Hitoshi was scratching his head, fingers threading through his hair.
This action he was doing was starting to become a habit over the past few days.
Why?
It was because of none other than his girlfriend, Shinju. Lately, she had been acting strangely and it all started on the train when she fainted.
Strange how?
Well, usually it would be Shinju who would initiate physical contact between them. She was the one who leaned her body against his as he read his books. She would purposely "trip" and bump shoulders. Without even realising it, her fingers would be laced with his.
Now, it was he who had to reach out first.
He was the one who had to initiate these physical contacts and although she didn't push him away, her reaction was rather lackluster.
Sometimes, when they were in the middle of a conversation, studying side by side, or just hanging out together during lunchtime and whatnot, her mind would drift elsewhere.
Her eyes would gaze at a random spot, his pupils unfocused.
No matter how many times he called her name or waved a hand in front of her face, she couldn't be brought back to Earth unless he went and physically shook her.
When she did come back, she always immediately smiled and apologized, but would never explain why she was zoning out.
And yesterday — yesterday was the worst.
The two of them were walking to the subway train station after a quick stop to get food when he kissed her in front of a cargo train that was passing by.
Instead of the usual fireworks that shot up into the air whenever their lips connected, Shinju stiffened up. A second later, she pulled away, her breath hitched. Turning aside, one hand flew to her mouth as she looked like she was about to vomit.
The image of her being repulsed by the kiss had stayed with him ever since, looping in his mind over and over, causing him to get in trouble a few times during his classes.
* * *
Shinju barely noticed that she hadn't been as good a girlfriend as before.
It wasn't that she didn't notice, but rather her mind was so preoccupied with other things that she didn't have time to notice.
Her thoughts were constantly elsewhere, tangled and heavy. It dragged her attention away, no matter how hard she was trying to stay present in the moment with Hitoshi or her friends.
Where were her thoughts?
Well, it was obviously on that day in her apartment.
The day that she had given away everything to Yasuo, thinking that it was for the greater good of her boyfriend's safety and future. Only to find out that she had done it for nothing.
Ever since that video had been consumed by her, once, twice, three times, ten times, etc. — that day, which was already a stain she was prepared to have on her life, had grown into something rotten, spreading quietly through every thought she tried to have.
Physical touch that came naturally to her felt nearly impossible.
She didn't deserve to lean on him while he read.
She didn't deserve to play around and act like she tripped just so that their shoulders could collide.
She didn't deserve to reach out for his hand and lock fingers.
She didn't deserve to do any of those things. However, if Hitoshi initiated it, she just bit the bullet and endured, although she felt nauseous about it.
Hitoshi tried to ask her a few times what was wrong but she quickly shut it down, lying that she was fine.
She could never tell him the truth. It wasn't even for her sake at this point. It was for him — that's what she told herself.
It hurt her so much just to even look at Hitoshi, as the truth would sit on her chest like a weight, pressing down harder and harder as he was in her view.
It was only when she would look elsewhere that she could try to steady that guilt that ate at her.
Shinju looked at the broken bathroom mirror in front of her; she had punched it a few seconds ago and blood was dripping from her knuckles.
A moment ago, she had been walking toward the subway station after grabbing food.
She was discussing the upcoming test with Hitoshi when the air suddenly filled with noise as a cargo train thundered past.
Unable to hear each other, the two of them stopped talking.
That was when Hitoshi leaned down to kiss her. Unlike before, when the world would light up as it used to, this time, her body reacted before her mind could stop it.
She stiffened as their lips touched. The same lips she had been using to suck Yasuo's penis were now touching his lips. His lips that had never felt any softness other than her lips.
Panic flooded her body.
The kiss felt wrong — wrong in so many ways that it made her stomach twist violently and almost immediately, she pulled away, her breath hitched as nausea surged up her throat.
Fighting the urge to throw up, she turned aside and covered her mouth.
All she could think about was how his lips were now stained by hers. Her lips had totally and utterly ruined by Yasuo. These lips had tasted another man's cock. These lips had moaned like a whore. These lips had said things that Hitoshi had never even heard before. These lips — these lips were absolute trash.
Trash that Hitoshi didn't deserve to have staining him.
The guilt was overwhelming. Crushing.
Not only had she betrayed Hitoshi for no reason ultimately, but she had ruined something that used to be pure. She had thought it was a sacrifice that she would be able to get over, but no.
The kiss felt like someone just whispered into her ears that she couldn't escape for the rest of her life.
"You're garbage, Shinju," she whispered as she looked at her reflection, which was cracked like the mirror. "Hitoshi didn't deserve that. You don't deserve him."
Even if the original purpose had been to help him—
"Otsuka was right. You're nothing but a whore. And you can't even be Hitoshi's whore. He doesn't deserve a whore for a girlfriend. He deserves someone who doesn't cheat on him, as I did. I'm… I'm not that. It's too late. I'm just a whore."
That didn't mean she wanted to break up with Hitoshi. No. She loved him too much.
She would rather die than break up with him.
It was selfish of her, but he was the reason why she discovered what love was.
"I need time," she cried as she fell to her knees.
Not time to heal and forgive herself. She could never do that.
She needed time to let him go. To let Hitoshi go. It was the right thing to do.
This could take years. Decades.
Then, as she was thinking this, Yasuo's face popped up in her mind. It often did lately. It was one handsome face. And this face was the one that had been with her that day. The day she went from being Hitoshi's love of his life to nothing more than a dirty little whore.
Shinju felt this throb between her legs, and before she knew it, she was on her mattress with her hands inside her panties.