₊˚✧ . ・❝I like you more than as a friend, ya know, WE like you.❞ ₊˚✧ . ・
°•. In which 16-year-old, second-year Miyako Ichinose (美夜子 一ノ瀬) chose to begin her new life at Inarizaki High as the co-assistant of the Volleyball Team, after leaving her ol...
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✦ Monday morning comes as you groggily amble to class, schoolbag over your shoulders, and papers lazily held in hand. Seven in the morning is much too early to be awake, not accounting for how much earlier you had to get up in order to get ready. Take into account the total time it would take for me to prepare for your first day. I'm going to invest in a cute little bike.
Students were beginning to file into the building at this point; it was still twenty minutes until the first bell rang for homeroom. You pull open one of the entrance doors and head inside, weaving through all the people crowded in the shoe locker hall. You sift through your memories for the location of the main offices, for that's where you need to go to collect timetables and papers.
As you were wracking your brain, however, you lost focus on your environment and slammed into someone much taller than I am, sending me flying onto my backside.
"Oi!" the person exclaims in surprise, a large hand coming into my vision. "Watch where you're going!"
"I-I'm sorry," you mutter in a bashful tone, accepting the help gratefully. Because of course, the crash you made yesterday wasn't enough trouble.
Surprisingly, it's Osamu who pulls you up with a strong tug, eyes widening as you hastily begin brushing off my skirt of any dust it may have collected.
"It's you..." he smirks. "Mi-chan."
You want to knock the expression off his face, whether it's with your fists or your lips.
Wait. What did I just think?
Cheeks burning, you do the only thing you can think of and flip the man off, turning away before he can catch the look on your face. You don't find him attractive; you just met him. You don't. God, your parents would be disappointed right now.
"I think Mi-chan suits you better."
"It's not funny," you say. Why am I thinking about his lips?
His lips aren't even that nice. They're average at best, and they look mildly chapped. And it's Miya Osamu. Your standards might be low, but you still have them. Although apparently, your brain doesn't.
You sigh, irritated that you were stupid enough to run into someone so chatty, twice at that. And then pointed at the class on your schedule. "Can you tell me where this class is?"
"For a second time?" he said, folding his arms behind his head casually. "But what do I get in return?"
Your eye twitched. "My eternal gratitude," you answer sharply.
