"Zenjiro-kun, listen to me," Asuka said quietly.
He did not look up from the cracked concrete. His right palm rested entirely flat against the smooth, pale skin of Asuka's left thigh. The biting chill of the afternoon wind whipped around the rusted metal doors of the old gymnasium, but his hand burned.
He felt a fierce, radiating warmth soaking straight through his shaking fingers. It was an intoxicating heat. He was starving for this exact physical contact, so he just stayed quiet and let the craving consume his rational thoughts.
Beside him, Asuka let out a slow, steady breath.
"Let's be friends again," she continued. "Just like before."
The sweet voice vanished completely. He kept his head bowed, listening to the flat, dead sound of her real voice.
The popular, polite girl from the crowded hallways was entirely gone. Only the cold, calculating smoker remained in the damp shade. She faced him with her true, unfiltered self.
Zenjiro offered no reply. He just stared blankly at a small patch of dead green weeds. His hand stayed clamped firmly against her bare leg.
"We should eat lunch together," Asuka suggested. She took another drag of her cigarette. "Just like what we usually do in our previous years. It will be much easier for both of us."
The quiet hiss of the burning paper filled the silence. He kept his jaw locked tight. The crushing weight of her previous insults still sat heavy in his stomach.
He probably couldn't form a coherent sentence even if he tried so he just absorbed the intense heat of Asuka's skin and ignored her words entirely.
A sudden, heavy pressure dropped onto the back of his right hand.
He flinched slightly. Blinking the dry dust from his eyes, he looked down at his own wrist.
Asuka had moved her left arm. She placed her open palm directly over the back of his right hand. She pushed downward. The added weight pressed his fingers much deeper into the soft flesh of her left thigh.
A violent jolt of pure electricity shot straight up his arm. The physical geometry trapped him completely. His right hand was now tightly sandwiched between the firm pressure of Asuka's palm on top and the burning, soft heat of her bare thigh underneath.
"Is it really not possible, Zenjiro-kun?" she asked softly.
He kept his mouth shut. The raw physical sensation completely short-circuited his brain. He felt the exact shape of Asuka's fingers resting over his knuckles. The intense, clamping heat overwhelmed his nervous system.
"Did you see the literature syllabus for next month?" Asuka asked casually, blowing a thin ring of smoke into the freezing wind. "The reading list is absolutely ridiculous. I don't have the time to memorize boring classical poetry."
Asuka did not wait for his response. Treating his silent, bowed head like a convenient wall, she just kept talking.
"And dealing with the guys from class 3-B is getting so exhausting lately," she complained smoothly. "Three different guys shoved sealed love letters directly into my shoe locker just this morning. I didn't even bother opening the stupid envelopes. Throwing them all straight into the trash behind the cafeteria was much faster. They are all incredibly pathetic."
Blending her perfect social life with her cold reality, she casually complained about her popularity while deliberately pressing Zenjiro's knuckles deeper into her own flesh.
Zenjiro heard her speaking, but the actual meaning of the words bounced completely off his skull. Concentrating on classical poetry or desperate boys was entirely impossible.
His universe shrank down to the exact circumference of his right hand. The fierce, burning friction of the 'sandwich' completely deafened him. He just let her voice fade into a meaningless, distant background hum.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the gray smoke curl into the damp air. Asuka dragged heavily on the thin white cigarette. She blew the toxic fumes sideways, repeating the slow motion until the paper burned down to the filter. She crushed the short butt against the concrete step.
Checking her wristwatch, she let out a long, frustrated sigh.
Less than two minutes remained before the afternoon bell would ring across the campus. The lunch break was ending.
She stared at Zenjiro's bowed head, probably assuming his stubborn silence was a permanent rejection. She thought he was just taking a free grope before walking away forever.
With a quiet rustle of her dark pleated skirt, she lifted her left hand off his knuckles. The sudden loss of downward pressure made Zenjiro's skin feel cold.
Asuka shifted her weight on the hard step, preparing to stand up and go to the classroom.
