Aoyama suddenly jolted awake, immediately noticing the morning sunlight gently kiss her cheeks through the curtains. She went to go check her phone for the time and-
"...*snoore*..."
-heard a very soft and gentle snore coming from her left. She slowly turned her head and saw someone with brown hair, sleeping on his side next to her.
"...Kanda...kun...," she muttered. "Oookkk...this is weird..."
She placed her feet on the carpet and noticed that this was not her room. This didn't even seem like a room in Sakurasou. The walls were modern white, compared to all the rooms in Sakurasou which were old wooden boards. She felt the silky smooth carpet tickle her feet as she walked across the spacious room, looking at the awards lined neatly across the shelf. Well, shelves. Yes, there was that many.
"Best game designer...best game designer...contemporary innovator...best lead voice actor?," she murmured, freezing at the last award. She picked it up and sure enough, as she suspected, there was her name: 'NANAMI AOYAMA', etched in a gold plate on the bottom of a large, shining, glass award.
"Impressed by your own award?," she heard behind her.
She didn't turn around. She was simply frozen, looking down at the award in her hands.
"Kanda-kun...," she said flatly. "This is a dream...right?"
"Yup," he responded lazily. "Everything you've ever wanted. Too bad you'll be awake in about ten minutes or so. Waking up with a hangover."
Aoyama looked over her shoulder and scanned the man laying in the luxurious king-sized bed. He looked very much like her love interest, except with messier hair, (well, it was morning.) a little stubble and a more muscular build. She suspected he was also taller, as his arms were slightly longer.
She looked down at herself, not even realizing that she was naked. She felt around the back of her head, and yup. She still had her signature ponytail. (Although she ignored why she would sleep with a ponytail, she never does that.) Same everything really, except she felt a bit taller and slower. Some of her joints ached when she walked the wrong way.
"Have a look around dear. I'll get started on breakfast," Sorata said nonchalantly, a small, genuine smile appearing on his face after he looked at Aoyama.
"K-Kanda-kun...?," she whimpered on the verge of tears. "A-A-Am I...Am I your...wife...?"
Sorata looked at her confused. "It's...what you've always wanted...right?"
Aoyama placed a hand over her mouth and let her tears fall freely.
"No...no...no...w-why...why'd you be so cruel as to show me this?!," she screamed. "What I could never have?!"
Sorata looked at her with an understanding frown, and slowly walked out of the room, while Aoyama curled up into a ball, rocking back and forth.
"...I don't wanna leave...I don't wanna leave...," she repeated with anguish. "Dear...dear...I want to be his dear forever..."
"Oi! Pancakes are ready!," she heard Sorata- her husband call out.
"C-Coming!," she weakly called out.
Aoyama was at least going to cherish the time she had as Sorata's wife, even if it was all fake. She was going to cherish the memories, the accomplishments, the things they've built together over the decades. Even...for a little while...while she could...
"Morning hon," Sorata greeted nonchalantly, as if they had done this a million times. "So, I talked to someone about something and he said that something, something, something..."
Aoyama heard his voice get slowly drowned out by the sizzling of the frying pan, and the ambient sounds of a television, presumably on the news channel. He was wearing a simple T-shirt and shorts, and had an apron on as well. Aoyama resisted the urge to break down into tears, and quietly sat on the stool next to the marble kitchen counter.
"Whaddya think?," Sorata asked as he placed two hot pancakes on Aoyama's plate.
"Well...I think that you should take the opportunity and go with someone-san because yada, yada..."
Aoyama allowed the bullshit to flow from her mouth as she scarfed down the delicious pancake with ease. It was soft and fluffy; not too buttery, but not too dry either. It was literally the best pancake she had ever tasted. Well, she had tasted this before, in a trip to Kyoto once. That must be where this dream had stolen the taste from.
"Hm..yeah...I guess you're right..," Sorata chuckled quietly to himself as he turned off the stove. His chuckle was very gravelly and tired, and sounded very much like her father when her mom would tell an old memory.
