Chapter 24: Chapter 24 : Peaceful Night
The bath ended in quiet sighs and tender touches, but the silence afterward was heavier than the steam. None of us spoke much as the senpais dried us off, their hands still shameless as they rubbed towels across our wet skin. But eventually, the playfulness faded. Clothes were never put back on—the senpais simply threw on coats loosely over their bare bodies, laughing lightly, while Ayaka and I felt hollow, our minds drowning in the things we’d just done.
When the four of us finally stepped out of the love hotel, the night had already deepened. The neon signs reflected against the wet pavement, the quiet drizzle of rain painting the world in silver streaks. The air outside was colder than I expected, biting against my flushed cheeks, reminding me how far removed this was from the warmth inside.
Ayaka and I walked together, but it didn’t feel like together. She held her umbrella over her head, her face completely hidden by the shadows and the misty curtain of rain. I had my own umbrella, the space between us wide, yet painfully heavy. I tried to glance at her once, but she didn’t look back—her head was lowered, her bangs sticking slightly to her damp skin, droplets sliding down her umbrella like tiny glass beads.
I realized, in that silence, that we couldn’t even look at each other. Not after what they made us do. Not after I had felt her tongue on my pussy, my lips forced against hers, our bodies trembling together under senpai’s hands. My chest tightened just remembering it, my face burning with a mix of humiliation and... something else I couldn’t name.
Our footsteps echoed faintly against the wet road. Every sound seemed louder in that silence—the rain dripping, the cars rushing in the distance, the creak of our umbrellas shifting with the wind. Neither of us spoke. Neither of us could.
By the time we reached the point where our paths split, Ayaka still hadn’t lifted her face. She gave the faintest nod, not even words, and walked away down the other road. I stood there for a while, my umbrella tilted, watching her disappear into the haze of rain. My throat ached like I wanted to call out to her, but the words wouldn’t form.
The next day, I searched for her at school. But her desk was empty.
By the third day, her absence pressed harder on my chest. Whispered rumors floated around the classroom, but no one seemed to know exactly why she hadn’t come back. Finally, one of our classmates muttered that Ayaka had left to stay at her grandfather’s place in the countryside.
I felt a sharp ache twist inside me. It was as if the distance between us, already unbearable after that night, had stretched even further—into something impossible to close. Her absence left me hollow, my hand still sometimes trembling when I remembered the last time we touched.
And the worst part? The image of her face—so close, wet with both rain and tears, hidden under the umbrella—refused to leave me.
After that rainy night, our lives changed in ways I couldn’t explain. Ayaka and I never spoke face to face about what happened in that hotel. We couldn’t. Every time I thought of her, my chest tightened, flashes of her lips, her touch, and that awful moaning of the senpai echoing in my head.
The silence between us grew like a wall. The next time I saw her wasn’t until much later, after I came here. When my eyes finally fell on her again, seeing Ayaka healthy, laughing, and carrying herself like she’d managed to move forward—I felt my lungs loosen, as if I’d been holding my breath all this time. Relief spread through me, though the memories of that night still clung to the corners of my mind like shadows that refused to fade.
But even as we avoided talking about it, the word—sex—had already carved itself into our hearts. Once the door was opened, we couldn’t close it. That night showed us things we weren’t ready to see, and yet... it planted a strange, shameful curiosity inside us.
When I was alone in my room, I found myself searching for that feeling again. At first, it was accidental—my fingers brushing between my legs when I couldn’t sleep, recalling the heat of senpai’s hands forcing my body open. But soon, I started doing it on purpose. Slipping my hands into the warmth of my pussy, remembering the noises from that video, the wet sounds of sex. The shame burned me, but the pleasure always came, making my body shiver until I finally came undone.
Ayaka confessed, through one of her letters, that she felt the same. She admitted she had started watching porn secretly after moving to her grandfather’s place. She would sit in her room late at night, headphones in, the glow of her laptop screen showing her men and women fucking in ways she couldn’t look away from. And when the videos made her body ache, she used her fingers too.
Our letters became a secret tether between us. We didn’t write often, but when we did, sometimes the words carried weight we couldn’t say aloud. She once wrote, "I thought of that night again. I tried not to, but it came back while I was touching myself." My hands trembled as I read it, because I knew—I was the same.
