メロウレイン / Futtara Doshaburi Mellow Rain
In the Night Sky After the Rain
Maybe happy time was ultimately a kind of debt, Hagiwara thought.
When it ended, you had to repay it with the pain of not wanting to leave.
The ice in Sei’s now-empty iced coffee shifted and collapsed with a clear little clink.
Hagiwara used the sound as his cue.
“Well… I should probably get going soon.”
You got rusty at anything you stopped doing.
Not just physically.
Hagiwara had lived with someone for quite a long time, so he had almost forgotten what it felt like to leave the home of someone you loved.
There was a rhythm to it—a timing.
For Hagiwara, the ideal was to avoid making it heavy.
Yeah, can’t be helped. See you again soon.
“Oh. Yeah, it’s getting late.”
Whether that was a difference between men and women or simply a difference in personality, Sei’s answer was remarkably casual.
Half of Hagiwara felt relieved.
The other half was disappointed precisely because Sei had been so casual.
There was hardly anything to gather.
Hagiwara stood and left the flat.
“I’ll walk you to the station,” Sei said, following him out.
Staying longer was not impossible.
Hagiwara could spend one more night here, get up early, go home to change and then head to work.
He was actually fighting quite hard against the desire to do exactly that.
Because if he let himself start, he had a feeling he would either gradually move into Sei’s place or drag Sei into his own.
Either way, he would sink too deep.
A half-cohabiting relationship felt like the absolute limit.
The very edge of what the two of them could safely manage right now.
Which meant Hagiwara needed to draw the line several steps before the actual edge.
Especially because there was no obvious destination called marriage waiting at the end.
He thought about things like this somewhere completely separate from the heat of being in love.
It was not that he had matured into someone capable of thinking sensibly.
Somewhere along the way, he had become someone who could not help thinking.
Whether that was good or bad, he had no idea.
“Thanks.”
Sei’s voice carried especially well at night.
Maybe it was only because the streets were quiet.
Or maybe Sei belonged more naturally to the moon and stars.
“For what?”
“My flat. You’ve done loads to it. It feels cleaner. More finished, I suppose.”
“Really? Maybe it had more character when I left everything alone.”
“If I leave it too long, Hiraiwa will probably yell at me.”
They passed an empty petrol station.
Their voices echoed more loudly in the open space.
Hagiwara looked at the lights glowing in the windows here and there and imagined people inside who did not have to leave and go back elsewhere.
He envied them.
At the station, Sei bought a platform ticket and came all the way to the train.
What if I lose my mind and drag him onto the carriage with me?
Hagiwara stared vaguely at the electronic departure board while entertaining the ridiculous fear.
Beside him, Sei gave a small laugh.
“Mm?”
“No… I just realised I’m desperately trying to think of something to say.”
“Yeah. Right before saying goodbye is like that.”
When you lived together, conversations could always be postponed.
Sometimes sharing silence itself felt luxurious.
But they were different now.
“It really feels like we’re dating.”
“What do you mean, now?”
“It just suddenly hit me.”
“Well, this sort of thing is only at the beginning.”
“Yeah. Eventually, Nakarai-san won’t even walk me to the door. You’ll go, ‘Leaving? Right, okay.’”
“And you’ll say, ‘There’s a football match I recorded, so I’m going home.’”
They laughed quietly together.
Maybe a day like that really would come.
And when it did, remembering tonight might feel painfully sweet, tightening around the chest.
Happy time was a debt.
But you could not live without meeting anyone simply because you did not want to borrow.
At least Hagiwara and Sei could not.
A train, wrapped in lights bright enough to punch a hole in the night, approached the platform.
As though narrowing his eyes against the brightness, Sei squeezed Hagiwara’s hand once, tightly.