☁︎ ┆ ❝ The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams. ❞
As of August 2022, this book is currently undergoing major editing and revisions. It will be updated periodically when I finish editing chapters.
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———— S E C R E T G I R L F R I E N D kei tsukishima
w a r n i n g s : none c a t e g o r y : fluff ————
It's not that the two of you wished for it to be kept a secret. Sometimes, valuing privacy comes at the cost of boisterous gestures.
The boy whose expressions never quite matched his intentions, and whose eyes held warmth his voice sometimes lacked, had once seemed distant and beyond arm's reach. However, in time, it became painfully obvious that volunteering to run his forgotten math notebook across campus to the gym, or secretly celebrating the new seating chart that placed his name beside yours, weren't exactly the actions of someone only interested in possibly making a new friend.
For a few weeks, it seemed silly and almost preposturous that someone like Tsukishima, someone known for preferring solitude with the exception of Yamaguchi, could ever become just as excited to see you as you were to see him. Not that you were ready to give up on the idea of him, but had the mind to use the upcoming summer break to ease the frivolous idea and start the semester back with a new, mature attitude.
When suddenly, to disrupt your train of thoughts, came a light tap on your desk.
"Yes?" you said, turning your head to the left to see Tsukishima turning his notebook towards you.
"The math assignment," he replied.
"Math assignment?"
"Write it down."
Considering the final lesson of the day had been an English class, and you were positive you had already written down the math assignment from two classes ago, this was highly bizarre of Tsukishima to suddenly interrupt with. Hesitantly, at first glance, his eyes refuse to meet yours. Instead, he turned his head left towards the window and held up his notebook for you to copy the assignment.
"Hurry up," he grumbled, still gazing out of the window.
Jolted into action by the sudden command, you picked up your pencil quickly and flipped to a fresh page in your English notebook—apologies to any system of organization—and began copying. Looking at what he had written, it wasn't an assignment at all, unless all future assignments now came in a long string of numbers plus an area code.
Unsure of what this actually meant, he closed his notebook and began packing up his belongings without a further explanation. The rest of the class had already erupted into loud conversations for summer plans or anguished sighs of frustration knowing summer school would dampen any fun to be had.
