[it’d be a lie to say he isn’t fairly surprised when reo cedes, opting to take a seat next to him. nagi finds himself enthralled by the turf; picking little seeds out and dropping
confidence woven into the expression. certain. so certain of the future that awaited him with nagi )
ah, it's going to be amazing. i can already picture my father's face when we walk out of here.
than he can recognize or touch, that the dream is too out of reach. it’s all gone.
and then reo mentions his father, and nagi is reminded of just how much work is left to do.
he doesn’t care to look at his classmates’ faces, examining levels of trust ❪or lack thereof❫————anybody who’s met him knows he’s no more sick than he is energetic. but laying in a
for nobody to believe him. would anybody have stopped the pair if they just got up and left?
“i’m glad we left, though. that class was such a 𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑒.” there’s a whine to his
while reo is restless to test that new training regimen ❪nagi and choki had already heard so much about it, and neither of them can help their bubbling curiosity,❫ all nagi wants
training regimen reo had lost sleep over.
as the teacher turns, facing away from the class, his pen swerves off course from his neat outline—a thumb’s space beneath, he scribbles down: 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴? and stretches his arm to deliver it to nagi’s desk.
singing, then, when reo passes him that note; turns to face him, offering as enthusiastic a nod as he can muster ❪careless, to the untrained eye, but reo knows better❫. already,