his verbal assault.

"But what does it matter? You're all over him, even though you've got my name on you. You're shameless," Irie says, stepping forward on a stray, forgotten pen. It clicks and squeaks, loudly, right in her ear, and the sound repeats like an alarm until she comes back to a still angry Irie.

"Does he know about what we do? Does he? Of course he does, and I bet he wishes he were in my place. I bet he's thinking about all the ways he can take advantage of you, but what do you know about that? No, you — you don't know anything, crawling into the lap of any man who so much as glances at you! Tell me, what do you know?" Irie's yelling, really yelling, and he's pointing fingers at her and his usually neat tie is loose, and he's even got his books on the floor and Kotoko wonders why and when she became this kind of woman.

The kind of stupid, foolish woman, who's life is predicted by a man, centered around a man, and determined by a man. In her alleged case, multiple men. And what does she do each time? Fall for the man, then her entire life becomes him.

Wait. No. That's… that's not true. Irie is exaggerating, she doesn't — no, she's not that type of woman, she can't be, he's — he's lying!

"That's not true, you're wrong," Kotoko starts, but all Irie does is glare at her, so much anger in his eyes that she tenses up. He's so close to her, almost pressing her against the wall. She feels stuck. Mentally. Physically. She doesn't want to move her hand away from his shoulder, but she also isn't afraid of Irie. Not anymore.

She moves her hand off of his shoulder.

"Leave him," Irie says suddenly, taking her other arm. "Leave him! You only love me," and his voice is strained, something she's never heard in her entire life with Irie. "You only love me, Kotoko," Irie says, a sort of desperation creeping into his voice, and Kotoko bolts out from underneath him, running out of his study.

He calls out for her, his voice loud and all around her, and even though Mama and Uncle and Dad and even Yuuki join on the chase, she doesn't feel any remorse. She doesn't feel any shame.

No.

You're shameless, repeats in her head, as she runs to the train station, late at night. Kotoko doesn't care. Let anyone find her. Anyone but Irie. Anyone but Keita. Anyone but them. She prays, prays that anyone but them find her, but she can't continue her prayer, too choked up by her own tears, her own anguish.

Why does he hate me? Why on earth would Keita like me? Why would he? Kotoko thinks and thinks and thinks until Irie and Keita both turn into the same sort of person, a man with two faces, a man who's one person in public and another in private. She feels her vision blur as she walks the streets, and when she passes her destination she imagines high school Irie on the subway, his back turned to her.

She imagines Keita on a payphone, dialing a number, dialing her number. She knows Irie and Keita are both angry at her, angry at each other, angry at themselves.

It doesn't start to rain, to her dismay. She wants to wallow in her sadness, have her anguish envelop her; she wants to embody her feelings. Though she is an open book, she really is, it must not be enough, because Irie kept yelling at her, kept berating her, even though he saw her face, saw hurt and anger and sadness written all over it.

He says he loves me, she thinks, and yet he says all these terrible things to me. A real man wouldn't do that, Keita's voice says, in her head, and the memory scares her. She thinks Irie would be watching even the insides of her head, deep in her thoughts, analyzing the memories Kotoko is reliving.

For some reason, the thought of Irie is comforting. Irie knowing her so well, makes her happy. Thoughts of Irie have no middle ground, no. Either he makes her the happiest person to have ever been, or he makes her incomprehensibly distraught.

Kotoko wonders if that is what love is. Impossible highs, impossibly low lows.

This is when Kotoko realizes she is stupid. Why try to make sense of emotions? Why try to make sense of Irie? Why can't she just accept that he will never change?

She takes it a step further. Why go back to the man who hurts you, time and time again? Why go back to the man who bottles up his every feeling, and then explodes it all out at you? Why? Why did she stay with the man who didn't want her? Why didn't she fall out of love with Irie? Why is she like this?

The thoughts blur in her head. Irie-kun saving her. His kisses. Him at their wedding. Him saying he'd never felt a thing towards her. Irie with Matsumoto. Irie waiting for her after her internship. Irie asking her to stay with him. Irie embracing her, chastely, like a gentlemen. Her and Irie studying. Irie's smile, reserved only for her.

Even now, Kotoko knows she will not leave him. Even now, Kotoko loves him. She feels a little bit smarter when nobody is around. She feels that way because if anyone knew that she still loved Irie, even after everything, they would consider her a waste of space. They would use her love for Irie as a way to confirm her stupidity.

She ignores the way that Keita was the only exception, the only one who saw more, the only one who saw beyond.

Kotoko feels resigned to her future. She feels like she has accepted the inevitable. Irie-kun is a monster, she thinks, a monster that only I get to experience.

