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￤ FIREFLIES IN STOMACH
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"woah," y/n exclaimed.
eyes stirring upon the long paper which wakasa just returned to her. it contains the almost featherly handwritten of him, gently beautiful is what she silently and reverently describes - scanning it thoroughly.
"i've been giving you different sets of problems, and all of it. . ." y/n momentarily paused, eyeing the light shade of wakasa's purple stares, "you got it all. . . correctly."
"psh, you're making me smile." the guy snugly commented, fixing the reading eyeglass he saw under the table of the library's hall in the midst of falling off his nose's bridge.
wakasa silently wishes that y/n will notice and frankly compliment him on how he suits wearing these two pieces of lens, glasses that no one owns. . . so now, he owns it.
uh, well. . . we can assume that he has this habit of owning things. . .
y/n laid down the paper and started to glued her things on her hand's grip, in order for it to keep back inside her bag.
it's been a week since y/n and wakasa started doing this; tutoring the one who firstly and proudly finished their examination. wakasa imaushi isn't surprised when he heard that the results he got are so contrasting, but he instead got thrilled when their teacher pointed him to get tutored by the one who ranked the first in their class - and it is y/n l/n.
