𝙎𝘾𝘼𝙍𝙍𝙀𝘿 𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙍𝘼𝙂𝙀 - 𝚔𝚒𝚢𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚒 𝚜𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚜𝚊

ix. repeating path called orbit

"I have my bicycle as well. I don't see that as a problem," he answered. "Not to mention that cycling is a good warm-up for the morning practice."

Uwah . . . Kiyoomi's defending . . !

"Okay–" I nodded– "let's say, we'll go arrive at school together, so what if you'd go home late? What will you do?"

He was quick to reply, "You have to pick me up by then."

"That's . . ." I trailed, "I can't say."

He looked down, rubbing the leather strap of his wristwatch. "You should accept my offer."

"Should I?" I reacted defensively at the echoing of what he insisting. "Perhaps I have a good reason that I shouldn't."

He went quiet, not looking away from but with that distance once again surfacing in his gaze. It emboldened me to add, "You cannot just barge in, Yoomi-kun. Like what I told you: I'm in the legal age already. And in this society, it's considered a crime to let you in."

His tone was measured. "Would people even care?"

"Of course–" I dismally rolled my eyes– "because society is a ridiculously, utter shit. If you do such a thing, and they happened to know, society will make you suffer for it, you'll be ostracized by it."

Silence after silence, he seemed as though grappled with my words, taken aback by the gravity of the words.

I happened to feel sorry for him. But I'd feel more sorry if his stand in this society would be ruined.

It was enough for him to be ignorant about how this world operated.

He lowered his gaze. In the growing shadows of the unit, his eyes seemed immense in his drawn face. "You must have viewed me as a desperate person, right?"

I made a very unpleasant look on my face. "I don't . . . At the very least."

That was an honest word. I didn't see him that desperate.

He never replied. It ruptured me, that subtle creasing of his eyebrows—so stoic and resigned, like when he faced the hundreds of thousands of eye-destroying bacteria which infesting the public restrooms.

How dare him to contrast me to a bacteria . . .

"Are you really that fully resolved to move out?"

"I wouldn't waste a whole damn seventeen minutes talking to you if I didn't." He regarded me with unsettling candor.

I scrunched up my face. "That's why I'm telling you: that's against the Law. And you're not prepared for the soc—"

"Shut the fuck up."

"—iety . . ." I stared at him, speechless for one of the few times in my life.

"Shut the fuck up." His voice lifted as he repeated. Then stopped, took a calming breath. "Forget about the rules. Forget society. Just think . . . Think about me."

Suddenly I found myself short of the air; I almost flinched at the sound of him.

"Y-You . . ." I had an impression of doubt. "You did research that, didn't you?"

"I didn't." Embarrassment colored his voice once being mindful of his words.

I only sighed aggravatingly. My conscientious, pesky royal jerk-face, who'd never paid attention to the world outside besides volleyball, was—as usual—talking like a tyrant.

"I hate you, you know?" I said with a modulated voice and emotionless visage.

"I know."

"Fifteen days, Kiyoomi." I sounded dismissingly, imbued with forbearance. "Do something with your stalker in fifteen days. There will be no extension, mind you."