blessed with beauty and rage.

welcome there ! im moonee and im writing for ya

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪ - scorpio - she/her - shoujo enjoyer !

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𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

A LA UNE : not allowed !

summary : bumping into the boyfriend of a really really jealous girlfriend would make your life hell

warnings : bullying, emotional distress, loneliness, confrontation, negative self-perception, crying/tears, conflict, physical anger.

word count : 3.4k

a/n : first fanfic of my bby ! luv him, and sorry it’s quite hate on Hori… if you don’t like it leave kindly pls !!

-> pt1 -> pt2 -> pt3

The final minutes of lunch break ticked away as you made your way back to the classroom. Your stomach felt hollow, not just from lack of food, but from the emotional toll of the day. The bento box in your bag was now empty, its contents disposed of in a moment of quiet desperation.

As you approached the classroom door, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the inevitable discomfort of returning to a room full of people who either ignored or misunderstood you. But nothing could have prepared you for the sight that greeted you as you stepped inside.

There, perched on your desk as if it were a casual meeting spot, sat Hori and two of her friends. Their laughter rang out, echoing in your ears like a taunt. Your eyes widened as you noticed their careless postures, their bodies sprawled across your carefully organized notebooks and textbooks.

For a moment, rage flared within you, hot and bright. Your father's voice echoed in your mind, reminding you of the self-defense moves he'd taught you "just in case." Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, fingernails digging into your palms.

But you caught yourself, forcing a slow, deep breath. 'No,' you thought. 'That's not who I am. That's not who I want to be.'

With deliberate calm, you approached your desk. The girls' chatter died down as they noticed your approach, but they made no move to vacate your space.

"Excuse me," you said, your voice quiet but firm. "I need to get to my desk."

Hori looked at you, a flicker of recognition crossing her face. "Oh, it's you," she said, her tone dismissive. "We're kind of in the middle of something here."

You felt your jaw clench, but you maintained your composure. "Please," you said, "my things are there. I need to prepare for class."

Reluctantly, the girls slid off your desk, moving aside with exaggerated sighs. You approached, your eyes taking in the disarray of your usually neat workspace. Pencils rolled to the floor as you set your bag down, and you noticed with a sinking heart that the corner of your math notebook was bent, the pages crumpled.

With quick, efficient movements, you began to straighten your belongings. Your hands trembled slightly as you smoothed out the creased pages, a lump forming in your throat.

As you worked, you were unaware of the pair of eyes watching you intently from across the room.

Miyamura sat at his desk, his gaze fixed on your every movement. He noted the tension in your shoulders, the careful control in your actions that spoke of suppressed emotion.

'She's upset,' he thought, watching as you meticulously reorganized your desk. 'But she's trying so hard not to show it.'

He observed the way you gently caressed the bent corner of your notebook, as if apologizing to it. The care you took with your possessions struck a chord with him, reminding him of how he treasured the few things that were truly his own.

Your movements became more agitated as you searched through your bag, eventually pulling out the now empty bento box. Miyamura's brow furrowed as he watched you tuck it away with sharp, angry motions.

'She didn't eat,' he realized with a pang of concern. He remembered seeing you sitting alone during lunch, but he'd assumed… what? That you preferred solitude? That you were okay?

As the final bell rang and other students began filing back to their seats, Miyamura found his gaze still drawn to you. He watched as you took a deep, steadying breath, squaring your shoulders as if preparing for battle.

In that moment, Miyamura felt a strong urge to reach out, to say something, anything that might ease the obvious pain you were trying so hard to hide. But before he could act on the impulse, the teacher entered, calling the class to order.

As you sat down, your eyes briefly met Miyamura's. Then you looked away, your face resuming its carefully neutral expression.

Miyamura turned to face the front of the class, but his mind remained on you. He couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had just happened, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

As the lesson began, the classroom settled into its usual rhythm. But for Miyamura, and unknown to him, for you as well, something had shifted. The air seemed charged with unspoken words and unrealized possibilities.

The final bell of the day rang, signaling the end of classes. You gathered your belongings slowly, watching as your classmates rushed out, eager to start their after-school activities or head home. You took your time, preferring to leave once the hallways had cleared a bit.

As you made your way through the now-quiet corridors, your mind wandered, replaying the events of the day. The confrontation with Hori, the loneliness of lunch, the frustration of finding your desk occupied - it all swirled in your thoughts, leaving you feeling drained and hollow.

