My Ex-Girlfriend’s Sister Ran Away to My Room, and We Can’t Stop Making Mistakes. - Chapter 15: I Love You.

I Love You.

“I’m sorry…”

Mii spoke with her head cast down as we sat on the train ride home. I had tried to take her to a hospital, but it turned out she didn’t even have her insurance card on her.

“It’s okay. It happens all the time.”

“Since when?”

“Since around the time I started middle school. Whenever I hear a police siren… sometimes I just end up like that.”

The wail of a siren and the flicker of red lights were the triggers.

“Is that so?” I asked quietly.

“Ever since then,” she murmured.

***

“I love you.”

“I’m sorry,” Mii whispered again, her voice heavy with a lingering tremor.

I had tried to take her to a clinic, but she didn’t even have her insurance card.

“It’s fine. This happens all the time,” she insisted.

“Since when?”

“Since I started middle school, I think. Sometimes, when I hear a police car, I just… end up like this.”

The wail of a siren and the flicker of red lights were the triggers.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, though the weight in my chest didn’t lighten.

“I’m not worried,” she replied, her voice small. “I’m just… tired.”

We walked back to the apartment in a silence that felt far more fragile than usual. Once inside, the atmosphere shifted, growing heavy with a desperate, cloying heat.

“Saki-nii…”

Mii reached out, her fingers trembling as she tugged at my clothes. Her eyes were unfocused, glazed with a mixture of trauma and a frantic need to drown it out.

“Make me forget,” she whispered, her breath warm against my skin. “Please. I don’t want to think about the sirens. I don’t want to think about anything.”

She pressed herself against me, her body shivering. There was no hesitation in her movements, only a raw, jagged hunger to be filled, to be consumed until the world outside ceased to exist.

“Mii, wait—”

“No. Don’t stop.” She fumbled with her own clothes, the fabric sliding away to reveal pale, trembling skin. “I want you to hurt me. I want you to love me. Just… make the sound go away.”

Her hands were everywhere, frantic and cold, seeking warmth. When I finally gave in and pulled her close, the air in the room seemed to thicken. Every touch felt like an anchor, grounding her even as she spiraled.

The eroticism of the moment was laced with a profound, aching sadness. Her gasps weren’t just born of pleasure, but of a desperate struggle to remain in the present, to overwrite the ghosts of her past with the sensation of my touch.

“Saki-nii… Saki-nii…”

She sobbed my name against my neck, her body arching as she sought a release that was as much emotional as it was physical. In that dimly lit room, surrounded by the scent of her skin and the frantic rhythm of our breathing, the world outside—with its sirens and red lights—felt a lifetime away.

“I love you,” she whispered into the crook of my shoulder, her voice breaking. “I love you so much it hurts.”

I didn’t answer. I only held her tighter, wondering if love was ever supposed to feel this much like drowning.