But Zenjiro did not move his arm. His right hand stayed clamped firmly against her left thigh.
Stopping her upward motion, Asuka settled back down onto the concrete. She stared at his stubborn hand.
"Ehem," she cleared her throat loudly. "Zenjiro-kun, the bell. Lunch time is almost over."
He slowly lifted his head and looked directly at her cold, serious face. Shifting his gaze downward, he stared at his own hand resting heavily on her pale lap. After a long second, he looked right back up at her dark eyes.
His body simply refused the logical command to retreat. The muscles in his right arm felt like solid lead. A dark, twisted anchor held him in place. He wanted his hand to stay permanently buried in that incredible warmth. The severe starvation from the past few weeks made him greedy.
Their eyes locked.
Asuka tilted her head slightly to the side. Confusion flickered across her rigid features.
He still did not speak a single word. They just stared at each other in the damp shade. The freezing wind blew her dark hair across her cheeks. He watched her blink once. Then twice.
A full, agonizing minute stretched between them. The heavy silence felt thick enough to cut with a knife. He mapped the exact shape of her pale face while his palm absorbed every last drop of heat from her leg.
Ding-dong, dang-dong.
A loud, piercing chime suddenly erupted from the main school building. The bell finally rang.
The sharp sound broke the strange, silent trance. Zenjiro slowly uncurled his fingers. He dragged his hand away from her warm skin, letting his arm drop heavily to his side. He kept his eyes fixed entirely on her face as he pushed himself up from the concrete stairs.
Brushing the dry dust from his uniform pants, he stood tall. Asuka watched him with a highly confused expression. She grabbed her canvas bag and stood up beside him.
They walked side by side toward the busy campus corridors. Leaving the secluded shadow of the old gymnasium behind, they stepped back into the bright afternoon sun.
A messy roar of student chatter spilled out from the open classroom windows. They reached the main building and walked through the crowded hallways.
Stopping just a few feet away from their classroom door, Asuka leaned in close.
"Let's do that again tomorrow lunch," she whispered softly.
Her breath tickled the shell of his ear, making him freeze in his tracks.
Before he could process the dangerous invitation, Asuka's entire posture completely transformed. Her rigid shoulders dropped and a bright, flawless smile spread across her face. The cold, calculating smoker vanished. The sweet, polite popular girl instantly returned to the stage.
She walked straight past him into the noisy room. Two girls near the chalkboard immediately waved at her.
Asuka waved back enthusiastically. Pausing by the front desk, she turned her head back toward the hallway and looked directly at Zenjiro.
She gave him a quick, subtle wink.
His jaw tightened. He stood completely stunned in the doorway, staring at the empty space she just left.
Hours passed. The sun sank below the horizon, plunging the city into darkness.
Inside the quiet bedroom, Zenjiro lay completely flat on his back. He stared blindly up at the pale ceiling plaster. The house was calm.
Across the narrow gap separating their beds, Liora sat cross-legged on her mattress. She wore her comfortable pink sleepwear. She hummed a catchy, upbeat pop song while neatly arranging the textbooks inside her canvas school bag. The zipper clinked softly in the quiet room.
He turned his head and watched her. For weeks, he had stayed awake deep into the night. He had desperately waited for her to cross the cold floorboards and claim his body heat. He had starved himself waiting for a ghost.
Today, he felt the heavy warmth of another girl's skin. The intense, burning sensation on his right palm still lingered.
I will never expect that she will come to my bed again, Zenjiro thought tiredly.
He rolled onto his side, turning his back to her completely. The sheer psychological exhaustion of fighting his own dark cravings was destroying his sanity. He was just a pathetic dog waiting for a scrap that might never fall.
I don't want to be mentally tortured by thinking about things that may or may not happen. I better go to sleep.
He pulled the thick blue blanket high over his shoulders. Closing his tired eyes, he let the exhaustion drag him down. That night, Zenjiro slept early for the very first time in weeks.