"Looks like we've been through some stuff, huh?," Aoyama thought to herself, with a sense of cheer.
" I know this might sound kinda sappy," Sorata said. "But I appreciate how you always speak your mind. You never say something you disagree with, and you're not afraid of a challenge. Heh...I guess that's why I enjoy being married to you, huh..."
Aoyama stared at her plate.
"Well...that...and because...for other reasons..."
She felt a firm hand slide under her panties, as she was receiving gentle love bites on the neck. She couldn't stop herself from moaning loudly, as if she had been waiting for this her entire life.
"D-Darling...," Aoyama moaned. "We...we have work soon..."
"Then I guess we better be quick then.~"
"Work? Right. Some stupid excuse to have unpredicted sex. You've always loved scenarios like that. You shallow teenage girl. Oh no, we can't have sex here!," Aoyama thought to herself. It was as if she was watching another version of herself, one unchained from the realities of life, living out all her fantasies. She didn't know what to say. It felt...
"...wrong...," she muttered.
"Hmm?"
"This is wrong!," Aoyama shouted. "Everything about this!"
"What do you mean? Isn't this everything you've ever wanted?," Sorata replied back confused, not showing even a hint of anger.
"Yes! Yes, it was everything I've ever wanted! But it wasn't everything you've ever wanted was it?! That's the whole point!"
Sorata tilted his head in confusion.
"I just...want you to be happy...and if that means being with Mashiro...then so be it. Who cares about what happens to me...," Aoyama confessed.
Sorata's concern slowly morphed into a smile. He looked at Aoyama with...love.
"You know...," he said with admiration. "Someone's gonna be really lucky they married you. Always thinking about others..."
Aoyama stepped forward and stared Sorata in the eyes confidently.
"Good luck, Aoyama," he said. "I hope you find what it is you're looking for."
With that, he waved her goodbye, and before her very eyes, began to age. She saw him slowly turn from thirty, to forty, to sixty, to eighty...
She saw his two daughters. His two, beautiful daughters. One with blonde hair and another with brown. They were sloppily playing with paint on a canvas. She saw them age. Pose for a family photo. Get into fights with their parents. Brag about who has more awards.
And she saw Mashiro. Her dear friend, Mashiro. But she had the back of her head turned to Aoyama, with her two daughters and loving husband talking to each other. She took a few steps forward to grab her arm, but she only missed: and began falling through the ground, where all the color slowly melted away like oil paint in water.
"GAH!," Aoyama shrieked, jolting up in bed.
"W-Wha-!"
Aoyama startled the now awake Sorata, who had passed out beside her bed this morning, wanting to check if she was alright. Aoyama immediately regretted doing that, clutching her head in agony, and feeling some excruciating pain on her left rib.
"ARRGGH...Ow ow ow...," she groaned tiredly as she held her torso. "...what...happened...oh dear God...my head..."
"You had a bit too much to drink yesterday," Sorata quipped as he gave her a glass of water and some headache medication. "Idiot."
"Save it, Kanda," she growled intimidatingly. "But...arghh..why do my ribs hurt so much...why does my scalp hurt so much...?"
"You really don't remember huh?," Sorata said, remembering the pseudo-confession he got out of her last night. "You got into a fist fight with Mashiro."
"..."
"Aoyama-"
"I WHAT?!," she yelled. "W-W-WHY'D I DO SUCH A THING..?!"
Sorata flashed back to Aoyama crawling on top of him, Mashiro's death glare and him yelling at the top of his lungs.
"U-Umm...never mind that for now," he deflected nervously. "She pulled out some of your hair, but I'm not so sure about your ribs. Maybe she kicked them?"
"Probably," she muttered. "Who knows what that girl can do."
"Rightttt. Well, when you feel like it, we'll take you to the hospital. Get you checked out."
"K-Kanda-kun! T-T-There's no need-"
"You. Are. Going. To. Go. Understand?"