You were so lost in your musings that you almost missed the voices coming from a classroom you were passing. The door was slightly ajar, and as you approached, snippets of conversation drifted out.

"Did you see that weird girl today? The one who bumped into Miyamura?"

Your steps faltered as you recognized your own description. Against your better judgment, you paused, listening.

"Oh yeah, what a freak. Who does she think she is?"

"I know, right? Always so quiet and creepy. No wonder she doesn't have any friends."

"Bet she did it on purpose just to touch Miyamura. As if he'd ever look twice at someone like her!"

The words hit you like physical blows, each one cutting deeper than the last. You stood there, frozen, as tears welled up in your eyes and began to silently roll down your cheeks. Your expression remained oddly blank, shock overriding your ability to react outwardly to the pain you felt inside.

You were about to hear more when suddenly, everything went muffled. Warm hands gently covered your ears, blocking out the cruel words. Startled, you gasped and jumped slightly, turning around quickly to face whoever had approached you so silently.

Your eyes widened as you found yourself face to face with Izumi Miyamura. He stood there, hands still raised from where they had been covering your ears, a look of surprise and concern etched across his features. His eyes locked onto yours, and then widened as he noticed the tears streaking your cheeks.

"I… I'm sorry," he said softly, lowering his hands. "I didn't mean to startle you. I just… I didn't want you to hear that."

You stared at him, unable to form words. Your mind raced, trying to process this unexpected turn of events. Why was he here? Why did he care?

Miyamura shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, clearly unsure of what to do next. He glanced at the classroom door, then back at you, his expression a mix of anger and sympathy.

"Those girls… they don't know what they're talking about," he said, his voice low but firm. "You shouldn't listen to people like that."

You blinked, more tears escaping as you did. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, a small, choked sob escaped your lips.

Miyamura's face softened. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, offering it to you hesitantly. "Here," he said. "Um… do you want to go somewhere and talk? Or… or I could walk you home if you'd prefer?"

You stood there, frozen in indecision, the handkerchief clutched in your trembling hand. Miyamura waited patiently, his presence a stark contrast to the loneliness you'd felt all day.

In that moment, standing in the quiet hallway with Miyamura, you felt something shift. It was small, barely perceptible, but it was there - a tiny spark of hope in the darkness that had surrounded you for so long.

You looked at the handkerchief in your hand, then back at Miyamura. His kind gesture had caught you off guard, leaving you feeling both grateful and uncomfortable. You took a shaky breath, trying to regain your composure.

"Thank you," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You dabbed at your eyes with the handkerchief, the soft fabric absorbing your tears. "But… where's Hori? Shouldn't you be with her?"

Miyamura's expression shifted, a mix of surprise and something else - was it sadness? - crossing his features. "Hori had a student council meeting," he explained. "I was just heading home when I…" He trailed off, gesturing vaguely towards the classroom where the girls were still talking.

You nodded, understanding. A moment of silence stretched between you, filled with unspoken words and uncertainties.

Finally, you mustered up the courage to speak again. "That's very kind of you, Miyamura-kun, but I… I should go home." You held out the handkerchief, intending to return it.

Miyamura's brow furrowed. "Are you sure? I really don't mind walking with you. After what those girls said…"

You shook your head, cutting him off gently. "No, it's okay. Really. I wouldn't want you to be seen with someone like me. And if Hori saw us…" You let the implication hang in the air, remembering the morning's confrontation all too vividly.

Miyamura fell silent, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made you want to look away. But there was something in his gaze that held you there - a deep understanding that you couldn't quite fathom.

In his mind, Miyamura was transported back to his own past. Your words echoed his own thoughts from not so long ago: "Don't be seen with someone like me." "You shouldn't hang out with me." He remembered the fear of dragging others down, of being a burden. The pain of isolation and the belief that he wasn't worthy of friendship or kindness.

As he looked at you, Miyamura saw a reflection of his former self - the quiet, withdrawn person he used to be, always trying to fade into the background. He felt a strong urge to reach out, to tell you that you were wrong, that you were worth so much more than you believed. But the words stuck in his throat, held back by the memory of how hard it had been for him to accept such truths about himself.

Instead, he took a deep breath, his gaze softening. "I understand," he said quietly, the weight of unspoken experiences heavy in his voice. "But… are you sure you don't want company on your way home? Just… just as far as you're comfortable with?"

