"Hey, Kurume," Miyako called out to me at the locker room, "you're not in a hurry, are you?"
I turned around.
She was standing with a backpack on one shoulder, slouching slightly, unusually insecure.
"Not really. Why?
—Then... shall we go together?"
"Where to?"
"Well... just going home." Together. Or to the park. If you want. I... haven't been out for a long time.
An awkward silence.
And then I nodded.
— good.
We walked side by side. Not too close, but not too far either.
At first they were silent.
Then we talked —first about lessons, then about movies, then about things unrelated to school.
And suddenly it became easy. Very easy.
—You know," she said, —you're good. Even when you're silent.
"Is that a compliment?"
- yes. It's just... you don't make me pretend. It's rare.
I didn't say anything, but my chest felt warm.
We sat down on a bench in the park.
Miyako took out a bottle of water and two candies.
"Want some?"
- thanks.
"I used to think you were arrogant." Quiet, cold. And then it turned out... you just don't mind other people's business. That's probably even better.
"I thought you were going to be a snob." An excellent student who doesn't care about anyone.
—Well... you're partly right,— she chuckled.
We exchanged glances.
And at that moment, the wind blew.
Cold, unexpected.
Miyako flinched, and before I could think, I took off my jacket and threw it over her shoulders.
—Hey..." she looked surprised. "You'll freeze yourself."
"You were shaking harder."
Silence.
Then she smiled a little, just a little.
"I like that version of you."
I said nothing. Not because I didn't know what to say, but because I was afraid to say too much.
When we broke up
"Thanks for the day,— she said. — It was really good.
- yes. Me too.
She was standing on the step above, and therefore her gaze was almost on the same level as mine.
"See you tomorrow, Kurume."
"See you tomorrow, Miyako."
And somewhere in the school, Sayo was standing looking at them from the window.
Quietly.
With a completely calm face.
But her fingers were gripping the edge of the windowsill a little too tightly.