We were nestled together on the rooftop, close enough to the sky that the horizon looked reachable with a single leap. Mochizuki Haruka gazed dreamily out—her expression lost sowhere between bliss and disbelief.
Shopping for couple outfits, feeding each other teppanyaki, basking in the sumr sun, sharing overpriced milk tea and donuts with —her "handso classmate."
All ordinary details, except for her. For her, this was once a girlhood fantasy—a parallel universe she never thought she'd enter.
Now the dream was real, breathing and laughing at her side.
Every weekend date with seed only to deepen her happiness and, at the sa ti, a little uncertainty.
"Is this a dream?"
She started whispering, more to herself than anyone else.
"Is this a dream…?"
Her voice, so soft and repetitive, made smile.
I couldn't help but reach over, pinching her cheeks between my fingers with gentle affection, kneading them until she blinked in surprise.
"See? Not a dream, right?"
"Uh-huh…"
She giggled, the dazed look fading just a bit, replaced by a shy and satisfyingly real smile.
"Uh-huh…"
She giggled, the dazed look fading just a bit, replaced by a shy and satisfyingly real smile.
But then, like a kid hoping for more magic, Haruka tilted her sweet face up toward . "Um… Ginjo-san, can you pinch again? Just once more—I'm still not sure…"
My heart stuttered.
Her eyes, impossibly big and shining, looked up at without a trace of doubt, asking, pleading. Her cheeks, pale and soft as a cloud, blushed pink from our sunlit adventure.
I gave in, reaching out to touch her again.
First a gentle poke—feeling her skin's softness, smoother than any dream could conjure. Then, unconsciously, my palm trailed across her jawline, brushing stray hair behind her ear, fingertips tracing her delicate earlobe.
Her breathing changed: soft, quick, sothing between a sigh and an accidental moan.
My curiosity went wild—could her ears really be that sensitive?
Another slow stroke along her ear, and— "Yeah…"—her barely audible voice deepened the mont's intimacy.
She leaned into my arm, her body going slack, trying to keep quiet but a gentle sound still spilled out. Her shy bud-like smile lted into sothing more mature, a new look in her gentle gaze—a mixture of longing and confidence that made all my thoughts scatter.
Suddenly, I was aware of the heat in my own chest, the sparks running down my spine. Her eyes t mine, and I saw the sa need reflected there.
Guided by instinct, I encircled her shoulders and leaned close.
She looked into my eyes, smiled, and closed hers—a silent invitation.
I didn't hesitate. Our lips t softly—one heartbeat, then another, and another.
I don't think I'll ever get tired of seeing Haruka's face after a kiss—especially one as unexpectedly passionate as our rooftop rendezvous. Her cheeks flushed, lips still tingling, she looked like she'd just returned from another planet, hands fiddling with her hair in unmistakable joy and shy panic.
She leaned into , totally lost in sensation, until it suddenly registered:
"Ah!"
A soft yelp escaped her lips.
Reality check—broad daylight, open rooftop, families everywhere, and we'd just locked lips with all the abandon of drama leads in the middle of a crowded plaza.
Haruka shot a panicked glance around—kids playing at the fountains, people on benches, the band still crooning away at the public stage.
No one had noticed.
Her shoulders slumped in relief.
Thank goodness. If anyone had seen—actually, if anyone even whispers about this, she'll die of embarrassnt on the spot.
She finally looked back up at , eyes wide.
"We… kind of forgot ourselves a little…"
I grinned, not feeling even a hint of sha. "I noticed. Next ti, maybe let's go for sowhere a bit less… cinematic?"
She giggled, cheeks hot.
"Y-yeah… Next ti, sowhere quieter would be… um… nice…"
She's already thinking about next ti. The girl's too cute for her own good.
But a mont later, restless and embarrassed, she sprang to her feet.
"Cinema, Ginjo-san! Let's go!" she stamred, grabbing my hand and making a beeline for the exit—her running form practically radiating number-one-in-class anxiety.
I couldn't help smiling as she tugged along. Her focus on escape was so intense, she nearly ran past two kids at the fountain—just as they let loose a wild splash that arced, perilously close, toward us.
Good timing, Sousuke! Or else she'd be a drowned cat with the world's fluffiest hair.
I dove in, hugged Haruka tight, and yanked her to safety.
"You okay, Mochizuki-san?"
She blinked, startled but dry.
"Y-yeah… close call. Thanks, Ginjo-san."
We waved off the frantic apologies from the kids' parents and hurried inside—luck narrowly on our side.
Or so I thought.
At the cinema ticket kiosk: SOLD OUT.
Not a single seat left for the blockbuster romance we'd set our hearts on.
Haruka's shoulders slumped again—a look sowhere between devastation and existential crisis.
Is this fate, or just harem cody luck? Why do movies always go wrong? At this rate, we should just give up and watch YouTube together.
"I thought romance movies were out of fashion…" she muttered, voice faint.
We checked the schedule—the next showing was a whole two hours away.
I pulled out my phone, logged in, and snagged seats for the next available ti.
"It's fine. Look, we can still see it today. Now we have extra ti—more chances to hang out, right?"
Her eyes cleared, a smile creeping back.
"You're always so calm, Ginjo-san. Older, wiser… shouldn't that be my job?"
I reached out, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Maybe that ans I'm learning from you. Let's go make the most of our bonus ti—see what else we can get up to before the credits roll."
--
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