Can a misanthrope have a harem?

No one moved.

We just stood there. Me holding something sweet I couldn't bring myself to eat. Alya looking like she wanted to punch a wall or hold my hand and couldn't decide which. Mahiru with that soft grief in her eyes, the kind that had lived there for longer than it should have.

Eventually, Alya spoke.

"Come on," she muttered. "You'll pass out at this rate."

I didn't move.

Mahiru nudged me gently. "Just… for a minute. Sit down. Please."

The three of us ended up on the back steps behind the building. No one else came through. It was quiet. Almost peaceful.

I sat with my head leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. Mahiru handed me a bottle of tea. Alya didn't say anything, but she sat close. Not touching. Just there.

The kind of silence that didn't need to be broken.

Eventually, Alya stood. "I'll cover for you if you miss next period."

Mahiru looked at me, hesitating. "Do you want company or…"

…I shook my head.

Not because I didn't want them there, but because I didn't trust myself with their kindness. Not right now.

Mahiru nodded like she understood anyway. "We'll be nearby," she said gently, standing to follow Alya.

Just before turning the corner, Alya glanced back over her shoulder. Her hair caught the light, her eyes unreadable.

"Don't disappear on us, Aiko."

Then they were gone.

...

I sat there for a long time, fingers curled around the lukewarm bottle of tea I hadn't opened. My legs were starting to go numb, but it didn't matter. The quiet settled around me like a second skin. Like fog.

The worst part wasn't the memories.

It was the lack of them.

They remembered every version of me. Every word I never said. Every smile I never gave. And me? I was stuck in a life half-lived, haunted by people who stared at me like I was a ghost wearing their favorite person's face.

It wasn't fair. To them. To me.

But I couldn't fix what I didn't understand. I didn't know the boy they kept loving. I only knew I wasn't him.

I drew my knees up and pressed my forehead against them, eyes shut.

The wind stirred, brushing faintly through my hair.

Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang.

...

I finally stood.

Made my way back inside.

The hallway was mostly empty, class had already started. My footsteps echoed a little too loud against the tile. I didn't really know where I was going.

Then I turned a corner and nearly walked straight into someone.

Two people, actually.

Yukino Yukinoshita. And Yui Yuigahama.

Yukino was carrying a folder. Yui had her hands behind her back, her usual bounce muted.

They both stopped when they saw me.

For a second, no one said anything.

Then Yukino spoke, voice cool but not cold. "You missed class."

I looked at her. "Yeah."

Yui took a step closer. "We were looking for you."

I blinked. "Why?"

Yukino arched an eyebrow. "Because we knew you'd be like this."

"Like what?"

Yui smiled sadly. "Lonely."

I opened my mouth. Closed it. I didn't have a comeback. Not this time.

Yukino studied me for a long second. "You're unraveling, Aizawa. Bit by bit. Don't think we haven't noticed."

I leaned against the wall, more tired than I wanted to admit. "Maybe I was always unraveling. You're all just around to see it this time."

Yui frowned. "You're not alone."

"Could've fooled me."

The words came out sharper than I meant. Yui flinched slightly, but didn't back away.

Yukino didn't move at all. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I laughed. Short. Bitter. "You already know everything, don't you? The timelines. The shrine. December 28th. The cursed boy who dies over and over. What's left for me to say?"

Yui's voice was quiet. "Maybe we want to hear it from you."

That stung. Because part of me did want to say something. Anything. Scream. Cry. Beg for someone to make sense of this.

But I didn't know how.

Instead, I looked at them, and for the first time, I saw it.

The grief in Yukino's stillness. The ache behind Yui's smile.

They weren't just waiting for me to remember.

They were mourning someone who hadn't died yet.

Me.

Yukino crossed her arms, leaning slightly against the opposite wall. The light from the windows haloed her hair, but her expression was all tension and quiet exhaustion.

"You think you're the only one hurting?" she asked.

I looked up, surprised by the sharpness in her voice.

"You think this is easy for us?" she continued. "Watching you stumble through each day like you're made of glass and shadows? Pretending we're not drowning every time you forget us again?"

Yui bit her lip, her fingers tightening behind her back. "We've done this before, Aiko. Not just once. Not just twice. Every time… you come back. But every time, you forget."

"I didn't ask to come back," I muttered. "I didn't ask to be some… cursed tragedy everyone remembers but me."

Yukino's expression didn't soften. "No, you didn't. And we didn't ask to keep losing you."

