I stare right at the mirror in front of me. At the woman—girl wearing her usual work clothes despite no longer having a job to wear them to, the discarded, plaster-smudged tank top and pants from earlier peeking from the top of the laundry basket in the corner of the bathroom opposite my shower.
I am losing my mind.
"I am losing my mind," I blurt out into my phone because, well, why not? It's not like trying to have a filter is doing me any good under the present circumstances.
"I am seething with jealousy," Iroha earnestly replies.
Because of course.
"Try to run that by me?" I ask like somebody who doesn't know who she's talking to even as the Shizuka in the mirror tries to commiserate with me with downturned, despairing eyebrows.
"Do you want me to make a list? Because, right at the top, there would be how our boyfriend meeting your parents is much less likely to end up with you walking in on him shirtless and holding your father's chin—"
"He was sleep-deprived—"
"And that makes it so that his natural reaction is to try and restart my mother's libido after years of it not having been an issue. Of course. How could I ever hold that up against him?"
"I think you're doing a pretty good job…"
"Wha—that wasn't an actual question!"
Mirror Shizuka shrugs in a way that clearly conveys she isn't currently planning on crossing to this side of reality to take over my life.
Lucky bitch.
"I also wouldn't discard Hachi seducing my father. He is wearing his butler cosplay," I say against my better judgment.
"… It's like I'm dying of thirst, watching another woman drown."
"… It's like you're always dying of thirst, Iroha."
"Touché. Except not. Except I'm here, in my room, untouched, while my Mom is out in what she assures me is not a date despite her wearing a new dress that looks anything but professional, and you're going to sleep with Hachi after this whole thing is over, when you will have yet another cathartic sex marathon with plenty of things said that I won't be there to take part in."
"I am starting to think I should've called Haruno…" I say, with a bit of a frown from Mirror Shizuka, who's now judging me because I mildly sniped at my younger girlfriend.
"And why didn't you call Haruno?" she says with a tone about as cold as the stereotype says I should use the next time Hachi messes up in ways that are actually unplanned.
"… Because I know perfectly well what she would tell me?" I offer with a bit of a shrug of the sheepish variety.
"Really."
"I have known her for years."
"And just how many of those years were spent with you obliviously ignoring her all but throwing herself at you?"
"… Most of them?"
Iroha groans.
"Right," she says after a long pause that wouldn't have made me squirm if it was a bit more silent. "And you think you know precisely what Haruno would tell you now, of all times?"
"It would involve cackling," I say, reaching for low-hanging fruit.
"Yes. Yes, it would," she says with a tone as flat as… I don't know, the vital signs of the Haruhi franchise?
Then there's a bit more silence, and I try not to fret at the judgmental glance of Mirror Shizuka, and… Darn it.
"Iroha?"
"Yes?"
"I called you because I miss you."
There's some rustling, maybe that of somebody shifting on top of her bed, and then…
"I miss you too," she says with a lighter tone, her voice turned into a smiling whisper, and I can just picture her light eyes in front of me, both of us resting our heads on the same pillow as the younger girl trails her dangling fingers up my forearm.
"Come by. Tomorrow," I ask her, more demanding than I should be. Needier. Like a woman who has to be told not to send more than three text messages in a row. Like—
"Of course," she says.
I grasp the side of my sink with my free hand and slump forward, my back deprived of some of the tension that's been holding me upright for the past hour, and… and Mirror Shizuka smiles something bright, hopeful, and triumphant.
"Just try not to have Hachi too dehydrated to join in," she says with an airy giggle that makes Mirror Shizuka groan.
Really, I sympathize.
Even if the lucky bitch is still unwilling to take over for whatever will happen after I finally get out of the bathroom.
━❖━
After hanging up, washing my face, and futilely trying to collect my thoughts once again, I don't walk in on my shirtless boyfriend clasping my father's chin and staring soulfully into his eyes.
No.
No, I don't.
What I walk in is much, much worse.
"This is not what it looks like!" Dad says.
My left eye twitches in ways it had previously only done when going over Hachi's homework.
"Really! I'm innocent!" he keeps saying.
While holding my boyfriend in a bridal carry.
"Explain," I say, trying to channel both Mom at her worst and a dash of Haruno.
Going by Dad reflexively flinching away, I may have overshot—no. No. There's no overshooting my father carrying my boyfriend in a bridal—wait, is he actually unconscious? Is this a Sleeping Beauty setup, and right after I thought about Haruhi—
"He got drunk! I was just carrying him to your sofa—"
"There's nothing wrong with my sofa! My sofa is perfectly hygienic! I've got a vacuum, and I use it regularly!"
"Wait, what is wrong with your sofa—"
"Absolutely nothing! I just told you as much—what do you mean my boyfriend's drunk?!"
"I thought you'd already be used to that happening—"
"Wha—Dad!"
