I was in the living room in the middle of the night, listening to the air conditioner hum as it held back the winter chill. I groaned softly along with the sound of the machine, solving problems in my physics workbook. Without looking, I felt along the table’s surface, grabbed my cup, and took a sip.
Hmm?
My concentration broke when liquid failed to reach my lips. The coffee cup was empty.
I tilted it further and pathetically licked up the last few drops, but that was it—nothing else was left.
It was late. If I had another cup, I might not be able to sleep at all. I considered my options. My mind dull and unfocused, I debated pouring myself a glass of something else.
That was when I heard a voice behind me. “Huh?”
I turned around and saw Ayase. She and I were the same age, and we’d become stepsiblings about six months ago.
“Oh, sorry,” I said. “Did the sound of the air conditioner bother you?”
“Oh, no. My door was closed. I was just surprised to see you in the living room at this hour.”
I looked up at the clock and realized that it was a little after eleven. Around this time, I was usually holed up in my room.
“Do you want some hot chocolate?” Ayase asked, pointing to the empty cup in my hand.
“Yeah, that sounds nice.”
“I’m having some, so I’ll make you a cup, too.”
“Thanks.”
After turning on the electric kettle, Ayase took a can of hot chocolate powder from the cupboard, as well as a cup for herself and a large mug. Then she sat down and waited.
In the meantime, I rinsed out the cup I’d been using, then I opened the fridge and got some milk. I poured that into the large mug, popped it in the microwave, and pressed the button marked HOT MILK.
Once the kettle went off, Ayase took her own cup and put in the hot chocolate powder, sugar, and a small amount of boiling water, then stirred the mixture into a paste. She was usually cool and composed, but now, spoon in hand, she stirred and stirred like an eager child.
Suddenly, the microwave pinged.
“It’s done,” I announced.
“Thanks.” Ayase poured half the hot chocolate paste into my cup, then mixed in the milk a little at a time.
“Adding some butter would make it taste really good,” Ayase said, sounding a little hesitant.
“We don’t need to make it that authentic.”
“I guess not. It’s pretty late, after all,” she said, stirring the chocolate paste into the milk. “Speaking of, don’t you usually study in your room?”
“That’s what I was doing. But I started to lose focus, so I came out here. I thought moving might clear my mind.”
“I see. That makes some sense.” She finished stirring and pushed the cup toward me. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
Next, she started working on her own cup. It might not seem like much, but Ayase almost always prepared everyone else’s drinks or snacks before her own. That was just who she was. The exception was when she was making things that were served hot and cooled off quickly. Then she’d finish hers first, so whoever she was with would get the freshest one.
Ever since I started living with Ayase, I’d begun to pay more attention to the little things people did around me.
“Okay, mine’s done, too.” Looking satisfied, Ayase brought her cup to her mouth and tilted it. I saw her throat bob as she swallowed, then her eyes narrowed in a smile.
I drank a bit, too. “Mmm. It’s good.”
“You didn’t have to wait for me.”
“I wanted to let you have a taste before I spoiled how delicious it was.”
Ayase chuckled. “You’re a real weirdo.”
The aroma of hot chocolate wafted up to my nostrils as time seemed to slow down. We both took another sip.
“It’s getting cold these days,” said Ayase.
“Yeah. It’s already December.”
I couldn’t stop focusing on her lips as she spoke and sipped her hot chocolate. They were cherry red.
A blush rose to my cheeks as I recalled what had happened on Halloween night. We’d sought each other’s touch as two people in love, confirming our feelings with a kiss.
Back in autumn, I’d been happy just to be near her and to feel her warmth. But as we entered winter, I began to want more. Did people grow accustomed even to happiness, so that they needed more and more?
We’d only kissed the one time. After Halloween, it was already time to study for exams.
Ayase and I both understood the importance of getting good grades, and we’d agreed not to let ourselves get distracted.
We also had to think about timing, since we couldn’t let anyone else find out about us. We were siblings in high school, and we still lived with our parents. It was awkward enough for two classmates to flirt at home. For a brother and sister, the hurdle was even higher.
I mulled all this over as I drank my hot chocolate. Was there any way for us to increase our time together as a couple?
Suddenly, a thought came to me.
