𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦

four

If someone asked Gluttony about his condition, he would've just laughed until he choked on and died from the flowers bubbling up his throat constantly.

Congratulations! he thought bitterly. You got hanahaki.

He thought the disease was merely fictional until he himself caught it, and he knew exactly who caused it. The person who hated his guts.

Sighing, Gluttony stared at the vacant chair across him, where a classmate had skipped class. He was very much tempted to flip the table and storm out of class, but he didn't, because he had some restraint, even though he was supposed to be the opposite of that.

And there I go again, he sighed, realizing his thoughts had done a 360° degrees turn back to Temperance. He'd put extra effort in trying to avoid her, but fate seems to like saying "fuck you, no" to him.

He sighed again. That action described his emotions perfectly, so why not?

The substitute teacher was building a model plane, and so she did not realize Gluttony's odd (and "impolite") behavior.

Well, there's one thing to be grateful of today, Gluttony thought dejectedly, staring at his finished worksheet. He wished that it was harder, as it helped take his mind off a certain someone who wasn't in this elective.

Might as well get something done, he mused, pulling out a thick, dark green binder from his bag. The color is somewhat of a harsh reminder, but he skipped that and started scribbling on the "potential cures" pages.

If he's going to be thinking about Temperance, it's going to be in a productive way. He might even save lives this way.

He'd had too much blood on his hands to ever pass up a chance to prevent that.