Chifuyu Matsuno, the vice captain of the Tokyo Manji Gang's first division, has found himself falling in love with the girl sitting behind him in his science class with the pretty hair clip.
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"Jouta, we'll be late!"
It was the end of the week, bright Friday glaring down at you with high expectations. You not only had multiple tests on the day but Jouta was deciding to take longer than usual with getting ready this morning. You were bound to be late for your first class, a pang of misery hitting you. It's not like life is over but it sure felt like it was.
'It's only one class- don't be overdramatic!'
You barely ever listen to your head though, why listen to it now?
"Run! We gotta run!"
Jouta runs toward you with a hasty look, hair amess and a bouquet (you assumed it was an attempt at one) was tight in his hands. Some of the flowers were wilted while others stood tall and in dying need of water. You don't take the small details into significance though, racing out the door with Jouta's unoccupied hand in yours.
His footsteps behind yours are unsteady, but soon match the rhythm of your beating shoes against the floors. You're a panting mess by the time he reaches school. On time, may you add.
At least one of you were getting to where you needed to be at the right time.
"Shit! Mother fucking shit!", you scream to yourself, losing composure as you hear the ring of your schools first bell from afar. You're tripping over the cracks in the ground, wiping the sweat from your forehead and clutching your school bag into your hand.
Your hearts pounding, aching for a break, but you push. You're on fire; burning too hot. You're overheating.
You're freezing.
The nurses office is cold and has a nice view of the outside.
The outside— the area you fell face first at, red droplets sunken into the ground to show you fucked up your nose.
"To be in a rush to class is in my understanding," the lady cocks an eyebrow when she turns to you, beaten up by the concrete and shifting your gaze to the jar of cotton balls that seemed to be much more interesting now, "To be going so fast you trip and nearly break your nose? Please slow down next time, Ms. L/n."
You can only nod, your cheeks tingling with heat while the rest of your body lay in goosebumps.
She hands you a slip. It was to excuse of your absence.
You make you way to class, still horridly embarrassed by your appearance after your visit to the floor.
And as you reach the doors handle, the bell lets out its ear rattling ring.
You rush in, handing your teacher the note and tapping a foot impatiently on the floor. You didn't wanna be late for another class today.
"You'll make up the test Monday," is all you need to hear before nodding and rushing off to your next class. The halls are still bustled, you can slow down.
