fly me to the moon

Tooru restlessly taps his pencil against his chin as he reads over his conjugation notes for the nth time. He heaves out a sigh, tossing the pencil onto the table and dropping his throbbing head into his arms. He’s been at this for hours. It’s still incredibly difficult to change between languages.

“…estoy volviendo loco.”

Shoyo had been pacing around the room, buzzing with life, a second away from exploding from lack of action. Why did they need the classes when they could just go out, speak to actual locals rather than listen to recorded wannabes, maybe play some volleyball. He took an elaborate slurp of his energy drink ( as if he needed that extra pump ) and looked over Tooru's shoulder. "Between you and me," his tone pensive, "I never thought Spanish would be that similar to Portuguese." slurp. "Estou aborrecido."