"Sorry! Sorry! He just kept taking sips, and talking, and, before I knew it, he was dozing off—I tried to cut him off, but the brat's persistent—"
"Oh, don't I know that—"
"Gross! Why would you tell me that—"
"Not like that, you moron! Just—just how much did you listen to him for your brain to rot this far?"
"You live with him; just how rotten is your anime-addled brain?!"
I open my mouth to offer a scathing rebuttal.
"Sweetie?" Dad asks after a moment of steadily growing existential horror.
"Just… Just lay him down on the sofa," I say, dragging my hand down my face to hide my perennial shame.
"That's what I was going to do from the start," he grumbles as he walks past me with Hachi making adorable—grumpy faces from where he's resting over the crook of Dad's elbow.
"Sure you were," I can't help but grumble, Dad's back stiffening at my words, making me sharpen my glare before he turns to meet me with a sheepish glance that would usually be accompanied by him rubbing the back of his head if it wasn't for my unconscious boyfriend lying in his arms—
Screw it.
"Wha—" he says.
"Mine," I answer as I grab Hachi from him and—huh. The exercise regime may be working. He's… he used to be much lighter than this.
I think.
It's not like I have lifted him up that often; it's mostly him lying on top of me and—not now, Inner Iroha.
"So manly," Dad says as he rolls his eyes and I throw another glare his way until he relents and gets out of my way.
"Nope. You're going to open the door to my bedroom," I tell him with a smidge of vindication.
"Wha—I don't want to see your debauched lair of—"
"It's just figurines! You saw me assemble most of them!" I say with what would usually involve some finger-pointing if not for the man lying on top of my quickly tiring arms that…
…
"Sweetie?" Dad asks.
"… You have seen nothing," I say, wiping whatever look I may have had on my face while I stared down at Hachi burrowing his face against my chest, tension draining away from him, and…
Damn it. I can't even blame Inner Iroha for this one.
"I wish I hadn't," Dad mumbles as he opens the door to my bedroom and flicks the lights on, his eyes going immediately to the glass display along the farthest wall and the shifting hues of colored LEDs slowly crawling over Gundam models that I'm reasonably sure could cover my groceries for a few months if I ever was that desperate.
I, as is the right of any daughter past puberty, ignore my father and walk slowly through the door, carefully leaning forward to rest Hachi on top of my bed, and… and it may be just the right kind of retribution to ask Dad to help me undress him, but, really, Iroha already put enough ideas in my head that I will never feel comfortable with Hachi and Dad being even lightly dressed in one another's presence, so I…
I…
I lean forward, kiss Hachi's forehead, and… and linger. Just feeling his skin smooth under my lips, watching all traces of tension fade away as he mumbles something with a smile that I can fool myself into thinking is aimed at me, even if it's more innocent than it should be. Cleaner. Purer.
Even if…
I pull slightly away, caressing his cheek, brushing the short bangs away, just… just taking in his scent, even with the slight hint of whisky clinging to him.
"I love you," I whisper, and that smile seems to grow beneath me.
When I look up, Dad's not in the room, so…
So I kiss Sleeping Beauty good night.
And there's far more whisky than I expected in his taste.
━❖━
"So. You got my boyfriend drunk," I say, about as angry as I can make myself feel when I walk back into my living room to glare at the man sitting on my sofa, and— "Stop looking at it like that!"
"I just… I was wondering if there were scorch marks or something."
"Dad."
"Fine! Blame your father for tactfully retreating and entertaining himself while you put your drunkard of a boyfriend to bed!"
"Are you trying to make me mad? Because I should tell you that I'm going out with both Haruno and Him. There's no way you're making me lose my composure when those two—"
"I've got your Precure cosplay in my phone."
I stare at him in horror.
He smiles.
"I will punch you," I say in the most unfilial way I'm capable of.
"The traditional threat involves nursing homes, sweetie."
"The nursing home will be too expensive for me after I'm done with you. Specialized care is not something I can afford on unemployment benefits."
"Good thing your mother's rich," he says with half a smirk.
"You own a gym chain."
"Well, good thing both your parents are rich," he amends with a shrug and…
Damn it.
I take a deep breath that I cover up by walking around the short end of my sofa before sitting at an angle from Dad, briefly noticing the two glasses refilled with Haruno's uncomfortably expensive whisky, the bowl filled with ice dripping condensation on the grey upholstery, and the upright bottle set against the backrest.
Dad offers me the glass that Hachi emptied right before, and I take a sip that is longer than it should be, but it lets me mask further discomfort that I know he's aware of, but he's considerate enough to pretend otherwise.
Because Dad.
"I'm not taking your money," I say as soon as the cool glass leaves my lips, with my throat still tingling from the passage of the fragrant drink that I haven't paid enough attention to.
"It will be your money. Someday," he says, his glass held with both hands between his open knees as he shrugs.
