𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖𝕓𝕠. - ᵇˡᵘᵉ ᵖᵉʳᶤᵒᵈ

scumbling - . 00

scum·ble: /ˈskəmbəl/ - verb; a shading technique achieved by overlapping lots of little circles

TIRED EYES scanned the classroom, boredom seeping into your veins and flooding your system. The familiar scent of graphite and heated rubber infiltrated your nostrils, a soft [s/c] hand roughly gripping the mint-colored plastic of your mechanical pencil. A thin piece of printer paper had been placed before you, text covering one side, questions spaced approximately two inches apart. Bouncing your leg repeatedly, you had yet to mark the pristine sheet that sat upon the smooth surface of the wooden desk. The sound of pencils hastily scratching paper sparked nothing but aggravation, the understanding that there were those that bested you; those that understood the puzzles laid on each desk. You bit your lip, nose scrunching up as you focused on the calculus problems before you. Thirty minutes remained on the timer, with six questions being listed. That left you with about five minutes for each question, give or take depending on its complexity. Mathematics had always been a struggle, but being a tutor for so many other students left no excuse for the lack of answers before you. Numbly, you jotted down the work for your best guess, eyes constantly shifting from the clock to the paper.

You finished the final problem just as the bell rang, signaling the end of the period as well as the end of that horrendous test. Sighing, you rested your chin between the calloused pads of your fingers, gazing out the window directly aside from you. A crisp, cerulean blue sky with dashes of transparent white sparked something within your chest, the desire to create an everlasting portrait of the world before you burning within. Push it away.

"[l/n]-san! What did you think about that quiz? I don't even remember learning any of that! I bet it was easy for you though, right?"

"Hm? Oh ... yeah, it wasn't that hard," lying through your teeth, you fought to preserve the expectations placed upon you by your peers.

"I swear, you're so smart it's scary sometimes. Say, are you gonna join any clubs? I was thinking about joining the drama club!"

"Mm, I don't know," you sighed, glancing over at the girl who had begun talking to you once more. She was rather average in appearance, with long, black hair cascading down her shoulders and framing the view of her deep, chestnut brown eyes. You couldn't remember her full name, only recognizing her surname to be Hibiki. She seemed to enjoy talking to you during class, though you had never made much effort to seek out her friendship. What was the point anyway? High school friendships hardly last. Even still, you'd have to appear friendly.

"Wah! You don't know? Hm ... I can't see you in the drama club, really, aha! How about music?"

You shook your head, a soft, half-hearted smile playing at your features, "What would be the point in that?"

"Oh, I don't know - it could be fun I guess? Oh! What about the art club? I saw you doodling the other day in class, it was really impressive! It was based on the Mona Lisa right?"

Blinking harshly, you failed to hide your shock, "You ... saw that?"

"Pffbt- yeah. You aren't too good at hiding your papers. Not gonna lie, I may or may not have cheated off of you a few times - thanks by the way!"

Shaking your head, you played with the [s/c] skin between your knuckles, a deep frown overtaking your lips, "There's no point in joining the art club."

"Eh? What do you mean? Clubs are for fun, [l/n]! Please tell me you know how to have fun?"

Casting her a sharp glare, you quickly mumbled in response, "Of course I know how to have fun."