Chapter Text
She’s kind of cute, he notices. Something compels him to talk to her more. Entertain her stupid little antics more. Reluctantly listen to her more. Tease her more.
He even lets her cling onto him a few times, before it becomes bothersome and he has to shrug her off.
He finds that he even enjoys her touch.
Irie doesn’t even mind when she blabbers at the kitchen table, finds it entertaining until she starts talking about absolute bullshit, and then he becomes aware of himself, wonders why he’s even listening to Kotoko of all people.
Still. Irie finds that when Kotoko talks less, she is not bad. She almost seems…normal when she’s quiet.
That is, when she’s not sad. Kotoko is always quiet when she’s sad, almost mute.
The only time she’s quiet and calm is when she’s asleep. Then, she’s very pretty. Extremely beautiful even, when she’s not making absurd facial expressions or crying or stuffing food in her mouth or coughing.
Irie sees her fall asleep a whole lot. She sleeps everywhere and all the time, so often that he’s beginning to wonder if she has low iron or a sleep disorder. Her father just says that’s how she’s always been, but he himself falls asleep just as often as his daughter.
Irie supposes genetics always prevails.
He doesn’t really care.
Whatever it is, Kotoko is getting a whole lot more tolerable.
Perhaps Irie is just getting used to her. That must be it.
No matter. He still suspects Kotoko has something to do with it, wonders if she’s adding aphrodisiacs in his drinks.
Even that is too much for her, but Irie watches her carefully from then on, pays more attention to her.
She’s not entirely bad, Irie thinks, when she shows up in a new dress, something that he’s never seen her in before. It is nice on her. He enjoys the pleasant feeling in his chest for a moment or so, but when his mother claps her hands and asks him what he thinks of Kotoko’s outfit, he frowns at both of them, leaves the table.
His mother’s meddling is maddening. It’s as if the entire mood of the situation relies on his approval. It is concerning, the amount of energy she expends into a relationship that doesn’t even exist. She’s probably the sole cause of Kotoko’s delusion. The thought makes Irie wonder if his mother is the reason why Kotoko can’t get over him.
He would very much like Kotoko to get over him. He would like Kotoko to leave his house entirely.
He leaves the house himself.
He sighs when he hears sandals slapping against the pavement of the driveway. He’s not even 3 meters away from the door.
Of course, she’s gone to chase after him.
It’s Kotoko. He knows the sound of her running after him, has heard it plenty of times. Irie ignores her question, tries to forget about her silly purple dress.
“Go back home,” he tells her. “I’m going for a walk.”
“I can walk with you,” she says, still smiling. “You’ll get lonely.”
“I’d rather be lonely, in all honesty.”
Kotoko says nothing.
He is pleased to see that she’s not smiling at all anymore.
“Why are you still here? Are you waiting for me to do something? What are you waiting for?” Irie can’t help it, he takes a step closer to her, runs a hand through his hair.
“You’re not doing this to me again! You’ve got so much girls that like you — ”
“Like Yuuko Matsumoto?” A name drop of the new girl.
“Like Yuuko Matsumoto! I want you to stop messing with me,” Kotoko says, her voice lowering considerably. “It’s, it’s okay if you don’t like me — I know you don’t like me — but you don’t have to mess with me.” She pauses. “Why do you mess with me?”
Irie smiles. “Even the rich collect pennies, don’t they?”
He watches her leave, wonders if she’s crying.
He keeps walking.