"Nope. You and Mom are going to live forever. It will always be your money," I say, maybe being about as stubborn as I tend to be when certain subjects come up, but…
"Hey," he says, a broad, warm hand resting on my shoulder, eyes lighter than mine waiting for me when I look up from amber liquid.
"I am dealing with enough changes already, Dad. Don't… Don't even make me think that you—"
"It was a joke, sweetie. Not planning on leaving you your inheritance anytime soon."
"Right," I say, trying to smile at the joke, and…
And he sets his glass by the side of the bottle and scoots over to sit right beside me, wrapping me in a hug that used to be more comforting when he could engulf my whole body with big muscles, back when I was a tiny girl, not as tomboyish as my athletic best friend, prone to skinning my knees at the park and then loudly crying about it.
It used to be as if he could stand between me and the entire world, keeping me safe.
Now…
Now I hug him back.
"We already put you through college once," he says.
"Yeah. You already did," I say, going for precisely the opposite meaning of his line. That they have already done enough. That I don't need them to—
"You've got a boy worried sick about ruining your life and trying to use his money to make things easier on you, sweetie. You can't tell me you're more comfortable with that than with accepting a hand from your rich parents."
"I—"
His hands on my shoulders push me away, but just enough that he can stare at me with a warm, gentle, reassuring smile. A Dad smile.
"He loves you," he says.
My cheeks burn. My breath catches. And yet… I manage to nod.
Dad shakes his head, his smile both softening and shrinking as he looks away for a moment before his eyes go back to mine.
"He loves you," he repeats, "and you love him. And that's… That's not enough. I wish I could tell you otherwise, that things will always work out for the best, but… it's a new relationship, and you've already gone through so many things that should have ended up in a bitter break-up… So… so let me make this at least a little easier on you? Let your mother and I take care of our daughter? Help you get the degree you should have gotten from the very start?"
"There's nothing wrong with my degree in—"
"There is. There is when all you've ever used it for has been to help others. You… Sweetie, I can't even begin to tell you how proud I am of the woman you've become. Of how every little story about one of your favorite students always made me feel. But I don't want to be proud; I want you to be happy. Okay? You get that? I just… I know you can do so much more than being a teacher gave you the chance to, and it just… let me. Let us do this for you. Please," he says.
And… And my throat's rough. My eyes sting. My words are held back as I just stare at Dad being… raw.
I want to accept.
And I don't want to.
I want to tell him that he doesn't have to worry. That I'm a grown-up woman, and, as many horrible messes as I get into, I can get out of them. That I don't need their help. That I want them to be there, but I want them to rely on me, that it's my turn to be strong if they ever need me. That I…
"Don't answer now," he says after the silence grows uncomfortable and his smile sours into a half-hearted grin. "Talk it out with your devious girlfriend; let her make the sense your old man apparently can't."
"The day Haruno makes sense is the day I get myself checked into a mental institution."
"Welcome to the wonderful world of dating women! And please don't tell your mother I just made that joke."
"Sure. You'll just have to delete my Precure cosplay."
His eyes widen, and his left hand flies from my shoulder to protectively cover his pocket as he pouts.
I roll my eyes.
And then I pull him closer so that I… so that I can offer him a hug that will not keep him safe. Because he doesn't need it. Because he's Dad, and he's big, strong, and doesn't need his silly, harebrained daughter to do anything other than not mess up as awfully as I often have in the past.
I just…
I just wish I could…
"Hey," he whispers with a warm voice that doesn't hold a trace of excessive whisky on it.
"Hey," I offer back, still clinging to him as his hands pat my back.
"It will be all right," he promises.
It's a senseless promise. He has no way of knowing. He can't make things all right. He can't keep the world away while a girl with skinned knees cries against his chest.
It's an empty promise. Just words.
But I still believe them.
━❖━⧫━❖━
Promises. Just words.
That's… basically all that I can offer you, at this point.
It's been months since I once again stopped updating this fic, and there are plenty of reasons for that, but none that I feel adequate enough. I would love to make up for it, but one does never properly make up for the past.
No. One does work in the present, and that, hopefully, builds a future.
In this particular case, the first step toward that future is that I'll be back to reposting daily chapters of this until we're caught up with the general public release, which is chapter 141. Then…
Well, the weekly schedule used to work well enough, didn't it?
So, yeah, that's the goal: for me to consistently release chapters once again, and with this story being, as it always has, one of the top priorities in that regard.
Wish me luck. I could do with some of it.
As always, I'd like to thank my credited supporters on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/Agrippa?fan_landing=true): aj0413, Crimson Grave, LearningDiscord, Niklarus, Tinkerware, Varosch, Vergil1989 Crossover King, and Xanah. If you feel like maybe giving them a hand with keeping me in the writing business (and getting an early peek at my chapters before they go public, among other perks), consider joining them or buying one of my books on https://www.amazon.com/stores/Terry-Lavere/author/B0BL7LSX2S. Thank you for reading!