"Yui, nothing fits."
The sound of Jun's voice, a low, defeated grumble, pulled me from my thoughts. I turned from my closet to find him standing in the middle of my room, wearing a look of profound, philosophical confusion. And on his body was a ghost.
It was the graphic T-shirt I had bought him for his fifteenth birthday. The one with the goofy cartoon mascot we both loved. The one I had pulled from its cedar box on the anniversary of his disappearance, crying into the new-cotton smell that had never been warmed by his body.
Now, it was finally on him, and it was a disaster.
The fabric, which should have been a comfortable, loose fit, was stretched taut across the broad, unfamiliar landscape of his seventeen-year-old shoulders. It clung to his torso, ending a good two inches above his waist and revealing a teasing sliver of skin and the faint outline of his navel. He looked like a giant trying to fit into a doll's clothes.
"So," he said, turning with the stiff, awkward grace of a runway model in a terrible outfit. "Is this what they call fashion these days?"
A sound, a bright, unburdened bubble of laughter, escaped my lips. It was a sound I never thought I would associate with this shirt. For two years, this simple piece of cotton had been a sacred, painful relic. To even look at it was to invite a fresh wave of grief. But now, seeing it stretched ridiculously across the man who had come home to me, the sorrow had been replaced by pure, hilarious joy. I could finally laugh at it. I could finally laugh with him.
"Just wear the tracksuit, you idiot," I giggled, wiping a tear of mirth from my eye.
"Eh? But you bought it for me," he insisted, looking down at the strained fabric with a hint of pride. "I think I'll just go with this. You know, start a new trend. I'll be a trendsetter."
"Baka. I will not let you leave this house if you wear that," I declared, crossing my arms. "Think about my reputation! What will people say if my fiancé shows up looking like a sausage that's about to burst?"
"But…" He looked down at the shirt again, a flicker of genuine sentimentality in his eyes. He was thinking of the girl who bought it, not the shirt itself.
My own expression softened. I walked over and gently smoothed the fabric on his arm. "I'll buy you another one," I said softly. "A hundred more, if you want. I don't care about things like this anymore, Jun. Not now that you're here."
He sighed, defeated. He pulled the shirt over his head, put on his old tracksuit, and then promptly sat on the edge of my bed, watching me.
"Go wait downstairs," I shooed, waving a hand at him.
"But I want to see your dress," he pouted.
"Get out already! Don't rush me!"
He finally left, and I turned to face my own wardrobe. It wasn't that I minded changing in front of him. We'd been doing that in the same room since we were kids, our bodies as familiar to each other as our own reflections. But lately… lately, the way his eyes traced the curve of my waist or the line of my collarbone made my heart do a frantic, chaotic little dance.
This wasn't our first date. I'd lost count of how many dates we'd been on. But it felt like it. The first one since he came back. The first one since… everything. A nervous flutter took flight in my stomach.
"Ahh, why do I have so few clothes?" I muttered, pushing hangers back and forth. The truth was, for the past two years, my world had been a monochrome palette of school uniforms and the simple, dark clothes I wore for chores. I rarely went out, and when I did, it was usually with my mother, my mind too preoccupied to care about fashion.
Then, my fingers brushed against something soft and unfamiliar. Tucked in the very back was a white, sleeveless summer dress, the fabric light as a cloud. A present from my mother for my seventeenth birthday. A birthday I had spent guarding a ghost, with no cause for celebration. I had never even tried it on.
I slipped it over my head. It settled perfectly, the simple cut flattering in a way that felt both elegant and innocent. I looked at my reflection. A girl I barely recognized stared back, her eyes bright, a faint, happy flush on her cheeks.
"I guess this is it," I whispered.
Downstairs, Mom and Jun were chatting comfortably in the living room.
"...so we'll just head downtown. Probably to Atami," I heard Jun say.
He noticed me on the last step, and his words died in his throat. He just stared, his usual teasing smirk replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated awe.
"Wow," he breathed out. "That Onee-san vibe really suits you, Yui. You're so beautiful." He ran a hand through his hair, a bashful, clumsy gesture that was so unlike him. "Is it… is it really okay for a guy like me to go out with you?"
A hot blush crept up my neck, but I couldn't stop the brilliant, happy smile that spread across my face. "Baka."
"Oh, that one!" Mom came out of the kitchen, her face beaming with a proud, maternal glow. "I knew it would look wonderful on you, sweetheart."
Jun held out his hand, his gaze never leaving mine. I took it, his warm fingers lacing through mine. He pulled me toward the door.
"We're leaving!" we called out in unison.
