377 - Story About Buying My Classmate Once A Week

**Chapter 377** I can only speculate about what Sendai-san truly wanted to do. Without asking her, I let her go, leaving me uncertain of her feelings—whether she didn't want to leave at all, or if she would have gone regardless of my prompting. I wait for Sendai-san without understanding anything. Seated on the same floor where we were watching a movie, I gaze at the key case in my palm. Inside the cat-embossed key case is the key to this house, identical to the key I gave to Sendai-san. Until I received the key case, I hadn't given it much thought, but the keys are something we share, tethering us to this place. Without them, we wouldn't be able to remain in the same space. I grip the key case tightly. This house is the only place where Sendai-san should return to, and she's never failed to come back. She's never lost her key either. As long as the key case protects it, that shouldn't change. I lean against the bed and look at the table. The tablet we used to watch movies catches my eye, prompting me to turn off the power to prevent unexpected zombie sounds. I place the screen face down on the table, then cover it with the black cat plushie from the bookshelf, sealing everything away. The zombies must be kept locked inside the tablet. "Take care of it," I murmur. The cat won't respond with a "meow," but the moon necklace around its neck glints. — I shouldn't have watched that horror movie. I was complacent, assuming Sendai-san would be beside me until morning. In the past, I'd have anticipated such unforeseen circumstances and avoided watching horror movies entirely. Fear gnaws at the psyche, conjuring nonexistent illusions. Moments after watching, that night, and the next day... Even as time passes, there are occasional moments when one senses the presence of something that exists only on the screen, or glimpses a shadow. These unexpected reminders keep lingering fear bubbling within me, rendering even bright places unsettling. It's been less than an hour since Sendai-san left the house, yet I sense something that shouldn't be there behind me. I hate this. I glance at the phone that rests where Sendai-san sat. No messages or calls. Hunching my shoulders, I clutch the key case while hugging my knees. Why did Sendai-san's sister have to catch a cold at a time like this? "It's scary," I whisper, looking at the black cat. Sendai-san rarely talks about her family, so I know nothing about her sister. Is she similar to Sendai-san, who confines herself to bed when sick? If I knew, I could imagine how ill her sister is, and predict when Sendai-san might return. For now, I know nothing—not even where her sister lives. Sendai-san said she'd return as soon as she could, but didn't specify a time. I wish to believe she won't stay out until late at night, but if Sendai-san's sister gets sick like her, she might not be home until morning. I exhale deeply. I berate myself for not asking about anything despite my desire to know more about Sendai-san. There'd been ample time to inquire about her sister before today. Yet that's all it is—a thought. Considering my own situation, asking isn't easy. When you ask someone about themselves, you must be prepared to answer similar questions. I'm not ready for that. Surely, I wouldn't be able to answer if asked about my mother. Because I'd prefer to leave buried memories undisturbed. Mom spoke fondly of Dad and was always kind. During many nights when Dad was away, she was always there for me. Sharing such stories with someone means recalling memories of Mom, which also involves remembering things better left forgotten. If Mom were truly kind, she'd always have come home. She wouldn't leave my elementary school self crying alone in a big empty house without comforting me. I would have to go through the process of accepting these facts that I don't want to acknowledge. It's better not to speak of such trivial matters. I tightly grip the key case. Mom often cried, but more than anything, I wish not to recall how I cried even more than she did. I'd rather remember other things. Sendai-san talking about winter vacation since the morning. Sendai-san earnestly researching our day-trip plans on her phone. Sendai-san watching a horror movie beside me. In the tablet, the zombies rampage— The recent scenes resurface, rekindling my fear. I check the time on my phone. It's already time for dinner, and I sigh. There's nothing to eat in this room. For dinner, I must go to the shared space. After some thought, I stand up. I bring some comedy manga from the bookshelf and place them beside my phone. There are no ghosts in this house, nor do zombies appear. However, I'm not very hungry, so I decide to read manga instead of eating dinner. One book, two books, three books in—none make me laugh. I continue fetching books from the shelf, reading four books, five books. I even try a novel, but the words don't reach my mind. Time passes slowly, and my phone buzzes. "Sorry, I'll be late." A brief message from Sendai-san. I quickly type back, "Got it." But the time of the moon and stars has arrived, and the view outside my window is pitch-black. Midnight approaches. Before living with Sendai-san, I was always alone. I'm well-versed in enduring fearful nights. Tonight, the tablet is sealed by the black cat, and I have Sendai-san's key case. Thus, I should be fine, but my back remains hunched, refusing to straighten. In such times, burrowing into the futon and sleeping until morning is best, but today, even the futon's darkness seems threatening. I fetch the blanket from the bed and wrap it around myself on the floor. Typically, feeling something against my back offers comfort, and being wrapped in something soft calms me somewhat, but not today. Still wrapped in the blanket, I get up and open the door. I switch on the shared space's light, standing before Sendai-san's room. I press my hand against the door. I want to go inside. I sense it'll be less frightening than being in my own room. However, it's not right to intrude into someone else's room without permission. Just as I wish to keep the sleeping black cat on my bed a secret, Sendai-san might also have things she wants to keep hidden. I glance back at my room, the door left ajar. Right now, the black cat is on top of the tablet. The crocodile is near where I was sitting. I hold Sendai-san's key case and my phone. The crying version of myself is nowhere to be found. I wasn't left behind. Even if I'm scared, if I wait, Sendai-san will return. I close my room's door and sit in front of Sendai-san's room. Since she has to return the exchanged key case to me, there's no way she won't come back. Deep in my heart there is a part of me that can't believe in Sendai-san, but there is also a part of me that does believe in her. These two parts of me are always clashing and fighting. Right now, the part of me that trusts Sendai-san is winning. Hopefully, for a long time from now, I want to live with this feeling. —So, please come back soon. Please.