She started walking deliberately, and I just followed, our pace carrying us through the hallways and past other students. We slipped out of the building, and I realized she was heading toward… the back of the school building?
The further we went, the quieter it got. No students, no chatter, just the faint hum of cicadas outside the fence. My footsteps echoed against the concrete, and with every step, I couldn't help but wonder—why here of all places?
Eventually, we stopped in front of what looked like an old, abandoned janitor's room—or at least that's what people said it was. The door had a faded cleaning logo on it, half peeled off, like a relic from forever ago.
How did she even find this spot in the first place? The thought keeping at me, but I kept it to myself. I hesitated, the silence stretching, until finally I couldn't hold it in anymore.
"Aranami… don't you think we're going a bit too far? Break time's only thirty minutes, you know."
"S-sorry… I didn't think about that. We'll just eat fast…" she murmured, eyes darting away as her fingers fidgeted with the strap of her bag.
She didn't really sound sorry, though. More like… shy. Nervous. Her shoulders hunched slightly, and she bit her lip as if unsure whether I'd be annoyed. Almost like she was second-guessing herself—but still, for some reason, wanted me here anyway.
Suddenly, she turned toward the door, her movements quick and almost frantic. She pushed it open just enough to peek inside.
The hinges groaned with a long, sharp creak that scratched at my ears, cutting through the silence of the empty back lot.
I winced slightly at the sound, glancing around instinctively as if someone might've heard it, even though there was nobody else around. Meanwhile, she just stood there, holding the door halfway open, her small frame almost swallowed by the dim shadow spilling out from inside.
I squinted at the doorway, the faint smell of dust and rust already leaking out. The place looked dark, unused, and honestly kind of gross.
My brow furrowed as I glanced at her. "Wait… are we gonna eat inside there?"
Aranami froze, her hand still resting on the door. For a moment, she looked like she'd been caught doing something bad. Her shoulders stiffened, and she peeked at me through her oversized glasses, her lips parting slightly before pressing into a thin line.
"I-I mean…" she stammered, voice so soft I almost missed it. "It's not… that dirty inside. I-I checked before. It's quiet here, so… I thought it'd be… better."
Her words tumbled out awkwardly, her cheeks turning faintly pink as if she knew how weird this sounded. She tightened her grip on the strap of her bag, avoiding my eyes.
It wasn't embarrassment exactly—it was more like… she was nervous I'd hate the idea, but still wanted me to say yes.
"Okay then… if you say so. Let's just leave the door open, 'kay?" I said hesitantly before stepping in after her.
To my surprise, she was right—it wasn't as bad as I thought. Sure, the place was old, but not filthy. Grass had pushed its way through cracks in the floor, tiny patches of green softening the worn concrete. Light filtered in through the broken windows, spilling across the room in scattered beams. Dust floated lazily in the air, glowing whenever it caught the sunlight.
It was quiet—peaceful, even.
She set her bag down with a soft thump and lowered herself onto the patch of grass that had claimed the floor. Kneeling there, she unzipped her bag, carefully pulling out a small bento box she must've packed that morning.
Ohh, I could already smell it the moment she cracked it open. My stomach growled louder than I expected, and I winced a little. Of course I hadn't eaten breakfast because I rushed out just to meet her.
She turned around to face me, lifting the lid so I could see inside her bento box. Fried rice—healthy-looking too, loaded with colorful vegetables—alongside golden shrimp, a couple of juicy pork chops, and even corn tucked in neatly on the side.
Damn. How did she even manage to whip this up in the morning?
But even as she showed me the food, she looked uneasy, shifting in place, her hands a little too fidgety.
"I… I forgot to bring extra spoons," she murmured, eyes flicking away. "S-so… can we just share mine?"
My brain froze. Share… a spoon? With her? That's basically… an indirect kiss, right?! My throat went dry as the thought sank in. She wasn't even looking at me now, clearly embarrassed, but still—she asked.
I scratched the back of my neck, trying not to let the heat crawl up my face. "U-uh, y-yeah… I guess that's fine."
She nodded, letting out a tiny breath of relief, like she'd been holding it the whole time. Then, without a word, she scooped up a portion of the fried rice with her spoon.
