Don't Call Me By My Username! - Chapter 23

With my hand on the wall, I twisted the faucet of the shower. The cold water pouring from above my head quickly turned into warm water.

After that meeting, I was brought to Akira’s house, which he said was nearby. It was a small, old two-story apartment for one person. It was located in between my house and Yuki’s house.

I was surprised at how close it was and how old the exterior was, but what surprised me even more was the run-down state of his room. Firstly, from the moment he opened the front door I could smell the odor of cigarettes.

The air in the room was somewhat stale, as if it wasn’t ventilated. It was a south-facing corner room on the second floor with two windows including a veranda, so it was probably bright during the day.

Perhaps because the walls were thin, I could hear the sound of TV leaking out from next door. I couldn’t help but think there must be better places out there even for a studio room.

I could say that finding out he had a proper toilet, sink, and bathtub was like happiness in the middle of this misfortune. I couldn’t hide my surprise that apartments in such poor conditions still existed in this day and age.

As I froze from all the shock, I was urged to take a shower. I was given a change of clothes, jacket, and untouched underwear, then he pushed me into the bathroom. Taking shower for the second time today made me feel a sense of déjà vu, and I started to cry again as I recalled what had happened at Yuki’s house.

I knew in my head that there was no point in crying any longer. But the tears just kept falling from my eyes.

Too many things had happened today. Akira, and also Yuki—

There was so much going on that I couldn’t keep up with processing my emotions.

Especially Yuki . . . Why would Yuki do those things to me?

Thinking back, Yuki turned on Akira quite often. At first, I thought he disliked Akira because he was incompatible with that type of personality by nature. But maybe he had always suspected a relationship between me and Akira from the beginning.

On top of that, I made a statement that seemed to defend Akira on the recent incident, so Yuki must have been angry with me.

That said, what he did was still unforgivable.

I wonder if things with Yuki could never go back to how they were before . . . I didn’t want that. But I couldn’t pretend that nothing happened.

And then, about Akira. If Yuki’s assumption was correct, was the reason he was being so kind to me like this, because he thought of me as a substitute for his late fiancée? If that was the case, I didn’t think I could deal with it in my current state of mind.

If possible, I wished they were actually different people—

However, it never rained but poured. When I got out of the bath and changed into the clothes lent to me, Akira was nowhere to be found.

In the dimly lit room, the only sound was TV from next door and the sound of a washing machine. The room felt strangely quiet and somewhat lonely now that the owner was gone.

Once again, I looked around inside the room. Frankly speaking, it was dirty.

Akira kept himself so neat and tidy, so I had assumed his room would be the same way, but the messiness was a complete betrayal of my expectations.

Empty bottles of beer, lunch boxes, and ramen noodles were scattered all over the place. There were several garbage bags in the kitchen left inside larger bags. Perhaps he forgot to throw them out. Next to the bed were textbooks and magazines piled up together. They looked as if they were about to collapse any second.

I was also a pretty messy person and I was no good at cleaning my room, but not to this point.

I guess he didn’t have a girlfriend or the like to clean up the mess. It was so terrible that I could easily tell just by looking. I was so surprised that it stopped my tears.

As I thought, Yuki’s assumption was wrong. I told myself that, but I could only feel relieved for a short while.  Suddenly, I noticed a picture frame on display next to the TV.

Familiar snowy mountains and skiwear. In the picture were Akira and . . . me crossdressed?

When I saw the picture, I felt my blood drain at once. It was the same photo that I had been shown earlier at Yuki’s house—

“Don’t touch that photo!”

“Uwa?!”

Suddenly a hand reached out from behind me and the picture frame disappeared from my vision.

When I turned around, I saw Akira standing there with a convenience store bag hanging in his hand, clutching the photo frame as if it was very important to him.

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