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Yare yare. I'm usually not this desperate.
"Teruhashi."
What am I doing?
Teruhashi Kokomi pivots, her lips parting in adorable shock and her hair swaying gently in the light springtime breeze.
It's not even spring.
"Saiki wants to talk to me!" her mind sings obnoxiously. "Of course! He's finally gotten over his shyness and is ready to confess his love!"
I’m annoyed. I regret what I’m about to ask.
"Will you grant me a favor?"
"What favor is it, Saiki-kun?" she asks, feigning innocence. She still has the wrong idea.
My palms feel clammy, so I subtly activate my pyrokinesis to evaporate the sweat.
Being desperate is annoying. Teruhashi might not be able to help anyway. The evidence that led me to confront her is circumstantial at best.
But if I don't try, my suffering is guaranteed.
"My distant relative is making plans for a two-week visit."
"Oh, uh, that's nice…"
"It's not. He's unpleasant to be around."
"What kind of confession is this? Is he chickening out? Poor Saiki!"
Poor me, resorting to this.
I take a deep breath, battling my pride, my shame, my increasing horror at what Teruhashi could misconstrue from me asking her this monumental favor.
"Can you pray for his vacation plans to be ruined?"
Since God loves Teruhashi, my last remaining hope is that the Favored One can intervene on my behalf, that by some miracle I'll be spared from this looming nightmare.
Teruhashi is still delusional.
"Huh? Of course, he needed to make up something after he chickened out, but–is he serious?"
"I know it's a strange request, but I'm out of other options." I project, along with Serious intentions. "When it comes to manipulating divine intervention, you're the most experienced person I know."
"Hm. His tone is serious, even though the words aren't."
My telepathy picks up something else from Teruhashi's mind. Not surface level thoughts, but not completely subconscious either.
All at once, she is acutely aware of how wrong the situation is. Usually, she pretends to be oblivious to her own charms, and I pretend to be oblivious to everything.
Just now, I broke the illusion carelessly. For a fleeting moment, it's as if she can see the real me.
Then she decides not to. The real me would be someone who sees the real her.
Unacceptable.
"Ah, okay? I’ll pray for him to have a lovely vacation somewhere else!”
“Thank you,”
I say, then leave, teleporting as soon as I turn the corner. Hopefully