黒尾鉄朗
♡︎ ⤻ ˚ who knew finding 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 would be
such an 𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙚 to all her problems.
he was her 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮.
˖⁺ se·ren·i·ty
/səˈrenədē/
noun
the state of being 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙢,
𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙛𝙪𝙡, and 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙙.
( ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴀʙᴜsᴇ ,
...
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SIXTY-ONE
THE THREE OF THEM HAD ARRIVED AT Misumi's home harmlessly. She had to give credit to Kuroo — she genuinely had no idea he would be so proficient at driving, especially when it came to a manual vehicle. It was remarkably impressive.
Even with the aphrodisiac gaze they had both enabled on each other, his feet maneuvered swiftly above the clutch pedal when switching gears, almost effortlessly.
Well, the good thing was that her mother wasn't home at that moment. Apparently, she was going over her mom's place to sleep over and support her with cleansing and tidying the place.
"No way," Kenma rasped under his breath in unsullied astonishment "You have LOLOL?" He eyeballed the disc that settled upon her kitchen counter.
Misumi came in through the front door, assisting Kuroo to transfer some of the blankets and pillows that rested in the drunk of his car.
She glanced up at Kenma, who had a subtle smile breach on his full lips "Yeah of course I do! I finished it so long ago." Misumi waved her hand, setting the sleeping items down by the stairs.
"Can you tell me why Kenma is the only one who isn't helping get the stuff down?" Kuroo poked his head inside the front door, a dreaded expression on his face.
"It's perfectly fine, I think I brought the last things inside." Ensured Misumi, welcoming Kuroo to invade her home.
He secured the front door, overhearing the beeps of security buzzing off as he fastened with the locks.
His bronze-tinted eyes sparkled in veneration "Geez, the last time I was here I was so drunk I didn't even notice how nice your house is." Kuroo darted around her home, taking in all the decor her mother had put up.
The last time Kuroo went over, he was, in fact, wasted out of his mind. He didn't even take the opportunity to examine the walls and look at the countless number of framed photos of Misumi and her family.
For some reason Misumi was appreciative of that — the photos her mother had put up were utterly embarrassing. Notably, the school sports photos back when she had first started track and field in middle school.
One of her most unfavorable years in appearance if she was being realistic.
Whenever she took the pictures down, she always found them back up and nailed back onto the walls the very next morning.
