part 20

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a few days had passed by ever since their gift searching spree and little hangout at the café. y/n never saw scaramouche's face even once around the campus. she began to think he was skipping classes. but why would he, a perfect student, do that? she grew even more concerned when she didn't notice his presence in their art classes either, the only class which they shared together.

after classes got over, she took her usual route back to her unit. however, on the way, her eyes landed on a certain indigo haired figure inside a park, with a book in his hand, which she assumed to be a sketchbook. it was not technically a park for kids with swings around, but rather like a picnic spot, with benches around, surrounded by cherry blossom trees. the overall scenery of the park almost made him look peaceful, and definitely not like someone who swears in every sentence.

she mindlessly took little steps forward, as if her legs were being controlled and she was getting pulled towards his figure like a magnet, and in no time, she was front of him. scaramouche on the other hand, however, didn't take a glance. he blankly stared down at his sketchbook, though his mind was circling around with other thoughts.

"hey." she called out, causing the guy on the bench to flinch a little before looking up.

he quickly brought his sketchbook towards his chest as an attempt to cover it, causing y/n to chuckle at his little action.

she took a seat beside him, "what are you doing? i'm not going to eat it."

"you never know, you're friends with itto."

"hey, stop the itto slander! anyway that's not the point. have you been missing classes?"

he paused for a moment before turning away from her, "maybe."

"why?"

"studying."

"studying? but aren't you missing out on the new chapters then?"

"i can catch up with all that." he spoke, as if it was not really a big deal for him.

"ah, alright."


a deafening silence surrounded the both of them. the only sound which accompanied them were the soft breathing and the cherry blossom trees, as the wind swiftly brushed across them, making a few pink flowers delicately fall to the ground in the process. soon, sounds of pencil strokes could be heard, against the rough surface of a paper, indicating scaramouche had resumed his little sketch.

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