Story About Buying My Classmate Once A Week

Chapter 60: What Miyagi, who is not my friend, does — 60

Chapter 60: What Miyagi, who is not my friend, does — 60

Translated by KaiesV

Edited by KaiesV

Even though it was evening, the light coming in through the window was bright.

Even without turning around, one can see that the sun is illuminating the city with a heat that is close to noon.

?Don’t you have to close the curtains??

It is trivial to say that the curtains are open or closed, and it is hard to believe that anyone is staring at a room in an apartment. But today, such trivial things are bothering me.

?Just shut up.?

Miyagi says tediously and gets down on one knee on the bed. Then, closing the curtains and brightening one light in the room, she stood in front of me, using the bed as a chair.

Miyagi’s hand touches my hair as I inevitably look up at her. After combing through my hair, which was neither braided nor tied up, Miyagi, who looked unsure of herself, pursed her lips.

I don’t think I understand this kind of thing.

Last time she came close to my face as a matter of course, but today she seems hesitant to approach me. It’s funny that even though she forcefully gave me 5,000 yen and got her ready to kiss me, she still acts simpering like it’s the first time she’s kissed me.

?Close your eyes now.?

I’m wildly told that I’m looking at Miyagi, who is as bold as a stray cat wandering around in front of her house. Still not closing my eyes, Miyagi covered my eyes with her palm. The bright room darkens all at once, and a soft touch falls on my lips.

No different than yesterday.

Slightly dry lips gently touch and quickly leave along with a hand covering my eyes.

Our lips touched each other for a really short time, and the only thing I can remember is a fluffy feeling like cream puffs.

I kissed Miyagi a few times, but she only kissed me to the touch. To begin with, she doesn’t like it when I try to do more than that. And yet, she looks at me like I’m not enough. It’s the same now.

?Miyagi.?

When I call her name and reach out your hand, she commands me to do so before I touch her.

?Just sit there.?

Saying so, Miyagi sits down next to me. But she doesn’t run away without such an order.

?I’m fine sitting down, but what are you doing??

The question I asked was never answered, but instead I was touched on the thigh as if in return.

I shouldn’t have worn shorts.

The fingertips gently moving, I regret that I should have chosen different clothes.

The hand gliding over my skin was not something that made me feel any deeper meaning. It is similar to the clerical touch that a doctor might give to a patient. Yet, when touched, the consciousness turns toward the hand.

It’s somewhere between disgusting and ticklish.

That’s how my brain perceives the sensations Miyagi’s hands give me.

Her hands go down my thighs to my knees.

I caught Miyagi’s hand as she continued to touch me without restraint.

?I told you not to move, didn’t I??

I hear a voice that is emotionless and my hand is brushed off.

?I can’t, it tickles too much.?

When I told her why I did not follow orders, Miyagi raised her eyebrows.

She looked at me in discontent, then patted my knee.

I knew it, feeling both uncomfortable and ticklish, I grabbed Miyagi’s wrist. But perhaps not liking that, Miyagi untied my hand and closed the distance at once. Thanks to this, I could not close my eyes and feel her lips on mine.

A hand grabs my hip bone.

I cringe and close my eyes, the feeling of pressed lips becomes more vivid. The connection is so hot that it almost melts me and makes me want to let go of reason.

Whether these orders are good or bad, I have no complaints about kissing. However, I think being kissed is one of my least favorite parts.

Kissing makes me want to touch Miyagi more when I am kissing her than when she’s kissing me, and I feel like I am doing something wrong. It doesn’t change how good I feel, but I feel somewhat unsettled.

I squeeze Miyagi’s arm, and our lips part. I followed it and pulled my face close to it, and Miyagi covered my mouth with the palm of her hand.

?Don’t try to take advantage of me.?

I ask, slipping and peeling her hand.

?Can I ask you one question??

?Don’t.?

?Why do you want to kiss me??

Ignoring Miyagi’s immediate response, I asked.

?I said I don’t want to.?

A low voice comes back, apparently not intending to answer. But after a short pause, a small voice added, as if to say, “It goes without saying.”

?If you don’t want to kissed, just run away.?

?I can’t escape because Miyagi gives the orders.?

?You mean you don’t want to do that??

?You think so??

?It was Sendai-san who said you shouldn’t answer a question with a question, right??

?Then, answer. Don’t tell me what to do, just kiss me.?

?You want me to try it myself to see the answer??

?Something like that.?

I know.

At times like this, Miyagi definitely runs away.

That’s why she never kisses me.

?Make me something for dinner.?

Sure enough, Miyagi blurted out to deflect the conversation.

I think she knows the answer, but she have no spirit.

?Can we kiss??

?I’m hungry.?

?I think it’s still a little early for dinner.?

I tried to catch Miyagi, who kept deflecting the conversation, but she stood up as if to run away from me.

?Why don’t you just go faster??

Assuredly, Miyagi leaves the room. Then I would have no choice but to head to the kitchen and work on checking the contents of the refrigerator.

?You only have eggs, though.?

I open the refrigerator and call out to Miyagi, who is sitting at the counter table.

.

?It’s okay, it’s not empty, right??

?I mean, what does Miyagi eat every day??

?Like the one I serve to Sendai-san at night.?

?…I know.?

The fridge, which I have opened several times in the past, had very little food in it, and I don’t believe that was a fluke. When I go home for dinner at this house, she serves me something that doesn’t require much effort, like retort-packed food or frozen food. Besides, Miyagi is not a good cook. She has no desire to get better.

Although I could see glimpses of an unhealthy diet, so far I had not seen a Miyagi that looked sick. I don’t know if she will remain healthy in the future, but that is not a matter for me to interject. Occasionally, I’d be willing to at least cook, but Miyagi didn’t often want to do that, as she did today.

I choose an omelette from my not-so-large repertoire, taking into account the contents of her refrigerator and the fact that I have made omelettes in the past.

Heat a frying pan and oil it.

I wish I had the ingredients, but I can’t help what I don’t have. Maturely, I fry only rice with ketchup from the refrigerator.

For the eggs, make an omelette with the dying butter I used when I made French toast and put it on top of the ketchup rice. However, the omelette seemed to be overcooked, and the eggs did not start to melt even when I cut a slit in it with a knife as it should have.

It’s all the same once it’s in her stomach, so it’s okay.

After saying to Miyagi, who is looking at the kitchen over the counter table,?It’s ready,?I carry the plate and spoon.

I sit down next to her, even though it seems a little early for dinner. The sound of the spoon hitting the plate with a clink echoes through the room as the words?Itadakimasu?are said over and over again. I took a bite or two of the omelette, and after eating about a third of it, I looked next to me.

?Miyagi’s house is always empty, but when do your parents come home??

Not to overstep the mark, I ask one of the things I was wondering about.

?He hasn’t come home yet.?

A small voice responds with a subtle, off-beat answer.

The fact that she didn’t tell me before means she didn’t want to be asked, so I simply said,?I see,?and we cut the conversation short.

If she doesn’t want to answer, I’m not going to pursue it further.

I just had a brief desire to know when it was time to end those nights when she was afraid to be alone and think there might be something there.

Scooping a spoonful of badly made omelette rice.

I don’t expect it to satisfy my little interest.

I watched Miyagi eat her omelette in silence before bringing the spoon to her mouth.