A lap pillow—as the name suggests—is when one person gently rests their head on another's thighs.
In the world of anime, it's a moe trope bathed in soft light. But in reality, it's an exceptionally rare act of intimacy—something that only happens when you're so exhausted you can't keep your eyes open, or when someone leans in close to carefully clean your ears.
Shimizu Akira had never experienced anything like this in his life.
"Alright, got it." Seeing Kushida Kikyō pat her lap, he agreed without hesitation.
There was no reason to refuse.
She was honoring the bet—he had no grounds to back out now.
And… he glanced down at the skirt she had deliberately smoothed out. What would this anime-like scenario actually feel like in real life?
After a brief pause, Shimizu slowly leaned back along the curve of the sofa.
The moment the back of his head touched Kushida's knees, his spine instinctively tensed—through the thin fabric of her skirt, he could feel the warmth of her thighs, slightly hotter than he'd expected.
"Don't move~" Kushida's voice drifted down from above. "Do you want me to wake you up when time's up? Are you… nervous, Shimizu-kun? Is this your first time getting a lap pillow from a girl?"
Her fingertips pressed lightly against his shoulders, barely any force behind them.
"Yeah, you're right."
He could clearly tell—the thighs beneath him were slightly stiff. Her muscles hadn't fully relaxed, and even the folds of her skirt remained barely disturbed.
That subtle tension didn't lie. Looks like I'm not the only one feeling awkward here.
(…She's probably nervous too.)
Tilting his head back, Shimizu's gaze landed on the rotating disco lights overhead.
Red, blue, and pink streaks flickered across the ceiling before spilling onto Kushida's hair—she was looking down slightly, still holding the mic she hadn't put away, though she wasn't singing anymore.
"Your hair's kinda rough," she suddenly remarked, her fingers lightly brushing the ends. "Do you not use conditioner?"
"Never got into the habit." His voice rumbled from his chest, and he felt the knee beneath him shift slightly.
The whole scenario felt oddly surreal—despite the noisy karaoke room, he could clearly hear her breathing and the faint rustle of her skirt as she adjusted.
"Three minutes—only ten seconds have passed~" Kushida curled her fingers. "Want to close your eyes and rest? The lights must be bothering you."
Shimizu obediently shut his eyes.
In the darkness, his senses sharpened—the faint sweetness of mango juice mixed with the clean scent of her shampoo.
Her knees rose and fell slightly with each breath, like a gently rocking boat.
His muscles slowly relaxed.
Objectively speaking, the sensation of resting on someone's thighs wasn't as comfortable as his dorm pillow—the friction of the fabric, the slight unevenness, all of it unfamiliar.
Yet, right now, his chest felt like it had been soaked in warm water, an indescribable lightness spreading through him. Even the noisy background music seemed to fade.
"One minute left~" Kushida's voice floated down. "Ah, Shimizu-kun, just out of curiosity—how did you and Horikita-san drop the '-san'?"
"Hah?" Shimizu's lips twitched—this girl really doesn't waste a single opportunity to gather intel, huh? Not even during a lap pillow?
He could practically picture her expression—eyes lowered, lashes fluttering, feigning innocence like it was just a casual question.
(How does she manage to be both scheming and cute at the same time…?)
"Nothing special," he admitted bluntly. "I just said, 'We're close enough now, no need for formalities.' She agreed to drop the honorific. That's it."
As he spoke, he felt the knee beneath him shift slightly—probably in surprise.
Sure enough, her voice followed: "Eh?! That straightforward? And Horikita-san actually agreed?!"
"Yeah." Shimizu almost laughed. "That's just how Horikita is. If you're too polite, she'll just find it annoying."
"I… see?!"
He didn't bother responding this time.
The background music had switched to a slow love song at some point, the female singer's soft hum intertwining with Kushida's breathing—somehow even more soothing than the past half-hour of singing.
"Time's up~" As the last second of the three minutes ticked away, Kushida gave his shoulder a light push. "If you keep lying there, I'll have to charge extra points."
When Shimizu sat up, the warmth of her knees still lingered on the back of his head.
Glancing over, he caught Kushida rubbing her thighs, her cheeks slightly flushed—probably numb from his weight.
"Will there be a next time?" he suddenly asked.
Kushida blinked, her fingers pressing into her knee—after three minutes, her muscles had stiffened.
She had meant to flash her usual sweet smile and chirp, "No way~!" But the soreness was too real, and her practiced gentleness instantly crumbled.
(What kind of fantasy is this guy living in?! There won't be a next time! This only happened because you tricked me!)
(Besides, you've outlived your usefulness! I've already squeezed all the info out of you! Why would I give you another lap pillow?!)
Her inner eye-roll was almost audible. Looking down, she noticed the stubborn cowlick at the back of Shimizu's head—so rigid.
If her knees weren't so sore,
she might've pressed down on it, just to see if she could soften that stubborn swirl.
Post-Scene: Social Media Aftermath
There was no denying it—Kushida Kikyō was an exceptionally skilled date.
Emotional support delivered flawlessly, the itinerary meticulously planned.
Every word dripped with honeyed sweetness, and she'd even honored the bet with a lap pillow—if Shimizu were to rate this outing, it'd be a solid 10/10.
Back in his dorm, he absentmindedly opened social media and scrolled to Kushida's latest post. Sure enough, she'd uploaded photos of their time together:
A side-profile shot of them singing in the karaoke booth.
A candid of them locking eyes by the café window.
Even a snapshot of him mid-bite into the giant parfait—ice crumbs stuck to his lips, spoon still buried in strawberries, equal parts messy and focused.
The caption read:
"Congrats to Shimizu-kun for conquering the Mega Parfait Challenge! Thanks to him, I got a free dessert too~"
Dozens of likes from classmates already flooded the post. The most conspicuous comment came from Yamauchi Haruki:
"T-This is just because of the bet, right?! You two aren't actually dating, are you?!"
Shimizu stared at the parfait photo for a moment, suddenly recalling the way Kushida's eyes had crinkled with suppressed laughter behind her cup.
In a way, that barely-contained amusement had become the most memorable part of the day.