273 I Want to Wait for Miyagi - Story About Buying My Classmate Once A Week

I Want to Wait for Miyagi Chapter 273 No matter how many times I look at them, my nails are always short. Snipped so short that there's no white part left, they hold onto today, even if it's just for a little while. I wish my nails could always stay this short. After a quiet sigh, I cap the bottle of nail oil I was about to open. I set it on the table and pull the crocodile lying on the floor closer, using the bed as a backrest. My room seems so vast without Miyagi. She will probably not come by again today. She initiated it, took things that far, and even awkwardly sat through dinner with me, giving such a concerted effort. I shouldn’t ask for more. Wishing to be together longer, to sleep side by side— I swallowed those words and simply wished her good night. With another soft sigh, I glance at the nail oil on the table. It was a gift from Utsunomiya, one that stirs a hint of jealousy in Miyagi, which is why I like it. But today isn’t the day for its intended use, nor does putting it on feel quite right even if it were one I bought myself. Covering today’s memories of Miyagi with anything else feels wasteful. I pat the crocodile on the head, then gaze at my fingers. On my short nails trimmed by Miyagi, I place a gentle kiss. Raising the room’s temperature by one degree, I adjust it to what Miyagi might prefer. It's mid-March, and as it's getting warmer outside, the days of needing the air conditioner are diminishing. Still, Miyagi will likely want to make the room warmer, and I'll end up complaining about the heat. I hope for such days to continue. Even as my nails grow back to their usual length and daily life resumes as though today never happened, the mere continuation of ordinary days might bring another day like today. Next time, the day could be when I come to understand Miyagi more deeply. But it wouldn’t matter if it’s another day like today where she initiates. If there comes a day when she wants to do it and vocalizes it again... “That might be quite the challenge.” Even if she thinks it, voicing it seems unlikely. Getting Miyagi to say she “wants” it out loud feels as improbable as getting a cat to say the same. Lying down on the floor, I place the crocodile over my stomach and breathe slowly. The cut-out top I got when my blouse got wet with soda, the blouse we exchanged at the cultural festival, the pendant marking ownership, the earrings from when we entered university— The things I've received from Miyagi aren’t just “things,” they’ve become “special things.” Along with the penguin plush from the crane game; they’ve become "special things" she gave me. I traded it for the crocodile. And despite asking for it back, Miyagi never returned it. Her hand clung to the penguin tenaciously. That's so unfair. A Miyagi who doesn’t let go of my “special” thing treats me as “special.” My mind tries to interpret Miyagi’s actions that way. “It’s not wrong though.” I occupy this special place as Miyagi’s roommate. It’s right, not wrong. And yet, we’ve become more than just roommates. Miyagi would never admit it, but that’s what things between us are. For Miyagi's sake, and my own, we continue to disguise it. Sometimes, the word "roommate" almost crumbles or tries to morph into another word, but we live within that barrier, fixing it when needed to stay on course. As long as we remain within this boundary, we can interchange “special” moments as “roommate” moments. I let out a long breath and set the crocodile back on the floor. —If only "special" could be quantified. Exceeding a certain value would change something from being just roommates. If the world had such a mechanism, things would be clearer, and no courage would be necessary to change relationships. “…It might be easier to teach a cat to talk.” A world where a meter to quantify "special" exists above our heads will never come. University has three more years, and there’s no rush to change our relationship. Though there are complaints about being “roommates,” there's no real inconvenience. There's little point in pondering such trivialities. Excessive expectations invite unhappiness; I learned this. Expecting too many things from my family led me to betrayal, just as they were betrayed by expecting too much from me. It’s better not to expect too much. Standing up, I ruffle my hair, needing to cool my head a bit. Though I’m not particularly flushed, today Miyagi lingers too much within me. I switch off the air conditioner, place the crocodile on the bed, and open the door to find Miyagi standing there. “Eh?” The shared space is dark, with no lights on. Like a ghost, Miyagi looks ready to flee, but I catch her arm, reaching out with my voice. “What’s wrong? Didn’t you say you were going to sleep?” “…I was thirsty.” Murmuring what sounds like an excuse, Miyagi attempts to shake off my grip. Something feels off. Her actions don’t match her words. If she was thirsty, she should be by the fridge where drinks are kept. Her presence here seems solely to see me, so I tighten my grip on her arm, and a grumpy voice emanates from her. “Why did you come out so suddenly, Sendai-san?” “I wanted some iced tea.” Though not actually thirsty, I craved something cold to change my focus. But what's more pressing is learning why she was lingering outside my door, prompting me to ask, “Did you want to talk about something?” “…Tomorrow, it's off.” Miyagi's arm slips from my grasp. “Off?” “White Day is off.” “Does that mean nothing’s happening?” “Yes.” Before cooking the pasta, she specifically inquired about White Day plans, seemingly interested in spending the day together. Nonetheless, her mindset appears to have shifted. “What will happen after it’s off?” Nothing. That's what Miyagi should say, yet she’s silent. Instead, as though filling the void, she grasps my sweatshirt. “I’ll sleep all day tomorrow.” With those words, she pulls me towards the shadows. “Isn’t that a bit unhealthy?” “…I can't sleep now.” As she softly speaks, something warm and damp presses against my neck, and she gently nips at me. Miyagi tenderly bites into my skin, then pulls away. She presses her lips back, and sucks firmly. To the marks left on me before eating pasta, and the many placed after, a new mark is added. “Will this help you sleep?” The light from my room illuminates Miyagi standing in the dark. “I don’t know.” Miyagi has undoubtedly changed. Yet she pretends not to notice, attempting to let today pass quietly. I can't say that's wrong, but I do want something in place of a canceled White Day. “You can sleep tomorrow, but let me do what I want to do now.” Knowing she won't say "okay," I lean in without waiting for a response. I kiss her, someone retreating once again into the confines of a "roommate," and bite her lips. Miyagi's hand pushes me away. I hold that hand, firmly sucking at her neck. Once, twice. I leave marks that match those she left on me, and give her a bite. “Ow.” With a low voice, Miyagi forcefully pushes me away, so I leave one more mark and then back off. I’m sincere in wanting to wait for a day when she desires it and can say it out loud. It's not that I don’t want Miyagi to do it to me. But I can’t ignore my own urge to do it to her. It's something like a reservation. I wish to do to Miyagi what she did to me today. I’m not sure when that will be, but it's a day I want to imprint on her. “Let me cut your nails again, Miyagi.” There's no rush. It can be on a day when Miyagi feels like doing it. I might make an effort to loosen her rationality, but I want to make Miyagi and myself truly equal.