Yui stepped closer now, her voice trembling. "You always look at us like we're strangers, Aiko. But we remember everything. The snow. The shrine. The promises. The stupid things. The quiet mornings. We remember you."

I couldn't look at her.

Because I was afraid I'd see tears. Or worse - hope.

"We try not to make it worse for you," Yui went on. "We try not to push. But watching you disappear again and again, without ever being able to stop it-"

She choked on the words. Yukino's hand gently brushed against her shoulder.

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of both their eyes on me.

"I didn't mean to…" I started, then stopped. "I just… I don't know what to do. I don't know who I'm supposed to be."

"You're supposed to be you," Yukino said. "That's all we want. Even if you never remember. Even if it hurts."

"And it does hurt," Yui whispered. "Every time you look at me like you don't know me. Every time I see you getting closer to someone else and wonder if that's the life you'll choose this time."

She blinked quickly, looking down.

"I shouldn't say that," she added. "Sorry."

"No," I said quietly. "You should."

We stood there for a beat, the hallway stretching out too quiet, the air too full.

"…Why do you keep doing this?" I asked finally. "If it hurts so much. If I'm just going to forget you again."

Yukino's gaze didn't waver. "Because we don't stop loving you just because you forget."

Yui gave a tiny nod. "Because even if we lose you… We'd rather have some time with you than none."

I felt my chest tighten.

Too many words. Too much truth.

I looked away. "I'm… sorry. For all of it."

Yukino stepped forward now, voice gentler. "Don't be sorry for forgetting. Just… don't run from us."

Yui smiled softly through the ache in her eyes. "We're still here, Aiko. You don't have to carry this alone."

I nodded, slowly, unsure if I meant it, but needing to believe it.

"…Thanks," I said.

And for once, I meant that too.

...

The corridor had emptied again.

Aiko's footsteps faded down the stairs, swallowed by the school's noise. Neither of them moved for a long while.

Yui leaned against the window, arms crossed tightly around herself, as if holding something in.

Yukino stood in silence, her posture too perfect to be natural. Like she was holding herself together out of habit.

"…That went better than I thought," Yui said, voice soft.

Yukino didn't answer immediately.

"He looked at us," Yui added. "Really looked this time. That hasn't happened in weeks."

"He's unraveling," Yukino said at last. "And we're all just… trying to slow the threads."

Yui gave a short, sad laugh. "You always sound like you're narrating a poem when you're upset."

"I'm not upset," Yukino replied too quickly.

Yui didn't press.

But silence stretched between them again, heavy and familiar.

"Do you ever think," Yui said finally, "that maybe we're being selfish? Keeping him here. Clinging."

"No," Yukino said. Firm. Too fast again. "I think we're being human."

Yui turned, meeting her eyes. "Even if he doesn't remember us? Even if he dies again?"

Yukino looked away, just slightly. "Especially then."

"I hate this," Yui whispered. "I hate waiting for him to disappear. For the day we know is coming."

Yukino's fingers curled around her sleeve. "December 28."

"Do you remember what he said to you last time?" Yui asked.

Yukino's lips parted. Then shut.

"Yes," she said quietly. "And no."

Yui nodded, looking back out the window.

"I used to think… if I just said the right words, did the right thing, maybe this would be the time he remembered," Yui murmured. "Maybe this time, he'd stay."

"You still think that," Yukino said, without cruelty.

Yui smiled, bitter and warm. "I still hope that."

Yukino let out a breath. "Hope is dangerous."

"It's all we have."

They stood like that, the autumn light fading into the corners of the hallway. Students laughing distantly. Life going on.

But for the two of them, it felt like standing still in a collapsing timeline.

"He's scared," Yukino said. "Not just of us. Of himself."

"I know," Yui said. "But he's still him. Somewhere under all that fear and detachment, he's still the boy who held my hand at the festival and whispered my name like it mattered."

Yukino didn't answer right away. When she did, her voice was low.

"He used to say mine like it was a challenge," she said. "Like daring me not to fall in love with him."

Yui looked at her. "Did it work?"

Yukino smiled faintly, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"No," she said. "I fell anyway."

Another silence. Softer this time.

Then Yui straightened. "He's going to need us. All of us."

"I know."

"Even if it breaks us."

"…Especially then."

The bell rang for the next period, but neither of them moved.

Because time was ticking down again. And they knew it.

And they stayed. Because that's what love does when everything else forgets.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading. You can also give me ideas for the future or pinpoint plot holes that I may have forgotten, if you want.