But instead of turning it toward herself… she lifted it straight up to my mouth.
Wait—what?!
My brain short-circuited. I knew we were going to share, but… is she feeding me? Like, actually feeding me? My mouth went dry, and I just stared at her, frozen.
Her hand trembled slightly, cheeks pink as she avoided my eyes. "O-open up…" she whispered.
Before I even realized what I was doing, my mouth just… opened. Pure reflex.
She slipped the spoon between my lips, and I tasted the warm, savory fried rice. The shrimp and vegetables hit my tongue, but honestly, I barely noticed the flavor—my brain was too busy screaming.
She just fed me.
Her hand lingered a second too long before pulling the spoon back, her face turning redder than the pork chops in the box. She bit her lip, clearly flustered, while I sat there, trying not to choke on the food.
"G-good?" she asked quietly, still not looking me in the eye.
But then it hit me—the flavor.
The taste burst across my tongue like heaven itself. Way better than anything I'd ever cooked for myself… or even for my sister. The fried rice was perfectly seasoned, the shrimp tender, the vegetables adding just the right crunch.
I froze mid-chew, staring at the bento like it held some kind of secret. How the hell did she manage this?
It wasn't just food. It felt like… care. Every bite carried effort, time, and something I couldn't quite name.
Meanwhile, she was staring at me nervously, waiting for a reaction, her fingers fidgeting on the lid of the box.
"It's good… it's delicious, Aranami," I said, trying to play it cool, even though the flavors were still dancing all over my tongue like they owned me.
But then, right in front of my very eyes, she scooped up another spoonful—and without a shred of hesitation—she popped it straight into her own mouth.
I blinked. Wait. Did she just…?
We're actually… sharing the same spoon.
My brain short-circuited for a second time, my stomach twisting for reasons that had nothing to do with hunger.
Then it hit me—if she thinks this is normal, then I shouldn't be freaking out like some middle-schooler.
Play it cool. Play it cool, Reui.
I forced my shoulders to relax, pretending like sharing a spoon with a girl wasn't slowly frying my brain cells. "Y-yeah… good stuff," I muttered, as if I wasn't hyper-aware of the fact her lips just touched the same spoon that was in my mouth five seconds ago.
She didn't seem bothered at all, just quietly chewing, her expression soft and calm. Meanwhile, I was dying inside trying to act like it was the most casual thing in the world.
And so it went—one spoon for me, then one for her. Back and forth, like some silent rhythm only the two of us were following. The spoon would touch my lips, then hers, then mine again. Each time it happened, my chest tightened just a little, like I was stuck in some cliché romance scene I'd only seen in manga.
By the time the bento was half gone, I realized I wasn't even tasting the food anymore. All I could notice was the soft, almost invisible blush on her cheeks as she avoided my eyes, and the faint warmth lingering on the spoon each time it returned to me.
It was ridiculous… but also kind of addicting.
The bento finally sat empty in her hands, and she set it gently on the floor. My stomach felt warm, heavy, and more satisfied than it had in weeks. Damn… that hit the spot.
Aranami reached into her bag again, pulling out a small pack of tissues. Without a word, she tore one free and handed it to me, her fingers brushing mine for just a second.
"Here…" she said softly, almost too quiet to hear.
I blinked, caught off guard, then awkwardly accepted it. "Ah.. thanks."
She reached back into her bag again, this time pulling out a half-full bottle of water. Without hesitation, she held it out to me, her eyes flicking away as if the gesture was nothing special.
"Here… you should drink too," she murmured.
I took it, the cool plastic brushing against my palm, and unscrewed the cap. While I took a sip, she quietly wiped her hands clean with the tissue, movements neat and careful.
Out of habit, I pulled my phone from my pocket and glanced at the screen.
10 minutes left 'til class starts again.
My chest sank a little. So much for taking it slow.
Her voice cracked softly, the words tumbling out as if she had to push them past her lips.
"R-Reui-san… do you think we should… uhm…"
She trailed off, clutching the empty bento box to her lap, her eyes darting between me and the floor. That shy, nervous tone—it was different from before, heavier, like she was working up the courage to say something important.