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Platonic or romantic

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Every day, whenever they’d find each other within their proximity, she always indulged herself in the oddly addicting scent of her hair that wafted through the air. In the cafeteria they both share as 2nd years, her heart pumped adrenaline from one stolen glance at her. During her performances as Tokiwadai’s prided violinist, she tends to notice her presence in the audience more often despite her infrequent visits in the past. 


They’ve both softened up ever since the occurrence of Academy City’s festival, the Daihasei, or their cooperation during the chase of the Doppelganger – too much to the point where rumors had found themself made in the midst of their surroundings. She always acted like she did not care about those wandering information, yet it pulled her behind like a rope.


What were they now, exactly? She herself has the liberty to label themselves as friends or remain as acquaintances, a contact, or a schoolmate. But lately, everything her five senses has to offer, simply said no. Since right now, with the answer in her hands and mind, she walked through the halls of this school and slid the door open, to be greeted with a picturesque view.


Her hair gleamed brighter than the scorching hot sun itself, her skin practically the embodiment of porcelain. It hugged it with her long white gloves on her arms, a body that wore a uniform that curved along its figure. This so-described owner of these notable features had a playful smirk plastered on her face seeing her beloved feel similar scales of heat to the aforementioned sun.


She loved it, so much. She longed for a day when the end of their ties finally meet, and today, it may have happened. The girl before her hid a brightly decorated red box behind her back, in turn, she herself hid red flowers depicting love. Those red flowers of roses always held a deep meaning in her own heart, and finally, she has found someone worthy to receive of it.


Not those lowly men wrenching for fame, wealth, and lust, whose lives revolve around their self-centered principle of “greed.” But someone dependable, caring, and trustworthy. She who has saved many with a brave face, a simple facade she wishes nobody to see, but she continues with it.


Because that’s who she is, 


Right? Mikoto.


“Shokuhou,” a second for a breath, “do you want” she said hesitantly, immediately showing that box of unknown contents to her.


Her blushing face had woken up the nerves in her brain, possibly returning it with a provoked redness of her own. But she did not care. She waited, for so long for this day, that she might just might, cry.


“Mikoto,” the sudden address of her name jolted her in surprise, “Yes, I’d love to.” she replied, a rustle of paper could be heard between them as she moved her hand, “Accept these, please.” It was the bouquet of roses she hid as well, a gift in exchange for another gift.


“This whole thing, for me?” she questioned, unsure if she was allowed to accept this extravagant gift from her. After all, it was from her, the rival, her rival. They were enemies in the past, destiny offered nothing but a bumpy ride for them both, but for some reason it landed, butter smooth. 


“Of course, and I take it this is for me as well?” her two eyes laid upon what Mikoto held tightly in her left hand, observing the wonderful melodious choice of color scheme, as if it was customized exactly to her preferences. 


“Y-Yeah,” she couldn’t believe it, “Please take this as well.” were they on the same page here? She didn’t find it in her to figure it out. Her thoughts were certain, that she’d get rejected, there in the empty classroom on the 3rd floor. 


But it’s going unusually well.


“Do you want to sit down?” her gloved hand patting down on the chair beside her, facing the window view of their campus. Many groups of girls gather near the fountain, sitting on the benches, some enjoying tea over a table of sweets, defining the word “elegance” this school sought to teach. 


“Okay,” she reluctantly sat, unbeknownst of what has now to come. Her mind was unable to think straight nor could her body coordination currently perform properly, however she threw all those away and let herself feel selfish with her now girlfriend, Shokuhou Misaki.


Along with her observation in these past few months, she noticed how shaped her figure was indeed. Though her pride couldn’t admit to it in their bickers, often commenting it was fat instead, it was attractive, much more than normal. Which led her now, the tempting urge to rest her head down on her thighs loomed over her, her formerly innocent eyes laying view upon her legs.