Both our birthdays were in December. Only last week, we’d discussed celebrating with our family, and I’d found out that Ayase’s birthday was on the twentieth. Mine, incidentally, was on the thirteenth.
As expected, our parents quickly decided we would celebrate them both on the twenty-fourth. Ayase and I had just been discussing how our birthdays always got lumped together with Christmas, and we couldn’t help laughing when it happened again—this time, to both of us at once.
“What are you laughing about?” Ayase asked, looking at me quizzically. “Did you remember something funny?”
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
“Huh.”
Ayase got up without prying any further. Holding her cup between her hands as if to warm them, she headed back to her room. Then a thought seemed to strike her, and she tiptoed quietly back to the table.
“Hey, about our birthdays,” she said.
“Huh?”
My heart skipped a beat. Strangely, just knowing the person I loved was having the same thought that I was brought warmth to my chest.
“Our family might be celebrating on the twenty-fourth, but why don’t the two of us do something on the day of?”
“You mean on the thirteenth and the twentieth?”
“Yeah. Neither of us have ever celebrated on our actual birthday, right?”
“I guess not.”
“I figured. I was thinking it would be nice to spend our birthdays not as siblings, but as…you know.”
I did know. And I felt the same way.
“Yeah, I think so, too.”
“In that case, I have something I’d like to discuss. I was going to tell you after exams, but…” Ayase proceeded to share a certain conversation she’d had with Dad around Halloween.
“Even if you did break the law, you’d have to be punished, of course, but I wouldn’t disown you or Yuuta. Ever.”
Apparently, Dad had said that. I thought he’d just been trying to act cool, but I kept that to myself. I was sure he’d meant what he said, either way.
“I bet Akiko would say the same thing to me,” I said. “Though she probably wouldn’t say it in front of you.”
“Maybe not.” Her answer was short, but I could see a smile forming on her face. The thought must have made her happy.
“Anyway, when I heard that, I had a thought.” Ayase swallowed. She seemed unsure if she should say the next part out loud. In the end, she went ahead. “Maybe our family would approve of our relationship.”
I thought it over. It seemed possible.
“Personally, I think Dad would be honest with us. He’d tell us straight-out if he didn’t like it or if it wasn’t all right with him. He might look like a pushover, but he’s got a pretty thick skin. Maybe it would be fine.” Even when his previous marriage fell apart, Dad never complained, though he did apologize to me. “But I’m not sure if Akiko would be honest with us if she had mixed feelings.”
“So you think your dad would be okay with it, but you aren’t sure about my mom. Can I ask why?”
“I’m worried she might regret getting married to Dad.”
“Asamura, have you seen them? Those two would never—”
“I know in my head that Akiko is different, but my birth mother always hid how unhappy she was. I can’t help wondering if Akiko is only holding in her frustrations…just like she did.”
“Geez.”
That was all Ayase said. I was sure she wanted to deny what I was saying outright, and I had to respect her self-restraint.
I was letting my bad memories of my birth mother color my impression of Akiko; I knew it was disrespectful to her. But I couldn’t help feeling that maybe things were going well right now only because Dad and Akiko were still in love and that dissatisfaction might be bubbling up somewhere we couldn’t see. Since I couldn’t read minds, it was impossible for me to be sure.
I knew too well what happened when a person kept their unhappiness bottled up inside.
The only time my father and mother stopped arguing was when we celebrated my birthday.
Ayase took a breath. “It was the same for me.”
I gasped. If Dad started regretting his marriage, Ayase would be just as sad.
“I had the same concerns until I spoke to him,” she said.
“You did?”
“Yeah… But I won’t tell you to talk to Mom. Even if she said the same thing, you aren’t me, and you won’t necessarily feel the same way I do.”
“Oh yeah. I guess not.”
“Anyway,” she said, smiling, “I don’t think we need to confess to everything just yet.”
Her expression reassured me. She seemed to be saying, “It’s all right,” and looking at her, my heart felt lighter.
“Let’s talk about our birthdays later,” she said. “I’ll go back to studying for now.”
“Okay. I’ll keep working out here for a little while.”
“Don’t push yourself too hard.”
“Same to you.”
I watched her, white cardigan slung over her shoulders, as she walked back into her room and closed the door. Then I sighed and drained my cup. The chocolate powder that had collected at the bottom stuck to my throat, refusing to go down.