But even so, even with these hidden confessions, we both clung to one truth: we weren’t lesbians. We didn’t fall in love with women, we didn’t long for each other that way. The things we did, the things we were forced to do—it didn’t make us gay. It only left scars and curiosities, memories we couldn’t erase no matter how much we told ourselves we were normal.
I think that’s why we held onto each other through letters. Because only we knew. Only we understood.
Kana’s fingers tightened softly around Haruto’s hand as she lay against his chest, her voice trembling but steady enough to carry the truth.
"When I saw you with Ayaka, Haruto..." she whispered, her eyes glistening in the pale moonlight that slipped through the window. "I felt... relief. A deep kind of relief I didn’t even know I was waiting for."
Haruto tilted his head, brushing her hair gently, listening without a word.
Kana continued, her tone soft but laced with the weight of years. "Because it meant Ayaka could finally move forward—just like me. That night two years ago left us broken, Haruto. We were used. Our bodies were taken advantage of. We were forced into things that scarred us. But when she gave herself to you... it wasn’t forced. It wasn’t shameful. It was... her choice."
Her voice cracked slightly, and she pressed her forehead to his chest, breathing in his warmth.
"Ayaka and I..." she said, almost in disbelief at her own words, "we both gave our first time to the same boy. To you, Haruto. The same person. Do you know how strange that is? How impossible it feels? And yet... it’s the only thing that makes sense. Because you weren’t just anyone. You didn’t take our bodies—we gave them. We wanted it. And that’s why..."
She lifted her head, her eyes locked onto his, shimmering with tears but steady with conviction.
"That’s why we can move forward now. Neither of us gave our bodies for nothing. Neither of us gave them without reason. We both had our reasons—our scars, our pasts—and you became the answer to them. You became the reason, Haruto."
Her lips trembled into a faint, bittersweet smile.
"No one gives their body without reason. No one. Sometimes it’s love. Sometimes it’s pain. Sometimes it’s just to forget. For Ayaka and me... it was all of that tangled together. But you were the one who untangled it, Haruto. You turned it into something real. Something we could hold on to, instead of regret."
Kana leaned up then, pressing her lips softly to his, the kiss lingering with the weight of her confession. When she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, her breath shaky.
"You’re mine. I’m yours. And even if Ayaka shares a part of you too... it doesn’t hurt me anymore. Because now I know—both of us can finally walk forward. Together, in our own ways."
Haruto’s arms tightened gently around Kana, pulling her trembling body closer against his bare chest. He could feel her heartbeat—it was fast, uneven, almost as if her emotions were still spilling out with every beat. He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he stroked her hair slowly, letting his touch be the answer before his words came.
"Kana..." he whispered, his voice low, steady, carrying warmth, "you don’t have to carry it all anymore. Not alone. Not with regret. From now on... let me hold it with you. Your past, your pain, your everything."
Kana’s eyes, glossy from the tears she’d held back, met his. For a second she looked as though she might break again—but the softness in Haruto’s gaze stopped her. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against her forehead, lingering there, letting her feel the security in his touch.
"You’re not just a body to me," he continued, his hand sliding down her back in gentle circles. "You’re Kana. The Kana who laughs, who teases, who’s strong even when she’s hurting inside. You and Ayaka... you both mean more to me than I can even put into words. So don’t ever think what you gave me was shameful. It’s precious. To me... it’s everything."
Her lips curved into the faintest smile, the kind of smile born not from joy, but from being understood. She nestled her face into his chest, inhaling his warmth, his scent, the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
"I... I feel safe," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as if confessing to herself more than to him. "For the first time in years, Haruto... I feel safe."
Her body relaxed fully, the tension draining from her shoulders, and she closed her eyes. Haruto continued stroking her hair, kissing the crown of her head softly. He adjusted himself so she lay more comfortably atop him, his chest rising and falling with calm, steady breaths—an anchor for her storm.
Within moments, Kana’s breaths deepened, her body heavy with sleep. She had fallen asleep against him, her cheek pressed to his chest, her hand lightly gripping his side as if afraid to let go even in dreams.
Haruto looked down at her sleeping face—the vulnerability, the exhaustion, the faint traces of tears—and a surge of tenderness washed over him. He wrapped his arms around her even tighter, shielding her as though the world outside could no longer touch her.
"Sleep well, Kana," he whispered, his lips brushing her hair. "I’ll be right here when you wake up. Always."
And so, under the silver glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, Haruto lay awake, holding her close. For the first time, their nakedness wasn’t just about lust—it was about trust. About healing.