He didn't reach out, didn't push, but something in his stance conveyed an openness, an offer of companionship without pressure or judgment.

You stood there, caught off guard by the unexpected kindness in Miyamura's eyes. Part of you wanted to retreat, to stick to the familiar safety of solitude. But another part, a part that had been quiet for so long, whispered that maybe this was a chance worth taking.

As you looked at Miyamura, you found yourself at a crossroads. Whatever choice you made next would change things, for better or worse. The question was, were you brave enough to find out which?

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Okay," you said softly, your voice barely audible. "Maybe just… just to the school gate?"

A small smile touched Miyamura's lips, a mix of relief and something warmer. "Sure," he nodded. "To the school gate."

As you both were about to take a step, a loud voice suddenly echoed through the corridor.

"Miyamura!"

You froze, recognizing Hori's voice immediately. Your heart rate spiked, panic setting in as you heard quick footsteps approaching from behind.

Miyamura tensed beside you, his eyes widening slightly as he glanced over his shoulder. He turned back to you, conflict clear in his expression.

"I…" he started, but you were already shaking your head.

"It's okay," you whispered, taking a small step back. "You should go."

Miyamura opened his mouth as if to protest, but Hori's voice called out again, closer this time.

"Miyamura, there you are! Who were you talking to?"

You could hear the curiosity and slight edge in her tone. Without waiting for Miyamura's response, you turned and began to walk away, your steps measured and deliberate despite the urge to run.

"Oh, no one," you heard Miyamura say behind you, his voice casual but with an undercurrent of something you couldn't quite identify. "Just thought I saw someone I knew, but I was mistaken."

You felt a pang in your chest at his words. 'No one.' That's what you were, weren't you? No one of consequence, no one worth mentioning. Even though you knew Miyamura was trying to protect you, the words still stung.

As you rounded the corner, you heard Hori's skeptical reply fading behind you. "Really? I could've sworn I saw you talking to someone."

You didn't stay to hear Miyamura's response. Instead, you continued walking, your pace quickening slightly as you made your way down the stairs and out of the school building.

The cool afternoon air hit your face as you stepped outside, a stark contrast to the warmth that had briefly blossomed inside you during your conversation with Miyamura. You clutched your bag tighter, realizing you still held his handkerchief in your hand.

As you approached the school gate, you paused, looking down at the small piece of fabric. It was a tangible reminder of the brief moment of kindness in an otherwise difficult day. Part of you wanted to run back and return it, to see if that spark of connection could be rekindled. But the memory of Hori's voice, the fear of another confrontation, held you back.

With a deep sigh, you tucked the handkerchief into your pocket and pushed yourself through the gate, starting your solitary walk home. The weight of the day's events pressed down on you, but somewhere, buried deep beneath the hurt and loneliness, was a tiny spark. A spark of something that felt dangerously like hope.

As you walked away from the school, you couldn't help but wonder what might have been if Hori hadn't appeared. Would you and Miyamura have talked more? Would you have found a friend in him? Or was it all just a fleeting moment of kindness, never meant to last?

These thoughts swirled in your mind as you made your way home, the school and Miyamura fading into the distance behind you.

--

The walk to Hori's house was filled with her cheerful chatter, but Miyamura found his mind wandering. He nodded and hummed in response at appropriate intervals, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the girl he'd encountered in the hallway - her tear-stained face, her quiet resignation, the way she'd walked away without looking back.

As they entered the Hori household, the familiar routine began. They called out their arrival, slipped off their shoes, and made their way to Hori's room. The house was quiet; Hori's younger brother was still at his after-school activities, and her parents were at work.

"Make yourself comfortable," Hori said, gesturing to her bed as she set her bag down. "I'll go grab us some snacks."

Miyamura nodded, settling onto the edge of the bed. He looked around the room, taking in the familiar posters, the neatly arranged desk, the photos of Hori with her friends. Everything was as it always was, and yet…

Hori returned with a plate of cookies and two glasses of iced tea. "Here we go," she said brightly, setting them down on the small table. "So, what should we do? Study? Watch a movie?"

Miyamura shrugged, forcing a small smile. "Whatever you'd like," he replied.

Hori tilted her head, studying him. "Is everything okay? You've been quiet since we left school."