“Like what you’re looking at?” she smirked, sly eyes looking straight at her after sensing her intense stare on her legs. Perhaps she enticed some sort of allure from the Railgun herself?


“Sorry! I didn’t mean to.” she apologized, readying herself for the scolding that … didn’t even happen. Huh, how unusual, she thought, thinking about this irregularity of behavior. Her eyes laid view, not on her attractive traits and personality, but on her young complexion instead, it was reddening immensely, so much that she whipped her head around in the opposite direction.


“Ugh..” she silently groaned out, dwelling herself in the funny feeling of ironic shame she caught herself in. “You okay?” she heard from her right, concern laced with the soft voice she’s come to love. Despite the confident front she acted, having someone she liked and admired, not some unemployed adult on the street, thirst for the features she’s come to love about herself evokes such overwhelming joy within her.


“I’m fine, probably,” she says through the hand that covers her face, “Nevermind that, shouldn’t you worry about that super noticeable gaze of yours?” 


Her movements freeze at a standstill, “Eh? Was it that obvious?” she chuckled awkwardly, yet to forget about the sin she committed.


“You’re not sly at all, Mikoto.” her tongue clicked continuously, a finger waving in disapproval. “Come on, is this the best the 3rd ranked can manage?” she giggled cheekily, happily poking at her weak points, one being the dignity that lies in her rank.


Though she wished otherwise, she must agree that concealing the intensity of her senses in effect is a skill she can’t do efficiently, no matter how strong her ability may be. Mayhaps this explains why her tendencies gravitate more to power-wielding her way through things instead of intelligently planning it out. 


“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes, surrendering to the temptation that tested her conviction, “Let me do it,” her tone stern.


“Ah ah, how scary,” she teased, grinning to herself as she now senses an intense stare accompanied by resentment than lust. On the contrary, Mikoto was eager to do what she wanted, but having her name written down on the waitlist without a single affirmation, or even refutation, drowns out her patience.


Finally, she spoke, “Go ahead,” then a smile, clearly anticipating something quite naughty or improper, in lieu of it, she felt the soft thump of her head on her lap, her legs still on the adjacent chair but her upper torso laying in quite an uncomfortable position. 


Misaki felt herself explode, Oh my god.


“Like what you feel?” This time, she repeated the same words she was talked down with, easily finding laughter in the fluctuating pace of her heart beat. It felt like it couldn't pick a speed, whether it should be fast or be slow, it simply humored her, nothing more.


"..." Silence, zero sound, quieter than the distant forests of the country, she didn't have the composure to perfectly reply to her.


"Is this too much?" she asked with her utmost sincerity, setting aside her pride for now, her priority was to confirm her comfortability. The last thing she'd like to hear are pleas of displeasement.


"No, it's fine." she reassured her, all in the while of giving in to her own desires. A soft hand found its way on the hair of who laid down, creating a slow rubbing motion. 


Her formerly tense muscles hung low, face resting and shoulders back, she felt the sensation of hair nestling up into her own hand. 


Certainly, this was a sign of new beginnings. Their intimacy now grew into a different sense, romance. Not the previous interactions that couldn't classify itself under a specific umbrella of category, whether it was platonic or romantic, it never left the middle lining between the two before.


But a step was made, and now it's shown its full glory.


"I love you, Misaki." It was her turn to feel surprise upon the call of her first name, a tingling feeling boiling in her stomach. She didn't like it, in fact, she loved it.


A grin, a chuckle, all expressions of humor found itself presented in that golden hour, "I love you too, Mikoto." A wave of satisfaction overwhelmed her there.


The carressing of her hair halted when she felt her breath steady, Mikoto fell asleep on the comfy rest of her lap. She's so cute, she thought playfully. Gone are the days where she hasn't met somebody who uses her lap as a pillow.


The scene was perfect, skies golden with a hue of purple as a sign of evening's entrance to the world.


And a cute, yet strong girl laid defenseless on the Mental Out's legs.


God damn it.