Short Story | The Second Choice Always Comes Back to Me

　Suddenly, when I turned around, there stood a muscular guy with glasses—no, wait, my colleague and friend since our student days, |Koya Fujikura|, looking pale and unsteady.
　
　"Fujikura... you look like you're dying... are you alive?"
　
　When I called out to him, Fujikura stumbled and fell against me.
　Even though I tried to support him in a hurry, I felt like I was going to be crushed by his muscular, tall frame.

　I sat him down on the breakroom sofa to let him rest, and Fujikura let out a weak voice.

　"...My bad. I just got a little dizzy..."
　"Just sit there. I'll go get you a drink."

　(No, it's not just that you got dizzy. You definitely have the face of someone who had something happen...)
　I muttered to myself, bought a plastic bottle of sports drink from the vending machine, and handed it to him.
　
　Watching Fujikura gulp down the drink, I muttered quietly.
　
　"You look pale... why don't you go to the hospital?"

　He shook his head and lowered his voice.

　"...No, |Kiyose|, can I go to your place today?"
　"I won't ask what happened, but—sure."

　If he's feeling unwell, he should just go to the hospital.
　In times like these, Fujikura always comes to my room. We've known each other a long time. I can usually guess what happened.
　He is what you call a "second-choice guy." It's probably another heartbreak—I wish he would stop using me as a substitute, though.

　In my room, he always cracks open a canned chuhai, and I listen to his rambling as usual.
　Honestly, I wish he'd consider how I feel having to listen to this all the time.
　
　"—So, |Mahiro|, what do you think I should do?"
　
　Sighing, I muttered.
　
　"Then, why don't you choose me? —Koya"

　Fujikura—or rather, Koya—looked up with a startled expression.
　His eyes were wide, as if to say, "That's unexpected."

　"...If you chose me, I don't think you'd be stumbling around in shock, would you?"
　
　A heavy atmosphere enveloped the two of us. I said it. I thought to myself that if you look at it from another perspective, I'm a "second choice" too.
　I keep pining for a pitiful friend. Even though I had dared not to say "Why don't you choose me?" until now.

　At my sudden words, Koya lost his voice, his eyes darting around, looking for something to say—that kind of atmosphere.

　"I'll go make some coffee."

　As if to cover it up, I stood up from my seat, boiled water in the kitchen, and looked down while making the coffee.
　I didn't intend to tell him like this, as if I were taking advantage of someone's weakness. I just thought that if I didn't do this, Koya would never look at me.
　I think I'm being cowardly.

　I was muttering that in my heart.
　At that moment, something heavy suddenly leaned on me from behind.
　I was hugged tightly from behind by muscular arms, and a low voice fell upon me along with alcohol-laced breath.

　"—Then, Mahiro... be mine just like this."
　
　My heart skipped a beat at Koya's voice, slightly raspy from the alcohol.
　The raspy voice seeped slowly into the depths of my ears.
　My hand, holding the coffee, trembled and froze.

　"...Koya, you've had too much to drink. If this is your usual 'substitute'—"
　"It's not."
　"...Huh?"
　"If it's you, Mahiro, I won't be stumbling around in shock, right? So, be mine just like this?"

　—Is he drunk? Even so, Koya's eyes were capturing me seriously, piercing through me.
　I suppressed my trembling, but replied with a bold voice.

　"You're serious, right? If it's not a substitute—fine. Actually, I want you to do that."

　I used a cowardly tactic, but Koya turned toward me. That's enough.

"I never thought of it as a 'consolation prize,' you know?"

Hiroya drops his voice low. When I look back, my lips are—sealed by his kiss.
I can't... breathe. Or rather, I can't resist Hiroya's powerful embrace.

"Hah... then why... do you always come to me after getting dumped? You should just go to someone else, shouldn't you?"

At those words, Hiroya pierces me with an even lower, more penetrating voice.

