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Her eyes locked with Oguri’s. The train door would close with her still on the platform, and Oguri on the other side. They had moments left before it would take off down the track, carrying her roommate and best friend back home. Was it the panic rising into her chest? The ache of missing her before she’d even left? The words had already come out before she could think to stop them.
“I love you!”
It’s a short trip; Tamamo knows this, but when she lets herself into their shared dorm room and sees Oguri’s bed all neatly made? There’s only one toothbrush in the bathroom. She didn’t take everything obviously, but all the mundane fingerprints that proved it was their room got swept away in the tide. It leaves this lump in her throat that won’t go away.
Then the weight of her own words washes over her, and she flops onto her own bed and buries her face in the pillow, crumpling herself into a ball. Why the hell did she do that? Guilt and shame crush something inside her like a tin can, and her face burns. Her eyes, too; tears prickle the edges. It all hurts too much for no good reason, so she squeezes them shut and lets the tears blot her pillowcase.
In the hallway outside, girls walk by in chatty groups headed toward the cafeteria. But Tamamo isn’t hungry, and doubts she could keep it down even if she tried. Her own weakness infuriates her.
“What the hell am I doing?” It’s a question to no one and swallowed up into the fabric of her pillow, but the silence is doing things to her. The last person she wants to be alone with right now is herself. “If I’m lucky, she won’t get it. She’ll think it’s ‘cause we’re such good friends, or…” There’s that ache again. “…I’m so fucking stupid.”
Tamamo doesn’t want to think about the alternative. That if Oguri did know exactly what she meant, it would be the end. She’d never look at her the same way again. They certainly couldn’t stay roommates; how could they? She’s revealed her true colors as disgusting and wanting something she shouldn’t.
Even though those seeds got planted the very first time she saw Oguri run. Curiosity sparked into interest, and then into this instinctual rush that consumed her when they at last raced on the same turf. Off the track, they were fast friends, and fell into this rhythm she’d never known was possible. It scared her at times, because Oguri is so much more perceptive than she looks. But then when Tamamo would open up just a little, those walls she’d built with iron will — her own blood, sweat, and tears — would melt in Oguri’s genuine kindness. For the first time she could just be, and maybe that was a bad thing after all.
By the time her tears dried on her cheeks, she’d drifted off into a light, unsatisfying sleep.
It took her a moment to realize her phone was ringing. Napping left her drowsy and slow, and sticky with sweat. The day had long since sunk fully into night. Eyes barely open, she gropes around her pillowside for her phone, but meets only blankets and air. So she pulls herself up and sits there cross-legged, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. When the ringing stops, she finally sees it laid on her nightstand. The screen glows: “Missed Call: Oguri Cap”.
It hits like a punch to the gut. Should she call her back? Hell, maybe she should be afraid. On the other end waits the possibility of rejection she’ll never be ready to hear, and pointless as that might be, it’s a convincing reason to run away. But Tamamo doesn’t need her anxiety getting even worse, which it’s guaranteed to if she avoids it. It’s bad enough she had to skip dinner.
It rings again, and this time she takes her phone in her (shaking) hand and answers it. The call connects, and Oguri’s voice reaches her ears like relief she didn’t know how badly she needed. “Tama! I’m so glad you picked up.”
“You called twice. It'd be weirder if I didn’t,” she mumbles, aware her voice lacks its usual bite.
“Yeah, I really wanted to talk to you! I would’ve called sooner, but I couldn't on the train, and then I had dinner with my mom after I arrived. This was my first chance,” she says. It feels so funny and backward how calling Tamamo was apparently that high priority even though she’s back in her hometown, but Oguri’s voice is eager and honest as always.
She already knows, but Tamamo still asks, “What’s up?”
Oguri’s voice falls in volume, turning a little bashful. “I wanted to talk about… earlier, and all.” Tamamo thinks she might be sick, but only hums and lets Oguri keep talking. This doesn’t seem to bother her. “We should plan for you to come with me next time.”
“…Huh?” What? Why?
“I mean,” she mumbles, “my mom wants to meet you. If we’ll be dating anyway—…” Her heart nearly stops.
“Wait wait wait, who’s dating?! Slow down a sec!” She nearly shouts it, volume control now well out the window. Her heartbeat pounds in her throat.
“You said,” Oguri starts to say, and then lowers her voice again, “you… loved me, so…” It actually pisses her off how adorable it sounds.
“That takes two people, dumbass! You can’t just decide it on your own.” Her face is much warmer than she wants it to be.
“But if you love me back, then there’s no problem. Right?” she says, with an incredible confidence.
Wait. “What do you mean back?!”
“I already told you,” she says, as if Tamamo is the clueless one here. “Lots of times, actually. I love you.”
Yeah, her face is roasting. She could crawl into a hole right about now. “That… Wasn’t that as friends?” is all she manages to say.
“It’s you as a person. All of you. I tried to make that clear, but I guess I didn’t use the right words.”
“Oh…”
“Everybody here really wants to meet you! I’d told them all about you already.” Oh my god. “When I get back we can talk more about it.”
"O…Okay. Sure, yeah.”
Oguri giggles softly. It throws her further off kilter, and Tamamo wonders dumbly if this is a dream, or if maybe she died in her sleep. “I’m so happy. I hope I can sleep tonight. It’s getting late, so you should get some rest too.”
“Yeah.” She doesn’t know how to say anything else. Her brain is broken.
“Goodnight, Tama. I love you.”
She’s never felt vaguely nauseous from happiness before, but there’s a first for everything. After the call ends, she stares at her phone and tries to process whatever the hell just happened.
She did not, in fact, get any rest that night.