Chapter 27: Fallout and Feelings

The Sato household was a war zone of silence that night. Riku sat on the couch, staring at the TV without seeing it, the muted infomercial about vegetable choppers a dull hum in the background. Aiko's door had stayed shut since she'd stormed upstairs, her confession and his fumbling response hanging over him like a storm cloud. *"Maybe I liked you more than I should."* *"It wasn't all fake for me either."* The words looped in his head, each replay tightening the knot in his chest.

His parents came home late, their chatter about groceries fading as they noticed his zombie-like stare. "Riku, you okay?" his mom asked, setting a bag on the counter.

"Yeah," he lied, forcing a smile. "Just tired."

She frowned but didn't push, bustling off to the kitchen. His dad grunted, "Get some sleep," and disappeared upstairs. Riku stayed put, half-hoping Aiko would come down, half-dreading it. She didn't.

Sleep was a lost cause. He tossed in bed, the thin wall between their rooms amplifying every creak and shuffle from her side. Was she awake too? Crying? Plotting his demise? He groaned, burying his face in his pillow. This was why he'd avoided feelings—too messy, too loud, too everything.

---

Morning broke gray and dreary, matching Riku's mood. He dragged himself downstairs, hoping to avoid Aiko, but she was already there, sipping tea in her uniform, her eyes shadowed like she'd slept as badly as he had. She didn't look at him as he grabbed a rice ball, the silence thicker than the fog outside.

"We should go," he said finally, voice rough. "School."

She nodded, grabbing her bag without a word. The walk to Yamato High was torture—no teasing, no arm-linking, just two people side by side but miles apart. Riku's mind raced for something to say—*"I'm sorry"*? *"Let's talk"*?—but his tongue stayed glued to the roof of his mouth.

Class 2-B was a pressure cooker when they arrived. Whispers followed them like flies—*"They're not talking!"* *"Guess it's over!"*—and Riku sank into his seat, avoiding Haruka's wounded stare and Yuna's smug grin from the doorway. Aiko sat beside him, her usual swagger gone, her pencil tapping a nervous rhythm against her desk.

Mika slipped in late, her glasses fogged from the drizzle outside, and shot Riku a hesitant glance before burying herself in a book. The tension was suffocating, and when the bell rang for lunch, he bolted, muttering, "Bathroom," to no one in particular.

He didn't make it far. Haruka caught him in the hall, her arms crossed and her voice sharp. "Riku, we need to talk."

He winced, turning to face her. "Haruka, I—"

"Is it true?" she interrupted, her eyes glistening. "What Aiko said yesterday—does she really like you? Do you… like her back?"

Riku's throat tightened. "It's complicated," he said weakly. "We were faking it to stop the rumors, but then she said… and I don't know what I—"

"Complicated?" Haruka's voice cracked. "You turned me down because you weren't ready, but now you're 'complicated' with her? That's not fair, Riku!"

"I know!" he said, hands clenching. "I didn't mean to hurt you—I didn't plan any of this!"

She wiped her eyes, her shoulders shaking. "I liked you so much. And now I feel stupid." She pushed past him, her footsteps echoing down the hall, leaving him with a fresh stab of guilt.

---

Back in the classroom, Aiko hadn't moved, her bento untouched. Riku sat beside her, the silence unbearable. "Haruka's mad," he said finally, staring at his hands. "She heard everything yesterday."

Aiko's pencil stopped tapping. "Great," she muttered, her voice hoarse. "Another mess I made."

"It's not just you," he said, risking a glance at her. Her profile was tense, her lips pressed thin. "I said stuff too. We're both in this."

She laughed—a dry, brittle sound—and turned to him, her eyes red-rimmed. "You think? I'm the idiot who blurted it out. Now everyone knows, and you're stuck cleaning it up."

"I'm not cleaning anything," he said, frustration bubbling up. "I don't even know what I'm feeling! You dropped that on me, and I—I can't figure it out with you shutting me out!"

Her gaze softened, just for a second, then hardened again. "Maybe I shouldn't have said it. Maybe we should just… stop."

"Stop what?" he asked, his voice rising. "The fake stuff? The talking? Us?"

She flinched, standing abruptly. "All of it," she said, grabbing her bag. "I need air." She stormed out, leaving him staring at her empty seat, his chest tight.

---

The drama club rehearsal that afternoon was a disaster waiting to happen. Hiro insisted they run the rescue scene again—"Fix the energy!" he barked—and Riku stood on the stage, sword in hand, as Aiko swooned into his arms. Her tiara slipped, her body stiff against his, and he caught her waist, their faces inches apart.

"Kiss her!" Hiro shouted, oblivious to the tension.

Riku's grip tightened, his breath catching. Aiko's eyes met his, wide and unguarded, and for a heartbeat, he thought she'd pull away. Instead, she leaned in—just a fraction, her lips brushing his chin as she whispered, "Don't."

He froze, the almost-kiss electric, her breath warm against his skin. Then she stumbled back, her skirt catching on the prop sword and hiking up to flash her thigh. "Crap!" she yelped, yanking it down as the club erupted in laughter.

"Perfect comedy!" Yuna called from the sidelines, clapping. "You two are a riot!"

Riku's face burned, and Aiko bolted offstage, muttering about costumes. He followed, catching her in the prop room, where she was fussing with a tangled cape.

"Aiko," he said, shutting the door behind him. "We can't keep doing this."

She didn't turn, her hands shaking as she yanked at the fabric. "Doing what? Screwing everything up?"

"No," he said, stepping closer. "Avoiding each other. You said you liked me. I said it wasn't all fake. We can't just… pretend that didn't happen."

She spun, her eyes blazing. "What do you want me to do, Riku? Admit it again? Cry about it? I'm not some lovesick cliché—I'm your cousin, and this is messed up!"

"So what?" he shot back, his voice rising. "You think I'm not freaked out? I don't know what this is, but I know it's not nothing!"

Her breath hitched, tears spilling over. "You're an idiot," she choked out, shoving past him. But he grabbed her arm, pulling her back, and she crashed into his chest, her hands fisting in his shirt.

"Let go," she whispered, but she didn't move, her face buried against him.

"No," he said, his voice soft, his arms wrapping around her. "Not this time."

She trembled, then sagged, her tears soaking his shirt. "I hate you," she mumbled, but her grip tightened, and he held her closer, his heart pounding.

The door banged open, and Yuna poked her head in, grinning. "Ooh, drama! Guess the fake-out's officially off?"

Riku yelped, shoving Aiko behind him as she wiped her face, glaring. "Get out!" they shouted in unison, and Yuna laughed, ducking back out.

Alone again, Aiko stepped away, her cheeks wet but her smirk returning. "We're a mess," she said, voice shaky.

"Yeah," Riku agreed, rubbing his neck. "But… maybe that's okay?"

She didn't answer, just looked at him—really looked—and for the first time, he saw something raw beneath her bravado. The fallout was here, and the feelings weren't going anywhere.