This time, the thought of Irie is not so comforting. Perhaps she was wrong for falling in love with him. Still. Thinking of Irie-kun makes her cry. He has caused her a great deal of pain, but she knows he has caused her much more happiness.

She hopes to never see his face again. She hopes he stays holed up in his room, crouched over his books, and she hopes that he forgets about her, entirely. She doesn't have to hope, because that will happen. He will move on. Irie will move on, and she will be left, chasing after an ideal man that never was.

But Kotoko loved Irie even after finding out his insufferable demeanor. She fell for him, and for him only. For him to question her loyalty is insulting. For him to try to scare her, to try to woo her with promises that he knows he won't be committing to is unacceptable. For God's sake, she's his wife.

She can feel Keita standing behind her, she can feel his phantom presence. You're right, he would say. This isn't how a husband treats his wife. Kotoko, he would say, his dark eyes gleaming at her, you deserve a better man. Let me make you happy.

And all is well and all is good, because she is not so stupid as to not know her own worth (then again, she is with Irie) and she knows Keita is right, she does deserve better! Staring up at the night sky, Kotoko wonders why Irie can't be like Keita. Keita's behavior in the man she loves…

But it's not too much to ask for, right? Irie looks at her like she's stupid whenever she asks for better treatment. But he treats me well, she thinks, and now Kotoko is confused. Irie, when he is good, is the best man in the world. He treats her with more kindness, more care, more concern than anyone ever has. He is all she has. So why then, why does he behave so irrationally at times? And why does it bother her for so long, afterwards?

She sits at bench, sitting in the middle, so if Keita and Irie-kun came, they could sit on either side of her. Kotoko knows already, that she loves Irie, she has known that, so why is she having these doubts?

Her mind spins, even though she's centered. She thinks back to in that dim room, with Irie, his anger enveloping her, eating her whole, reducing her to nothing but stereotypes and scraps. She thinks of his mindset, and she wonders if it has changed. Has he learnt to love her? Or has he always? Or has he never? Each is a painful thought.

She wonders what Irie thinks of her. He is quite honest with his thoughts, a little too blunt, a little too forward, and the thoughts, the memories make her smile, sadly. She smiles, but her tearful eyes betray her, because she just wishes she never made Irie-kun mad, but then again, as her story goes, it seems everything makes him angry. He is either 100% angry with her, or 10% angry.

He's never 100% pleased with her.

Kotoko knows its because she's…not the smartest, but that can be overlooked, right? And just because she can't comprehend mathematics, and just because she forgets things a lot and just because she's clumsy, doesn't mean she can't feel things. Being perceived as stupid, doesn't mean she's unaware of social cues. Being thought of as just another ditzy girl doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt.

Is he more cautious around smarter people? Is that why Irie holds his tongue around those types of people? Or is it because he is formal, polite, kind to strangers. But, Kotoko thinks, frantically, he even insulted me, back in high school, when he didn't even know me! Something is terribly wrong, Kotoko realizes. She thinks, about all the times she wished she didn't love Irie, all the times she'd felt a hurt that only increased as her age did.

She thinks he doesn't know how much his words hurt, or perhaps he teases her because she is special to him. Maybe that's why, Kotoko thinks, because he just loves me a little differently!

Somehow, even though he's not even there with her, Kotoko knows that Keita would be shaking his head at her, frowning.

She comes back to the house at around 2 am. She'd thought about crashing at Satomi's but the fear of imposing, the fear of being a burden was just too overwhelming.

Mama is tired; she has been up as well, waiting for Kotoko's return. She doesn't say anything, just holds Kotoko close and strokes her hair. She smells like laundry detergent, and Kotoko feels bad for her freshly washed clothes; there's snot and tears all over them now.

She walks back to their shared room — her and Irie's — and lays on the bed, not bothering to take off her clothes, not bothering to brush her hair, or her teeth. Irie is asleep. He sleeps soundly, and she is still awake when he wakes up early, heading off.

He doesn't speak to her, doesn't look at her, even though she has been awake for a full day, even though he's the one who has wronged her. She suspects this is how things will be for a long time. Being around Irie has done nothing but cause her depression.

She waits for him to talk to her, waits for him to acknowledge her, in the house, in the hospital, at the cafeteria, even when they're alone in their room. He acts like her absence never bothered him, like she's not here, at all. Irie's indifference extends to great lengths, she finds out, as she sobs in her pillow at night, and he blinks awake. When he stirs, facing her, she cries harder, thinking she will finally receive an apology, but he only leaves the room, taking his pillow with him.

The next day, she hugs Mama for a second too long, lingers in the kitchen, and sadly smiles at Yuuki. Then, as she climbs down the stairs, as she makes her way to the hospital, she calls Keita, asking to bunk.

