𝐁𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 | 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐢 𝐤.

✓ | ᶜʰⁱⁿ

나를 볼 수 있습니까, (y / n)?

⚘

"What is it now, idiot?"

Kusuo knew (Y/N) really well: too well that he is very aware of what every action of her means. Even the pen markings that are currently scribbled horribly on her chin is not an exception.

(Y/N) admires the feeling of the cold black ink against her skin. Whenever she finds herself trapped in a situation where heavy ponderings are in need, she taps the tip of her fountain pen on her chin repeatedly. This then would end up smudging on the said part of her face yet she wouldn't even bother to check her self out and have an idea on how she would look like right after.

The afternoon sky is a beguiling mix of pink and orange, its calm winds excusing their way to enter the vacant classroom through the gaps in the window grills. Some chalk dust danced quite merrily in the mid-air as the (h/c)-nette pressed her hand on the blackboard for her not to stumble while returning the eraser. Her eyes were still strained on the wall a couple of meters away from her yet her lips were now pursed into a playful frown while detecting the presence of a certain teenage boy.

"Ah Kusuo! Hey take a seat! I will tell you what happened to me today!"

(Y/N)'s fingers swiftly glided on the chair's arm as she gently plopped herself on it. Miraculously, Kusuo allowed himself to submit to the girl's request and sat across her. The fact that her thoughts were as silent as the academy along with the quiet buzzing of the setting sun persuaded him to stick his nose and find out what was bugging her.

"We have this homework in literature in which we should write a poem about our favorites. The shittiest thing is that my teacher advised me to make a new one! Do you have any idea how frustrated that got me?"

"Yare yare. You tell me, (Y/N)... You look frustrated all the time. Ah, more like constipated actually."

The (h/c)-nette ignored the comment thrown into her, her arms now folded in between her chest to emphasize her words of agitation. It was hard to take her seriously, especially that the ink blots were still present on her chin.

"That sucks... I really worked hard in making that poem about Yen bills, you know? I took time describing their texture and how you seem to get a paper cut if you gripped on them tightly. I probably shouldn't have said that they have an intoxicating smell. My teacher is probably scared of me now." 

Kusuo plainly observed her evident movements of dismay as her hands flew in all of the directions. The once hushed aura that the room was emitting slowly dispersed into an irritating sound, the creaking of the chair that she was sitting on overpowering his auditory senses.

"It turns out we have to write about our favorite person. Isn't it silly?"

(Y/N)'s voice contorted into a fading tune upon realizing that she has fell into a deep thought. Come to think of it, she hasn't actually immersed herself into identifying which individual she considers as her sanctuary; someone who'll wrap their arms around her shoulders whenever she's feeling blue.

The teenage boy irked his brow as he saw the young lady seemingly shifting the direction of her head from left to right until it landed on him. Despite this, her sight was still strained on his torso. He was caught off guard when a certain warmth engulfed the fragility of his hands and it was then he realized that her fingers have already clutched on it. 

It would always be a mystery for him on how he got used to (Y/N)'s talking without looking at him directly. Although, there are a lot of people who finds it uncomfortable to stare at someone's irises while muttering, the fact that he has known her for almost a decade already excludes this situation from that detail.

Oftentimes he would wonder how her eyes would look like if the sun's mesmerizing beam would shower on her, or how his reflection would show on her cornea if ever he was given a chance to gaze at it. He wasn't really sure why these were the questions that he is asking himself at this very moment.

Kusuo sure is a curious young lad.

"Hey, Kusuo.. Could you help me identify my favorite person?"

The boy simply sighed upon noting (Y/N)'s movement which is leaning closer towards him in anticipation for his response. He can't really generate a reply to her since he was, for some odd reason, reluctant. An icky feeling seems to be terrorizing his stomach as he tried to dilute a certain name away from his mind; the name that he wants to say as an answer to her question.

"Yuss! I finally have an idea! I'll be writing about this guy who I want to hold every single day in my life."

She finally detached her grasp on his hand, the freezing empty wind of the century-old classroom immediately taking over his now free skin. This caused Kusuo to flinch as the new feeling of coldness has completely devoured his hand.

(Y/N) cautiously pressed her palm against the arm of the chair and guided herself into standing up. She then raised her fist into the mid air triumphantly, earning an annoyed yet entertained eye-roll from the strawberry-tinted haired boy.

"I'm going to make a poem about that dude printed in the 10,000 yen bill!"