Weren’t You Only Using Me As A Stand-in? [17]

“She doesn’t even like Tsubasa!”

“She just said yes to his confession. Doesn’t she have a single opinion of her own?”

“That shameless, shallow, frivolous girl.”

Inside the café, Shijō Maki was venting all her bitterness to Kitahara Takeru, dragging her best friend through the mud in a tirade of complaints.

At first, they’d just been having a casual chat.

But once Takeru had “accidentally” steered the topic toward romance, Maki couldn’t stop.

Maybe it had all been bottled up too long. Maybe it was because Takeru looked so much like Tanuma Tsubasa. That hint of familiarity made him feel safe — and they didn’t even know each other, which made it even easier to treat him like a one-time confessional. She just let everything pour out.

Girls’ friendships really are fragile, huh.

If Takeru remembered right, not five minutes ago she was saying Kashiwagi Nagisa was her best friend.

And now? She was calling her a “frivolous, shameless girl.”

But Takeru didn’t comment.

He knew better than to chime in when a girl was badmouthing her bestie. You never join in. Never agree, never pile on.

Because the moment you do, there’s a good chance she’ll start resenting you instead.

So he just listened. Like it was juicy gossip.

“Is Shijō-san really planning to just sit back and watch?”

Of course, he couldn’t just sit there saying nothing.

Even the most attentive listener needs to throw in a prompt or two now and then.

“You’re not going to do anything?”

Shijō Maki’s cherry-pink lips parted slightly as she took her mouth off her straw. She pushed back a lock of hair and said coolly:

“Do something? What a crude suggestion.”

“A refined lady like me would never stoop to stealing another girl’s boyfriend. That’s utterly disgraceful.”

“Love between high schoolers is just pretend anyway — childish roleplay. It won’t last.”

“They’ll break up soon enough.”

“There’s no need for me to do anything. I’ll just sit here sipping tea and wait for them to split.”

“So… whoever he dates, it doesn’t matter.”

Takeru considered that.

She wasn’t wrong.

Hardly any school relationships survived the graduation filter.

Graduation season was breakup season.

Didn’t expect her to be this rational.

Takeru had just mentally praised Maki’s clarity of mind when — a second later — he took it back.

Right in front of him, Shijō Maki began to sniffle, tiny teardrops sliding down her cheeks.

She wiped her eyes as she whispered, “As long as he eventually comes back to me… that’s enough.”

Takeru: “……”

So much for being the face of the independent modern woman.

You're just stubborn and in denial.

Crying under the bridge, wrapped in a blanket, sobbing “I’m fine, I swear”— classic.

“...Are you really okay with that?”

Takeru wasn’t even sure why he said it. It just bubbled up — triggered by a memory he hadn’t visited in a long time.

“Hmph.”

Maki lifted her chin haughtily, her tone regal, proud — like a swan refusing to acknowledge it was wounded.

“I’m not like you weak-willed types. I have a heart of steel.”

Takeru stared straight at her and said evenly:

“For the next three years, you’ll have to watch them be lovey-dovey right in front of you.”

“Watch every little touch, every whisper, every flirty glance.”

“At night, when the world is quiet and soft, the two of them will sit close and blush, trading warmth, swearing they’ll never be apart.”

“You’ll see how they look at each other. And when the excitement fades, when their needs are met and boredom creeps in — they’ll break up.”

“She’ll come to you for comfort. Just enough to get by.”

“Even when she’s with you, she’ll still think about him.”

“She’ll do all the same things she once did with him, and only you will feel any tenderness in it.”

“She’ll say bad things about her ex to keep you happy — belittle him, pretend he meant nothing. But you’ll still catch that soft smile when she remembers something good.”

“And you’ll take it. All of it. Like it’s enough.”

At first, Maki held her composure.

But the more Takeru talked, the more uncomfortable she became.

The images — the scenarios — were too vivid.

Just imagining them made her skin crawl.

Of course no one can just brush this off.

Takeru saw it clearly — her reaction mirrored what he himself had once gone through. His eyes dropped.

He understood what she was feeling.

Because when that kind of thought burrows into your brain, your own imagination becomes your worst enemy — painting the scene in exquisite detail. The expressions, the gestures, the voices — it all becomes so real, it’s unbearable.

Takeru had lived it.

He’d been raised under strict parents, barely dated in college, focused on his studies.

His first real relationship started after graduation — late.

He’d loved that girlfriend. He’d been happy.

But she… she had once loved someone else. Deeply. Painfully.

They broke up because the guy was poor.

And late at night, alone, Takeru used to wonder:

When she was with me… was it love?

Did she ever really love me?

He didn’t know. He never asked.

But just thinking about everything she’d been through before… it made his skin itch and his chest go tight.

It wasn’t anything she did wrong.

What was she supposed to do? Stay single forever?

She’d fallen for someone — and that was that.

But it still ate him alive.

He couldn’t move past it. He couldn’t let it go.

Every time it surfaced, his heart twisted like someone was wringing it out.

So he ended it.

Sometimes he wondered if there was something wrong with him.

“Why… why would you say something like that?”

Maki clutched her chest like something had cracked open inside. Tears streamed freely now — little pearls falling like they cost nothing.

“Sorry.”

Takeru looked at her, feeling a rare twinge of guilt.

He pulled out a handkerchief and gently dabbed at her tears.

But that small gesture just made her sob harder.

Her crying was loud now, ragged — the kind that echoed. Every head in the café turned.

A few people started whispering. The women, in particular, stared at Takeru like he was a walking piece of garbage.

Takeru didn’t care.

All he saw was Maki, and the tear-drenched handkerchief in his hand.

He moved slightly, intending to pull out a fresh one.

But Maki suddenly reached out and grabbed his wrist.

Her grip was surprisingly tight. He could’ve pulled away easily — but he didn’t.

He let her keep his hand there, in that quiet, fragile posture of wiping her tears.

She cried for a long time.

Eventually, maybe from exhaustion, her sobs died down. But the pain inside — the ache, the frustration, the hollow weight — didn’t.

She snatched the handkerchief from his hand.

“I’ll wash it and give it back.”

Takeru didn’t mind.

Come to think of it, that handkerchief had been a gift from Eriri.

No idea how much it cost — just knew it felt nice. That’s why he always kept it on him.

Maki shoved it into her bag. Then she looked up at him, eyes red and puffy.

“I’ve decided. I’m going to steal him back. Got any tips?”

Takeru blinked.

Wait. I signed up to be a stand-in boyfriend…

How the hell did I become her romantic tactician?!

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T/N: heh hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm ermmmmm i have no words rn

This is a fan translation of 不是说只拿我当替身的吗？by 雪碧加冰. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!