The guilt that gnaws at her as she waits for Keita to pick up scares her. She lets him chatter for a little bit, envying his good mood, before she asks to stay at his place, for a while.

"It's just too…awkward asking you around everyone else," she explains, referring to the rest of their friends at the hospital. "Sorry, I'm just not doing so well right now," Kotoko admits, teary-eyed.

Keita consoles her, over the phone, and he's just…so good at it, that she tells him everything, and it all sort of comes out, in a rush, and he is quiet the whole time. He doesn't say a word, even when they've been on the phone for an hour, and then another hour.

"Leave him," is the first thing he says, his voice heavy. "Leave him, Kotoko," Keita repeats, and Kokoto thinks of Irie, thinks of Irie, she thinks of Irie and she feels her heart break away in two.

"Keita," she cries, "Keita-kun, what will I do? What will I do?" She repeats the question so much that he hangs up, rushes to her aid and finds her alone, in a storage room, still at the hospital, after their hours.

"I'm here for you, Kotoko," Keita says, pulling her up by the hand. "I'll always be here for you," he says, patting her back when she cries on his chest. He kisses the top of her hair, strokes her hair while she cries.

When they pull back from their embrace, walk away from the hospital and out its doors, a tall, thin man approaches the two of them, looking suspiciously at the two of them.

But it is late, late enough that evening is about to blur into night, and Kotoko's eyes are too dry, too puffy, and her vision is too bleary, and frankly, she's too tired to care. Keita will take care of it, she thinks, he will take care of me.

"Uh," Keita says, in reply to a question Kotoko didn't catch. She's pulled forward as Keita suddenly wraps his arm around her shoulder. "No, she's not hurt, she's fine," he tells the strange man in white. For a second, a small, traitorous part of Kotoko comes to life. She thinks the man is Irie, and she blinks up at the man, staring at his long white doctor's coat for a second too long.

"Really," The man says, bending down to Kotoko's level for a second. His thin, wispy black hair falls over his glasses, and he squints at her before straightening. "You look familiar, somehow," he says, to no one in particular.

Keita sighs, visibly deflating. "I work here," he offers, and the man laughs out loud.

"Not you, geez!" He takes off his glasses, swipes them twice on his coat. "No, I'm not talking about you, I'm talking about this cutie," he says, pointing his glasses at Kotoko.

"I — I don't think I know you," Kotoko confesses, voice still raw. She feels Keita's grip on her tighten, just the slightest bit.

"You sick or somethin'?" The man's staring down at her, one eyebrow raised.

Keita sighs. "She's fine," he says, turning them both away. "Thanks though," Keita says as they walk away, waving the man off, who still gives them wary looks.

After they've walked a distance, Kotoko looks up at Keita, who's still holding onto her, tightly. "Do you know that guy?"

"Yeah," Keita replies, staring straight ahead. "But I don't know him too well," Keita trails off, looking down at Kotoko. Their walking pace has slowed. "Why? What's up with him?"

Kotoko thinks. He's just another student, what's the problem. Why does she feel so uneasy?

"Nothing," she says, still not looking up from the ground. Keita frowns, stops walking.

"…Hey," he says, hesitantly letting go of Kotoko's shoulder. "Are you alright?" His hesitation bleeds into concern and Kotoko's apprehension bleeds into recognition.

"He's…he's Irie-kun's…he works with," Kotoko sputters, feeling the ground underneath her give out entirely. She thinks of her father, trapped underneath the rubble.

"Kotoko!" Keita's arms around her. He's holding her close. "Are you alright?"

"Irie-kun," she whispers, "Irie-kun will — "

"Forget about him!" Keita says, loudly, a little too loudly. He watches Kotoko's face closely before he continues. "Listen, Kotoko," he starts, and then he closes his mouth. His face is slightly red. Kotoko wonders what Irie is doing now, now that Funatsu has seen them both.

"Kotoko," Keita repeats, setting her gently back on the ground. Kotoko wonders how long he has been holding her, holding her like she's nothing in his arms, holding her the same way Irie carried her, bridal-style. "I'm serious about you," he says, peering down at her. "Your…husband, is a joke."

She feels him lean down, bend down until they're both face to face, alone, in the empty parking lot of the hospital. "You're too good for him," Keita says, and it takes her a moment to understand what he's saying, because, because they've never said that, no one has, no, it's only been, he's too good for her, she doesn't deserve him, why would he marry someone like her?

Kotoko doesn't even realize that she's crying until Keita swipes a hand across her face, wiping her tears. "Don't cry over a guy like him," he says, looking at her softly. "Come be with me, Kotoko. Come be happy, with me."

He holds his hand out in front of her, and she stares at it, for a moment, and then back into his sparkling eyes, his small, gentle smile.

She takes his hand, letting Keita pull her close.