"I thought Mahiro would never see me as anything more than a 'best friend,' but that's not the case, is it?"
"...That's rich coming from you. The guy who kept telling others to 'just settle for me.'"

"...Because I thought Mahiro wouldn't look my way. I thought if I said it, we wouldn't be able to stay best friends anymore."

—Suddenly, my heartbeat grows loud, and I instinctively look away.

"...I can't believe it. I was always serious about you, Hiroya."

I hang my head and mutter softly. Did he think I was okay with him coming to my place like a consolation prize after being dumped by someone else?
Suppressing the urge to say "If it were me," I had been watching Hiroya all this time.
I wouldn't have let him make such a pained face... I hid those feelings and went along with being his 'consolation prize'.

"Mahiro, I'm sorry... I was jealous. I didn't want anyone else to have you, that's why I acted like that."
"I think I was even more jealous than that. ...More than you realize, Hiroya."

Saying that, I gently touched Hiroya's face.

"...Why are you smiling so sadly, as if you've given up, Mahiro?"

Hiroya looks at me with a bewildered expression.

"Why, you ask... Hiroya, you don't understand how much I held back. Every time you fell for someone else... I would smile and listen to you talk about it. I was always frustrated."

Then, I stare into Hiroya's eyes as if piercing through him and continue.

"—The reason I never left was... because I knew you would always come back to me."

I raise the corners of my mouth slightly. —As if to provoke Hiroya.
Hiroya's face freezes, and his eyes waver. Seeing that expression, I feel a thrill rising within me.
I had been waiting for this to happen, somewhere deep down. No matter how much he likes someone else, Hiroya always comes back to me.
I just had to wait—for Hiroya to fall for me.

"Mahiro...?"

Hiroya opens his mouth with a slightly trembling voice.

"—Because it's true, isn't it? You always come to me in the end, Hiroya."

Hiroya lowers his brows and gives a soft laugh.

“...I should have told you sooner, Mahiro. I won't run away anymore.”
“Or rather, you can't run away, and I don't intend to let you, do I, Hiroya?”

This time, I was the one to wrap my arms around Hiroya's waist, meeting his gaze as I looked up at him.

“So I was in the palm of your hand from the very beginning, Mahiro?”
“...Obviously.”

When I chuckled, Hiroya pulled me into an even tighter embrace than before.
Ah, Hiroya. You were in the palm of my hand all along.
You came back to me, just as I knew you would—though I have no intention of letting you go anywhere ever again.

That night, for the first time, I fell asleep in Hiroya's arms.
When I woke up and looked at his sleeping face, I felt an emotion akin to pure delight.
Hiroya is defenselessly by my side. It feels unbearably comfortable.

And then, I gently trace my finger over Hiroya's lips.

(I won't let you go anywhere ever again.)

I whisper in my heart, then drop my voice low for the still-sleeping Hiroya.

“There’s no way you can run away, Hiroya—because you will always come back to me.”

The light from outside filters in through the curtains.
It quietly illuminates Hiroya's lips.
I kissed those illuminated lips once more.
(I won't let you go.)
I poured that thought into the kiss.

“...I’m not going anywhere anymore.”
“You were awake?”
“I’ve been pretending to sleep for a while now. To think I’d be so thoroughly ensnared by you, Mahiro. Don't you think you can run away from me either, okay?”

I burrow back into Hiroya's arms.
Just like this, we ensnare each other, fall, and never let go.
I wonder how long we took the long way around, when we had been ensnaring each other like this from the very start.

For the first time, Hiroya looks at me with a bewitching gaze, as if to provoke me.
That only makes me burn hotter, and ensnares him all the more.

Iru-san tends to write about uke characters with a yandere flavor whose love is too heavy.
The second-choice guy x (the guy who was effectively the second choice) with heavy love.
There’s no time-looping—right? This is safe, right?

※By the way, 🔹 appears when you convert the word 'shikaku' (a private note from last time when you asked about the space).