"Kyouko?"
"Hmm?" she murmured, still curled against his chest, her fingers lazily tracing circles over his skin.
Haruki hesitated.
"…Can you…"
She lifted her head slightly, eyes narrowing playfully. "What~?"
His lips parted… but nothing came out.
He didn't know how to say it.
Didn't know why it even bothered him so much.
Maybe it was nothing.
Maybe it was stupid.
But every time he pictured her outside—wearing that tight outfit again, her leggings clinging to her thighs, that sleeveless top showing just a peek of cleavage, her smooth skin glowing in the sunlight—it made something burn quietly inside him.
She was beautiful.
Too beautiful.
And even though he didn't know if anyone had looked at her like that today… he couldn't stop imagining it.
A stranger glancing too long at her legs.
A passing man noticing the curve of her waist.
Someone, anyone, seeing what should only be his.
He said nothing.
Just stared at the ceiling.
But Kyouko… felt it.