The walk to the station was a dream painted in the soft colors of spring. We held hands, our steps falling into their old, familiar rhythm. The path wound through our small, quiet seaside town, past old houses with tiled roofs and the gentle, lapping sound of the sea just beyond the breakwater.
"Jun," I said, his name a soft sound in the peaceful air.
"What is it?"
I let go of his hand and stepped a few paces ahead, turning to face him. I spread my arms out, the white fabric of the dress fluttering in the slight breeze. "Umm… do I look weird?" I asked, my voice suddenly small. "This is a summer dress, but… it's still spring."
He just looked at me, a slow, breathtaking smile spreading across his face. "You look like a princess who got lost on her way down from the heavens," he said, his voice low and serious. He stepped forward, taking my hand again and pulling me into a slow, graceful spin.
A happy, surprised laugh escaped my lips as I twirled. Before I could regain my balance, he swept me off my feet.
"And a princess," he declared, holding me effortlessly in a bridal carry, "needs to be carried."
I didn't complain. I just laughed, looping my arms around his neck and accepting my fate. "You really love carrying girls, don't you?" I teased. I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, then rested my head against his shoulder, admiring the sharp, handsome line of his jaw. My heart felt so full, so bright, I thought it might just float away.
The train to Atami, our old, beloved date spot, grew more crowded with each stop. We ended up giving our seats to a pair of elderly women, who rewarded our chivalry with a handful of hard candies that tasted sweetly of nostalgia.
We found a spot in a corner of the carriage, and I leaned against the cool wall of the train while Jun stood in front of me, his body a solid, protective shield against the jostling crowd. As more people pushed in, the space between us vanished. We were pressed close, the warmth of his body seeping into mine.
With a sudden lurch, the train screeched to a halt. Jun's body was thrown forward, his hips pressing flush against mine, the hard ridge of his thigh pushing insistently into the soft juncture of my legs. A jolt of heat, a vivid memory of the previous night, shot straight through me.
My cheeks flushed, but the bold, wicked girl who had emerged last night decided to make an appearance. I leaned in, my lips brushing against his ear.
"Jun," I whispered, my voice a low, teasing purr. "We can't do it here."
He flinched, his entire body going rigid. "Y-Yui, this isn't the place," he hissed back, trying to push himself away, but the crowd held him fast. "Please, give me a break."
I giggled, seeing his ears turn a furious shade of red. It was so much fun. The train started moving again, the momentum pressing him back against me, trapping him in the pervert position.
Feeling emboldened, I let my voice rise just a little, a playful, scandalized gasp. "Stop molesting me, you pervert!"
"Yui, I'm begging you, stop teasing me already," he whispered desperately.
"Hehe."
A hand suddenly shot out from the crowd and grabbed Jun's wrist.
"You molester!" a boy our age shouted, his face a mask of righteous fury. "Get away from her!"
"No, this is—" Jun started, his eyes wide with shock.
The boy cut him off, yanking on the collar of Jun's tracksuit. "I heard you! Everyone, this guy is harassing this girl!"
The accusation, loud and sharp, sliced through the noise of the train. Heads turned. A murmur rippled through the carriage. A few people started to glare, their faces hardening with suspicion.
My blood ran cold. This was my fault. My stupid, reckless game had created this nightmare.
I didn't think. I reacted. I launched myself forward, wrapping my arms around Jun's waist in an iron grip, burying my face in his chest.
"NO!" I shouted, my voice ringing through the suddenly silent carriage. "This is my husband! He can do whatever he wants with my body!"
Absolute, dead silence.
The weight of my own words crashed down on me. I could feel dozens of eyes on us. Cheeks burning with a heat that could melt steel, I looked up, my voice dropping to a mortified whisper. "It's a misunderstanding… he's my husband."
I turned my most ferocious glare on the would-be hero. "Get your hands off him," I commanded.
The boy's face was a perfect portrait of someone who had just tried to play the hero and ended up sentencing an innocent man. He let go of Jun's collar as if it were on fire, his expression a mixture of horror and profound embarrassment.
"Our apologies for the disturbance," Jun said to the crowd, bowing his head.
Then, he turned to me. His hands came up and gently, but firmly, pinched both of my cheeks. "I told you to stop," he scolded, his voice low and exasperated.
"I'm thorry," I mumbled, my words distorted by his grip.
Even as he scolded me, I refused to let go, keeping my arms locked around his waist. All the way to Atami, I stayed like that, clinging to him. Part of me was mortified, knowing the entire carriage was watching the strange, clingy wife and her long-suffering husband. But another part of me accepted it. This was my punishment. And honestly, it wasn't so bad.