Careful What You Think, Pervert! (My Dirty Thoughts Became Real)-Chapter 21: A Beach Episode Should Not Be This Existential

Day 1: Arrival at Disaster Beach

You would think a school trip to the beach would be a welcome break.

You'd be wrong.

Because in my life, a "beach episode" isn't a trope.

It's a curse.

The bus ride was doomed from the start.

Kokoro sat by the window.

Aya took the aisle.

I got the middle seat.

No escape. No air. No sanity.

Kokoro: "If your arm touches me again, I'm stabbing you with a juice straw."

Aya: "If your thigh doesn't touch me again, I'm stabbing myself with a juice straw."

Me: "Can I trade seats with literally anyone, including the bus driver?"

We arrived at the beachfront inn.

Two nights. Mixed lodging. Group activities.

And worst of all: shared bath rotations.

Sensei, of course, was the supervising teacher.

And she made the announcement with the glee of a game show host about to ruin someone's life.

"Boys, you're bathing first. Girls, you're second. Do not try anything cliché, or I'll personally drown you."

Kokoro raised her hand.

"Does accidentally hallucinating fanservice count as a crime?"

Sensei paused.

"...Not unless it becomes real."

Kokoro turned to me.

Deadpan.

"So, wear a blindfold."

Day 1: Afternoon

Beach volleyball. Grilled squid. Sunburns. And enough sunscreen application scenes to fuel an entire subgenre of romance.

Aya wore a white bikini and a straw hat that made my brain short circuit like a vending machine in a thunderstorm.

Kokoro wore a dark navy one-piece. Minimal, practical, but somehow 9000x more dangerous because of how unbothered she looked.

Aya: "You're looking, Haruma."

Me: "I'm breathing. That's all I'm doing."

Kokoro: "He's overthinking. That's his default pervert stance."

Things escalated fast.

Volleyball turned into a bet.

Loser had to perform a "sexy summer punishment."

Guess who lost?

Me.

Aya handed me a watermelon and a blindfold.

"Go."

"...What's the game?"

"Walk ten paces straight into the water, turn left, and confess your feelings to the sea."

"Why does the sea deserve my pain?"

"It's the only one that can handle it."

So I did it.

I confessed to the Pacific Ocean.

It did not reciprocate.

Aya and Kokoro gave me a 7.5 for dramatic flair.

Day 1: Evening

Campfire.

Roasted marshmallows.

Stolen glances.

Aya sat across from me, arms around her knees.

Kokoro stood near the flames, watching the embers dance in the dark.

Sensei brought out sparklers and handed them around like it was the final level of a dating sim.

We lit them one by one.

Mine fizzled out first.

Aya's burned the longest.

Kokoro's flared once—then shattered into sparks that lit her whole face for half a second.

And in that moment, I saw it—

That tiny, quiet hope in her eyes.

The kind of thing you only notice when you've already fallen too far.

Later, alone on the porch, I sat with Aya.

The stars above were clear. Bright. Blinding.

She passed me a juice box.

"You've been weird all day," she said.

"I'm always weird."

"You've been honestly weird. That's new."

I laughed softly.

"Can't hide when everyone's watching."

"You're not being watched. You're being waited for."

That made me pause.

"By who?"

She looked at me.

And said nothing.

Just leaned her head on my shoulder.

And stayed there.

Day 2: Morning

Bath rotation.

My turn came late.

Everyone else had already gone.

I walked into the steamy room, tired, sore, sunburned, and ready for exactly zero chaos.

Instead, I walked in on Kokoro.

Already half-submerged.

Frozen.

I froze too.

We both stared.

Ten full seconds of silence.

Then she said, calm as death:

"This is your brain's fault. Not mine."

I spun, slammed the door shut, and ran.

From the other side, I heard her mutter:

"...You could've said hi."

Day 2: Beach Farewell

We stood by the water as the sun set.

Aya threw a stone into the sea.

Kokoro wrote something in the sand.

I stood, hands in pockets, heart on fire.

Then, for no reason, Sensei handed me a seashell.

"Kazuki."

"...Yes?"

She grinned.

"That shell hears everything. Be careful what you whisper to it."

I held it up to my ear.

And whispered:

"...Please stop becoming real, brain."

The shell whispered back: ƒгeewebnovёl.com

"Too late."