For a moment, Miyamura considered telling her about the girl, about the cruel words he'd overheard, about the way it had stirred up memories of his own past. But something held him back. Instead, he shook his head. "Just tired, I guess. It's been a long day."

Hori nodded sympathetically. "I know what you mean. That student council meeting dragged on forever." She launched into a detailed account of the meeting, peppered with complaints about certain members and jokes about others.

As she spoke, Miyamura found himself watching her, really looking at her. He took in her animated expressions, the way her hands moved as she talked, the passion in her voice as she described her ideas for upcoming school events. She was beautiful, vibrant, full of life. Everything he'd always admired about her.

And yet, for the first time, he felt a disconnect. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered, 'Would she understand? If I told her about the girl, about my past, would she really get it?'

The thought startled him. Of course, Hori knew about his past, about the bullying and the loneliness. But did she truly understand? The memory of her angry outburst that morning, the way she'd pushed the girl, flashed through his mind.

"Miyamura? Are you listening?" Hori's voice cut through his thoughts.

He blinked, realizing he'd completely lost track of what she was saying. "Sorry," he mumbled. "What were you saying?"

Hori sighed, a hint of frustration in her voice. "I was asking if you wanted to help with the cultural festival planning. The committee could use some extra hands."

"Oh," Miyamura said, trying to refocus. "Sure, I guess. If you think I'd be helpful."

Hori beamed at him, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. "Great! You're the best, Miyamura."

As she pulled away, Miyamura felt a twinge in his chest. It wasn't the usual flutter of happiness he associated with Hori's affection. Instead, it felt almost… hollow.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of homework, idle chat, and shared snacks. But through it all, Miyamura couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. His responses felt mechanical, his smiles a bit forced. And all the while, his mind kept drifting back to the quiet girl in the hallway, wondering if she'd made it home okay, if she was as alone as she seemed.

As the sun began to set, Miyamura gathered his things to leave. Hori walked him to the door, wrapping him in a tight hug before he left.

"See you tomorrow," she said, smiling up at him.

"Yeah," he replied, managing a small smile in return. "See you tomorrow."

As he walked home in the fading light, Miyamura found himself grappling with unfamiliar emotions. The warmth and comfort he usually felt after spending time with Hori was muted, overshadowed by a growing sense of unease. For the first time since they'd started dating, he wondered if there was a part of himself - a part of his past - that Hori could never truly understand.

And with that thought came another, more troubling one: was the love he thought he felt for Hori as deep and unconditional as he'd believed? Or was it possible that, like the fading sunlight, it too was beginning to dim?

now you suck

Ⓡ kicxvu all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

taglist :

summary : bumping into the boyfriend of a really really jealous girlfriend would make your life hell

warnings :

word count : 2k

a/n : first fanfic of my bby ! luv him, and sorry it’s quite hate on Hori… if you don’t like it leave kindly pls !!

-> pt1 -> pt2

Life had always been a quiet affair for you. Each day blended into the next, a monochrome tapestry of routine and solitude. School was no exception - a place where you existed more as a shadow than a person, drifting through hallways and classrooms with barely a ripple in your wake.

It wasn't that you disliked people. No, it was more that you had grown accustomed to the gentle hum of loneliness, finding comfort in the predictability of your own company, at least you were forced to enjoy your own company. Your classmates' names and faces blurred together, a sea of unfamiliar familiarity that you navigated with practiced indifference.

This particular morning started like any other. You rose with the sun, mechanically prepared for school, and set off on your usual route. The spring air was crisp, carrying the scent of cherry blossoms that lined the street. As you walked, your mind wandered, lost in the labyrinth of your thoughts.

You barely registered the school gates as you passed through them, your feet carrying you on autopilot. The chatter of other students washed over you, a meaningless backdrop to your internal musings. You were contemplating the English assignment due next week, mentally cataloging the books you'd need to reference, when it happened.

One moment you were lost in thought, the next you felt the solid impact of colliding with another person. The shock jolted you back to reality, your eyes widening as you stumbled backward.

"Oh!" A male voice exclaimed, surprise evident in his tone.

As you regained your balance, you finally focused on the person you'd walked into. It was a boy, probably around your age, with dark hair that fell softly around his face. His blue eyes were wide with surprise, one hand half-raised as if he'd been about to steady you. There was something vaguely familiar about him, like a face you'd seen in passing a hundred times but never truly looked at.

