172.2 Volume 6 Extra: The Morning We Should Have As Roommates (part 2) - Story About Buying My Classmate Once A Week

Volume 6 Extra: The Morning We Should Have As Roommates 2 (Sendai PoV) Miyagi was nowhere to be found. When I woke up in the morning and went to the shared space, and even as I prepared breakfast, she remained absent from my side. And now, even though I knocked on her door, there was no response. But considering what happened yesterday, I understand this reaction. It was expected. Miyagi isn't the type to face me with a nonchalant expression after the events of the previous day, events you couldn't really call roomie-friendly. My hand paused before I could knock again. There's a proper order to things, and yesterday's incident clearly ignored that order, making this situation a natural consequence. No matter how I look at it, I'm the one at fault. Yet, it feels like Miyagi was the one who initiated the situation. She told me to lick her foot—words that completely unhinged the screws holding my self-control together. My logic tends to become unreliable when I'm around Miyagi, and her words were just... no, that's not right. This isn't about who was wrong or right, and we didn't do anything 'bad.' We just did something that doesn’t suit the term 'roommates.' Therefore, we should deal with the awkwardness and return to how things were. I don't know how to face Miyagi either, yet here I stand. But I understand she needs time. So, I decide to have breakfast alone and sit at the table. Looking ahead, I let out a breath. The absence of Miyagi, who should have been there, makes everything seem oddly spacious. Even though it's awkward, I want to share a meal with her. But considering what happened yesterday, it's not right to force her. She'll come out when she's ready, and I should wait. Softly, I say "thanks for the meal" and take a bite of toast spread with jam and butter. It would be too much to say it's not tasty, but it lacks flavor. I don’t measure how much jam or butter I use, so the quantities are slightly different each time. Yet, the taste differs too much from the toasts I’ve had before. Neither the sweetness of the jam nor the saltiness of the butter comes through. The ham and eggs don’t seem particularly enjoyable either, making eating feel like a wasteful task. I decide to eat both toasts meant for two people, mechanically moving my hand and mouth to get them down my throat. I put the leftovers in the fridge and wash the dishes. I’m worried about Miyagi, but skipping university isn’t an option, so I return to my room and prepare to leave. After some time has passed since breakfast, I go back to the common area. Still, Miyagi isn’t there. It seems like I won't see her unless I do something, so I go back to stand in front of her door again. I inhale, exhale, and knock on the door three times. With no response, I call out her name repeatedly. Miyagi’s door remains shut. From the start, I had a hunch. The room is probably empty. Confronting the fact I'd pushed out of my mind, realizing that she surely left the house before I woke up. Not wanting to acknowledge it aggressively, I finally head to the hallway. As expected, her shoes are gone. Although I knew it, I let out a deep sigh. "I thought so," I murmur, waiting for revelation or regret or some spark of insight, all elusive. Massaging my temple, I head back to the common area and sit down. Why couldn't I have woken up earlier? If I'd been up before she left, I could've stopped her and we could've had breakfast together. Perhaps she didn’t want to see me, but meeting face to face might’ve made everything feel more manageable. Now, I regret it deeply. I want to see Miyagi right now. I want to know what expression she had, what she was thinking when she left the house today. Did she think of me, even a little? Did yesterday’s events resurface in her mind? These thoughts may seem trivial, but to me, they are incredibly important, even though she probably wouldn’t answer if I asked. I let out another sigh and retreat to my room. Picking up my phone from the table, I send her a message: “Morning. Did you leave the house already?” After ten minutes or so, and unsurprisingly, there's still no reply. I lay down on the bed. My blouse and skirt will probably get wrinkled, but I can't muster the energy or motivation to care. Being in this home without Miyagi, yesterday's closeness feels like a fading illusion. But it's precisely because it's not an illusion that she's gone. I place my palm where her head once lay. Gently stroking, I grip the sheets tightly. There's no sense of Miyagi's skin or warmth. Only the smooth coolness of fabric greets my touch. If only I hadn’t let go when I hugged her yesterday, hadn’t let her return to her room—thoughts like these invade, despite us being nothing more than roommates. I curl up tightly and then, with resolve, stretch out and sit up. I decide to send another message to Miyagi. "What time will you be back?" No response comes, even though I wait. It’s getting to the point where I’ll miss my lectures if I don't leave soon. I grab my phone and toss it into my bag before exiting the room. Even if I can't meet her now, once night falls, we'll likely see each other. Yesterday's incident was significant for us, yet it’s not reason enough for her to avoid coming home. Standing in front of her room once more, I mutter, "At least send a reply," and leave the common area behind.