"Y-Yes sir!," Aoyama stammered nervously. She had seen Sorata mad before, and did not wish to invoke his wrath. Especially when her head felt like it was attached to her neck with a piece of string. "Ow ow ow..."
Mashiro walked in Aoyama's room, with rustled hair and nothing on except Sorata's loose T-shirt. The hungover brunette slowly met her eyes, and began stammering.
"I-I-I...am so...," she babbled, immediately looking away from Mashiro. "I...don't know...why I did that.."
Sorata stood up and let Mashiro kneel down by the bedside to talk to her.
"Aoyama," she said while her friend was crying in her hands. "We got into a fight."
She hiccuped. "...yeah...I know..."
"You were jealous of me," Mashiro said, reaching to hold Aoyama's hands. She shamefully met Mashiro's red eyes.
"Yeah...well...who isn't," she pitifully chuckled. "I'm sorry."
Mashiro shook her head gently. "Don't be. I know what it feels like."
Aoyama looked at her with confusion, and Mashiro looked down.
"I was always jealous of you too, Aoyama," she said. "I was jealous of your friendships with everyone in Sakurasou. I was jealous of your looks. I was jealous of your determination. And I was jealous of your...I don't know...I mean..."
The two looked away.
"Whenever I work hard. No matter how many nights I stayed awake, working on a project. Everyone just looked at my work with envy. Like it was sheer luck. Like they could never make something like it...," Mashiro said. "Everything I did...was just...luck to them..."
Her posture crumbled even further, and she began letting tears fall down on Aoyama's bed. Sorata, as well as Misaki, Jin, Hase and Sensei who were watching or listening by the doorway, felt a tang of sympathy for the genius girl.
"...and...*sniff*...now...Sorata?...I-"
"You can have him," Aoyama mournfully said, looking up at the man standing at the end of her bed. "You...can...have him."
Everyone's eyes widened at her statement.
"Woah, woah!," Misaki interjected. "Why don't we let Junior decide who to love?"
"...that's not fair...," Sorata muttered, fists tensed by his side.
He looked down in pain.
"You...expect me to just...take that?," he muttered again, infuriated. "You expect me to just...forget about you and live with Mashiro, is that it?"
"N-No..! I just...want you to be happy! That's all!," she yelled, leaning forward despite the pain in her ribs. She suddenly remembered what she said in her dream. "And if that means being with Mashiro...then so be it. Who cares about what happens to me..."
"How the hell could I live like that?! When my best fucking friend doesn't think she never even had the chance! Am I supposed to just leave you like that?!"
Sorata's voice echoed throughout the room. There was a moment of tense silence, save for the occasional sniffle and hiccup by the sobbing Mashiro, who was holding on to Aoyama's hand for dear life.
"...so...what do we do then...?," Aoyama asked quietly.
"...I don't know...," Sorata replied.
Jin stepped forward from the doorway with his hands in his pockets, and a neutral expression.
"I say you give it time," he said. "Focus on other things. Maybe the future will call for actions proving who loves who."
The trio looked at each other, imagining what life might be like if no one dated in their group. Maybe he was right. Sorata would work on his game, Aoyama on her voice acting and Mashiro on her manga, and perhaps one day their paths might overlap.
"Jin!," Misaki exclaimed happily, wrapping him in a bear hug from behind. "That was soooooo cool!"
"Thank you honey," he replied.
"I'll be sure to reward you lots tonight..."
Jin felt his face blush, and the tense atmosphere in the room lightened. The aching pain in Aoyama's heart hadn't disappeared, but this was a small step in fixing it. She looked down and locked eyes with a smiling Mashiro. Looked like she had said what she wanted to, however they both understood one thing: who would get Sorata first?
"Oh. You are on, Mashiro."
"Do your best, Aoyama," their eyes spoke.
"I have a bad feeling about this...," Sorata thought as the two girls looked at him.
