Her voice was so quiet that it took Miyahito a few extra seconds to process.
Oh. She wanted him to let go.
But wait, when did he actually hold her? He had no reason to do something so rude, right?
Mind full of question marks, Miyahito slowly lowered his gaze. It fell naturally on his own chest... and on Utaha, who was leaning against it.
"!"
Snapping awake as if electrocuted, Miyahito instantly let go. He scrambled to his feet, stumbling backward several steps in a blink. Facing Utaha, who kept her head down and looked almost angry, he stammered,
"I th-this.. you.. I... you...."
The more frantically he tried to explain, the less coherent he became.
Eventually, flailing his arms with nowhere to put them, he gave up. Like a scolded elementary student, he lowered his head and stood frozen in awkward silence.
Utaha, in front of him, also kept her head down, saying nothing. A thick atmosphere of "neither of us is speaking" settled over the rooftop.
After a tense moment of mutual silence.
I can't take it anymore. I'm about to bail.
The awkwardness was suffocating; Miyahito's restless toes were practically carving out a three-bedroom apartment in the concrete. The urge to flee was overwhelming. But every time he took a step, another voice in his head stopped him.
You did something so rude, and you just want to run away?
Should he run or stay? Sure, he only did it out of panic. But regardless, he hadn't actually done anything wrong, right? Just as he was torn between fearing he'd ruined his image in her eyes and being unable to bear the heavy atmosphere, his heart hanging in limbo...
"Th-thank you, Aragaki... Aragaki-kun."
While softly thanking him, Utaha slowly lifted her face, the blush having slightly faded.
However, still trapped in her girlish shyness and unable to meet his eyes directly, she didn't realize...
The moment her delicate, expressive face—tinged with a youthful, innocent embarrassment—reflected in Miyahito's eyes, his entire attention was captivated.
A few more seconds passed.
Getting no response, Utaha instinctively pushed down her racing thoughts, forced herself to look at him, and called out softly.
"Aragaki-kun."
"Ah, y-yeah."
Though a beat late, Miyahito finally snapped out of his daze. Realizing he'd just been staring blankly at her face, a flush of embarrassment crept up his fair skin. Awkwardly tearing his reluctant gaze away, he stammered,
"I-it's really fine, Kasumigaoka-san."
"Um...."
Feeling too shy to say what came next, Utaha lowered her head again, speaking very quietly.
"J-just call me Kasumigaoka... you d-don't need the honorific."
".... Yeah. Kasumigaoka."
For some reason—maybe because his heart was pounding too fast and blood was rushing through his veins—Miyahito didn't suffer from the typical anime protagonist's selective hearing. He heard her perfectly.
But the moment he complied and called her "Kasumigaoka," Utaha, who hadn't even fully lifted her head, buried it even deeper. She was practically trying to hide her face in her own chest.
Seeing this, Miyahito's thoughts were a tangled mess. He turned his face away, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.
Better not leave just yet.
Telling himself that, he turned back and walked stiffly to his original spot, slowly sitting down.
The moment he sat down, a realization hit him.
First, the sports drink he gave her was from his own seat. So, it was his.
Second, he'd bought it from the vending machine during third-period break.
Third, during fourth period, he'd already opened it and taken a drink.
So.....
His breath hitched for a second. Slowly, he turned his head to look at Utaha, who was taking small sips from the bottle's opening.
Silently turning back, he picked up his half-eaten bread without a word. Slowly, chewing thoroughly, he finished his lunch.
...
In the early summer heat, before temperatures reached unbearable levels, the boy and girl who had just weathered a minor incident didn't immediately leave the rooftop after finishing their lunches.
Almost unconsciously, they ended up sitting at opposite ends of the same bench, sharing the shade of the parasol, each absorbed in their own world.
As a writer, Utaha was quietly reading a novel resting on her lap, the only sound being the occasional rustle of turning pages.
As for Miyahito, he put an earphone in his right ear, listening to an instrumental track while calmly jotting down notes and sketches in a notebook.
To an outsider, this boy and girl seemed completely disconnected, lost in their separate worlds.
In reality, their hearts were far from calm.
Just now, Aragaki-kun really seemed panicked.
Replaying the scene in her mind, Utaha felt an indescribable emotion well up inside.
Sure, choking on bread was embarrassing and uncomfortable. But for her, seeing Miyahito—who usually kept a polite, distant demeanor around girls—show such genuine concern was more than enough.
It's just that she couldn't quite pinpoint what this churning feeling inside her actually was.
True, she was a light novel author, specifically writing romance novels. Logically, she should know what this sweet yet heavy, reassuring sensation meant.
But in reality, Utaha knew full well that her knowledge was purely theoretical. And theory didn't equal practice.
Utaha was precisely that kind of girl: rich in theory, severely lacking in practical experience. After all, during the age when most girls first experience budding romance, her heart had only belonged to herself.
If this is what it means to like someone... Utaha silently thought, her right hand unconsciously rising to rest lightly over her heart.
Then when did I start liking Aragaki-kun?
And why do I like him?
Liking someone requires a reason... "Love at first sight" shouldn't happen to someone like me, right?
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