Next to him stood a girl with long, light brown hair and an expression that rapidly shifted from surprise to anger. You had a fleeting thought that you might have seen her before too, but your notoriously unreliable memory provided no name or context.

You opened your mouth, an apology forming on your lips, when the girl's voice cut through the air like a knife.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, her eyes flashing. "Don't you dare touch my boyfriend!"

The words hit you like a physical force, leaving you reeling. Confusion clouded your mind as you tried to process what was happening. Boyfriend? You hadn't meant to touch anyone. It was an accident. Why was she so angry?

Your face, usually a mask of calm indifference, betrayed your bewilderment. You blinked rapidly, mouth slightly agape as you struggled to form a response.

The boy - apparently her boyfriend - turned to the girl, his expression a mix of embarrassment and irritation. "Hori, it was just an accident," he said, his voice low but firm. "There's no need to-"

But the girl - Hori - wasn't listening. She took a step forward, her hands balled into fists at her sides. "Are you even listening? I said, stay away from him!"

You flinched at the volume of her voice, acutely aware of the curious stares of other students beginning to gather around you. Your heart raced in your chest, a caged bird beating against your ribs. This was exactly the kind of attention you always strived to avoid.

Summoning your courage, you tried to speak, to explain, to diffuse the situation somehow. But before you could utter a word, you felt hands on your shoulders, pushing you backward with surprising force.

You stumbled, nearly losing your footing. The shock of the physical contact left you breathless, your mind reeling. In all your years of fading into the background, you'd never experienced anything like this.

The boy - Hori's boyfriend - looked positively mortified now. His face had gone pale, and he reached out towards Hori, clearly trying to calm her down. "Hori, stop it! You're overreacting. It was just an accident, okay?"

But his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Hori stood there, glaring at you with an intensity that made you want to sink into the ground and disappear.

You stood frozen, your body tense, your mind a whirlwind of confusion and fear. You weren't used to dealing with such strong emotions - especially not from others. Your own feelings were usually kept carefully in check, hidden behind a facade of quiet reservation. But now, in the face of this unexpected confrontation, you felt your carefully constructed walls beginning to crumble.

Your eyes darted between Hori, her boyfriend, and the growing crowd of onlookers. The urge to run, to escape this bewildering situation, was almost overwhelming. But something kept you rooted to the spot - perhaps the lingering shock, or some deep-seated instinct telling you that running would only make things worse.

As the tension hung in the air, Miyamura's mind was in turmoil. The sight of you, standing there looking lost and confused, triggered a flood of memories from his own past. He saw himself in you - the quiet, reserved child he once was, the target of bullies, the one who faded into the background to avoid attention.

His eyes traced your hunched posture, the way you clutched your bag like a shield, the barely concealed fear in your eyes. It was like looking into a mirror of his younger self, and the realization hit him like a physical blow.

Hori's angry words faded into the background as Miyamura's thoughts raced. He remembered the loneliness of his childhood, the sting of cruel words, the bruises from physical bullying. He thought of the piercings hidden beneath his uniform, each one a testament to his journey of self-discovery and resilience.

In that moment, Miyamura felt a deep, visceral horror at Hori's behavior. The girl he cared for, usually so kind and understanding, was acting like the very bullies that had made his life miserable. He wanted to reach out to you, to offer some word of comfort or understanding, but found himself frozen, caught between his past and present.

Your quiet, almost emotionless apology snapped Miyamura back to reality. He watched, a lump forming in his throat, as you quickly walked away from Hori's accusing gaze. Your retreating figure seemed to blur with the image of his younger self, walking away from yet another confrontation, another day of feeling invisible and misunderstood.

As you disappeared around the corner, Miyamura felt a surge of empathy and regret. He should have done more, said more. He knew all too well the pain of being singled out, of being the focus of unwanted attention.

"Hori," he said softly, turning to his girlfriend. "That wasn't right. She didn't do anything wrong."

Hori, still bristling with indignation, opened her mouth to argue, but something in Miyamura's expression made her pause. She'd rarely seen him look so serious, so… hurt.

"Let's just go to class," Miyamura said, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. As they walked, he couldn't shake the image of you from his mind. He wondered about your story, about the experiences that had shaped you into the quiet, reserved person he'd glimpsed in that brief encounter.

