Rather than answer her question, I sat there listening to the laptop’s motor whir.
The moment felt somehow empty to me, like a void. I wasn’t up to thinking right now. Maybe Kurumi would come up with something. That’s what I was hoping for anyway. But after a month together, we’d come to know each other pretty well. Kurumi looked at me and frowned, like she knew exactly what I was thinking.
“Natsume, are you listening?”
“…I am. Escape plans, right?”
She glared at me, forcing me to go on.
Fine. I just have to say something to fill the silence.
“We’ve got time. I’ll think of a plan before the festival.”
“…Okay,” she said, sounding resigned, before she leaned back in her chair and sighed.
A long silence passed between us, and the mood in the room grew grim.
“…Now there’s nothing else to say,” she said accusatorily.
“…Guess not.”
I looked out the window. The sun was starting to set.
When we weren’t talking, all the ambient noises around us got louder.
Outside, there were jocks yelling, instruments tooting, voices laughing—students enjoying the lead-up to the festival. Inside the clubroom, however, the only sound was the whir of the laptop’s CD drive. This divide made it feel like the two of us were off in some other world.
“…Natsume.”
“What?”
I turned my gaze back to Kurumi. Her head was down, the brim of her hat hiding her expression.
“Natsume, can I get a kiss?”
That sure came out of nowhere. Her voice shook, like she could barely get the words out.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Our plan’s going well.”
“…Just gimme one, please.”
It occurred to me that this was the first time she’d asked. When we made out, it was usually when the mood was right. Either that, or she just pounced on me.
What was going on? It felt like she was asking for something else and simply calling it a kiss.
“You won’t kiss me anymore?”
“…I didn’t say that.”
I hesitated a second, then did what she’d asked. I swear my motives had nothing to do with lust. All I felt was obligation—a negative emotion almost akin to guilt.
I got up and leaned across the table.
“…Kurumi.”
I brushed her black and ash-gray hair behind her ear to get it out of the way.
The evening light from the window revealed her face. That mean smile was gone. Her lips were pressed together, and her eyes appeared to be focused somewhere else—some place I couldn’t see. The only words that came to mind to describe her were negative: despondent, bereft, miserable, sorrowful.
It reminded me of the sad look in her eyes when I’d run into her on that shopping trip, just as she’d left. If she was looking like this, if she was this downcast…she must be feeling the same way I did.
I didn’t want to see her like this. I put my hand on her chin and tilted it up. Then I stole her lips.
“Natsume… Mmph…”
She’d waited for me to start it, but the moment the kiss began, her arms encircled my waist, and she pulled me in. Her mouth fell open, her soft tongue and lips wet with spit.
“Slurp… Natsu… Smooch…”
Kurumi’s tongue slipped all the way in, moving forcefully, like it had a mind of its own. Polishing my gums, marking her territory, claiming dominance.
Our breath mingled, syrupy and bitter, and our foreheads thumped together. Her hat fell to the floor.
The kiss was rough, no time to breathe, like we were trying to reach all the way into each other. This wasn’t some beautiful moment like you see in a girls’ romance manga—this was a junk food kiss, a craving.
“Gasp! Kurumi, I can’t breathe…”
“Mmph… Shut up… Natsume… Don’t say a word…”
Her arms tightened around me, and I stayed perfectly still, not getting in her way.
“Gasp! Mmph… Slurp… Smack…”
Wet noises filled the room. How long had it been since my windpipe was sealed? She was really going for it today. I always got short of breath when we kissed. And as I ran out of air—maybe my brain stopped working right. The strangest things occurred to me.
Like…were we really French kissing?
We called it a rebellion against our school, an illicit thrill, a way to relieve stress. We were making out to distract ourselves from the harsh reality—but could you really call something like that a kiss? This wasn’t anything so sweet as that. Was there a better name for what we were doing? Something suitably nasty and dark. A unique name—one only Kurumi and I were allowed to use. This absurd chain of thought took over my mind.
“Mmph… Gasp! Natsume… Hahh…hahh… Cough…”
“Gasp! Hahh… Cough, cough, cough.”
When we finally let go, both our legs were unsteady, and we collapsed back into our chairs. We were wheezing, spluttering, catching our breaths. That was one of the roughest, longest kisses we’d ever shared—it had nearly killed me.
…Had that been enough for her?
I shook my head, blinked a few times, and got my eyes to focus again. Then I sat back up and looked over at her. Kurumi’s hair was mussed, a sad smile on her face.
“…I guess you can’t read someone’s mind through a kiss.”
Huh? Was that what she was really after?
She gave me a long look, then said, “Come on, Natsume. Lay it on me.”
Lay what on her? I had no idea what she wanted. The prompt was so broad.