The knock was louder this time.
Followed by the unmistakable sound of keys rattling against the doorknob.
Aoi's breath hitched in her throat.
Mizuki didn't flinch.
Instead, she pressed her finger softly to Aoi's lips—silent, firm. Her other hand slid down to find Aoi's fingers, weaving them together tightly.
The key turned in the lock.
But it didn't open.
A second turn. Still nothing.
Aoi blinked in confusion.
Mizuki leaned in, whispering almost soundlessly:
"I broke the inside lock last week. Just in case."
Aoi's eyes widened.
The footsteps outside shifted.
Then silence.
Then…
Gone.
Neither of them spoke for a long time.
Only their breathing filled the room—sharp, shallow, too close.
Aoi leaned back against the wall, her legs threatening to give way. Mizuki didn't let go of her hand. In fact, she stepped closer.
Closer than before.
Now their shoulders touched. Now their fingers were clenched so tight they ached.
"You're shaking," Mizuki murmured.
"I almost passed out," Aoi whispered back. Her voice trembled.
Mizuki's thumb brushed the back of her hand in slow, soothing strokes.
"We were almost caught," Aoi added, barely audible.
"But we weren't."
"You think that makes this okay?"
Mizuki didn't answer right away. She looked down at their joined hands, then into Aoi's eyes—searching for something. Needing something.
Her next words were softer than the air between them.
"No," she said. "Nothing about this is okay."
Then she leaned forward again, this time resting her forehead gently against Aoi's.
"But I still want it."
Aoi's stomach twisted.
Her heart was racing.
The closeness was too much. Or maybe just enough. Her other hand rose on its own, brushing lightly against Mizuki's shoulder. She felt the thin cotton of her school shirt, the warmth underneath.
Mizuki's breath caught. Her hand moved to Aoi's waist again—hesitant, slow. Their bodies nearly aligned.
And still…
No kiss.
Just tension.
Just silence.
Just heat.
"I think about it all the time," Aoi whispered, not even sure why the words came. "What would happen if someone really found out."
Mizuki's voice was low and bitter.
"They'd say I'm corrupting you."
"You're not."
"They'd say this is wrong."
Aoi's hand slid up to Mizuki's collarbone, her fingers trembling as they hovered there.
"It doesn't feel wrong."
And then, like something ancient breaking loose, Mizuki finally closed the space between them. But not with her lips—no.
Her forehead pressed harder to Aoi's. Her hands gripped both of Aoi's, pulling them up between them, palms flat. Her entire body seemed to tremble from restraint.
"I want to kiss you so badly," she breathed.
"But I won't. Not yet."
Aoi's knees almost buckled.
"Mizuki…"
She didn't reply.
Because if she did—if either of them did—the spell would shatter.
And maybe neither of them would stop.
So they stood like that.
Pressed together in a locked room.
Not kissing.
But closer than a kiss could ever be.