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly before them as they made their way to class. Miyamura's steps felt heavy, weighed down by memories and regret. He could hear snippets of conversation from other students, whispers about the scene that had just unfolded. It made him feel sick.

As they approached the classroom, Miyamura caught sight of you again. You were just ahead of them, your shoulders hunched, your pace quick as if trying to escape. He wanted to call out to you, to apologize, to offer some word of comfort. But the words stuck in his throat.

Entering the classroom behind you, Miyamura felt a sense of dread. This was your safe space, he realized, the place where you could blend into the background and avoid attention. And now, because of what had happened, all eyes would be on you.

He watched as you made your way to your seat, your movements stiff and uncomfortable under the curious stares of your classmates. Miyamura felt a pang in his chest, remembering countless similar moments from his own past.

As he sat down at his desk, Miyamura couldn't help but think that this day, which had started so ordinarily, had become a turning point. For you, for him, for his relationship with Hori. He glanced back at you, noting the way you seemed to be trying to make yourself as small as possible in your seat.

In that moment, Miyamura made a silent promise to himself. He would find a way to make this right. He would show you that not everyone was like the bullies from his past, that there were people who could see beyond the quiet exterior to the person within.

As the teacher entered and class began, Miyamura's mind was far from the lesson. Instead, he was lost in thoughts of past and present, of hidden scars and silent struggles, and of the unexpected connection he now felt with the quiet girl who sat behind him.

As the lunch bell rang, the classroom erupted into a flurry of activity. Students rose from their seats, chattering excitedly about their plans for the break. You remained seated, watching as Hori practically dragged Miyamura and her friends out of the room, her voice carrying back to you.

"Come on, let's go to the roof! I'm starving!" Hori exclaimed, her earlier anger seemingly forgotten.

"Hori, slow down," Miyamura's softer voice replied, a note of concern evident.

Their voices faded as they disappeared down the hallway, leaving you alone in the now-quiet classroom. The silence enveloped you like a familiar, if unwelcome, friend.

You reached into your bag, pulling out the bento box your mother had carefully prepared that morning. Setting it on your desk, you stared at it, feeling a lump form in your throat.

This was your life, distilled into a single moment. Alone, always alone, even in a room full of people. The realization hit you anew, as fresh and painful as if it were the first time you'd acknowledged it.

You felt a hot tear slide down your cheek and let out a quiet, bitter chuckle. "Pathetic," you whispered to yourself, the word hanging in the air like a judgment.

Your mind began to spiral, thoughts tumbling over each other in a familiar, depressing cascade.

'What's wrong with me?' you wondered, your inner voice tinged with self-loathing. 'Why can't I be like them? Why can't I laugh and chat and make friends so easily?'

You thought about Hori and her group, imagining them on the roof now, sharing food and jokes, creating memories you'd never be part of. The loneliness felt like a physical ache in your chest.

'I'm invisible,' you thought, your fingers tracing patterns on the desk. 'No, worse than invisible. When people do notice me, it's only to yell or push me away.'

The memory of the morning's confrontation flashed through your mind, bringing a fresh wave of shame and hurt.

'I don't belong here. I don't belong anywhere. What chance do I have at friendship, at love, at any kind of normal life?'

Your thoughts turned to Miyamura. For a brief moment, you'd thought you'd seen understanding in his eyes. But that was probably just your imagination, wasn't it? Why would someone like him ever notice someone like you?

You wiped your tears away roughly with the back of your hand, angry at yourself for crying, for feeling, for caring.

Looking down at your unopened bento, you felt a wave of nausea. The thought of eating made your stomach churn. You pushed the box away slightly, your appetite completely gone.

The classroom remained silent, the only sound your own shaky breathing as you tried to compose yourself. You stared out the window, watching clouds drift by in a sky that seemed impossibly blue and cheerful, a stark contrast to the gray world you felt trapped in.

As you sat there, alone with your thoughts and untouched lunch, you couldn't help but wonder if things would ever change, if you'd ever find a place where you truly belonged. The answer, as always, seemed depressingly clear.

well, you may not like it but you better learn how ‘cause it’s your turn now

please take a look at my rules before any requests

⍤ : angst ; ⍨ : smut ; ☻ : fluff.

— FICS :

— HEADCANONS :

— MINI SERIES :

not allowed ! {izumi miyamura x reader}

— DRABBLES :