miyabi
𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨
how he's feeling...
tired, distressed; fake it 'til you make it
what he's wearing...
uniform
where he's at...
campus
alfie
the class clown
She always cared for the well being of others, but seldom was the care when it came to herself. The thought killed him, made him uneasy to the point that it made his chest hurt, but the wave of whatever this feeling was seemed to dissipate the moment she’d laid a hand on his head; touch was a powerful thing, how one’s touch could soothe another in a matter of seconds, without needing an exchange of words. Unfortunately for him, it seemed only friendly—granted, he didn’t expect more from it. No, they were friends, only friends, and he’d convinced himself that that was the only route that this would ever go in.
His face, however, shared a touch of calm beyond a storm that brewed.
Her words tickled the air, an explanation as to why Sebom had been so distraught making his blood boil again. Alfie was right to suspect some sort of relation to Namgil, even if he hadn’t done said thing directly. “I’ll take care of it, Binnie, trust,” the expression on his face was masked by a quick turn; Sebom may have felt fine now, but who knew what the future entailed.
School sessions often filled up time with a constant drone from their teacher, something that Alfie had often tuned out until he couldn’t. A few disappointed glances here and there—he’d fallen a bit behind in the textbook, staring off to wherever he could as long as he could escape the grip of reality. In the corner, a pair of students who seemed to whisper among themselves, in another corner, one asleep, but the teacher hadn’t quite noticed; towards the front of the class, more students whose eyes were glued to the session, hands scribbling into notebooks like they were programmed to do so, almost lifelessly; and on his desk, alongside a few papers, were crumbs from the pastry he’d snuck between the times the teacher had turned to write.
Sunlight trickled through the windows, in between deeply colored clouds, shining against a few faces whose eyes couldn’t take the brightness. They squinted and so did he, mostly out of habit rather than imitation. “Ya, Alfie. You got a pencil? Mine broke,” a whisper interrupted his train of thought, not that he had much of one to begin with.
“You should’ve thought of that before you got here,” Alfie whispered back, playfully annoyed at the fact that someone had even bothered to ask him—not with his constant lack of writing utensils and papers, today was an exception, but one could’ve predicted that he didn’t have any anyways. He reaches into his bag, sliding the pencil onto the classmate’s desk before shaking his head, “I better get it back. I’m not rich, y’know.”
They nod back, aggressively clicking it until the lead makes its appearance. And from then on came the ear-ringing sound of squeaking lead against paper. “Jeez, can you write a lil’ louder?” That was it, Alfie seemed much more irritable than usual—may it have been the fact that he couldn’t do anything about Sebom’s state, the fact that he just genuinely couldn’t stand Namgil, or the fact that he’d been overwhelmed by just about anything, he didn’t know, nor did he care for an explanation of his inner workings.
The ticking of the clock leant him no favors, it filled the silence, but made time feel like it was going much slower. But lunch had rolled around, finally, and the pencil had made its return to his desk. He swiped the crumbs onto a stray piece of paper before balling it up to throw away, eyes scanning around the classroom before he gulps, looking in Eunrin’s direction. “So, truce?” Leaning over, he taps the eraser of his pencil on her desk, brows raised with anticipation, hoping that the answer would be “yes, truce. I won’t ever mad dog you again, Alfie.” or something along those lines.
Sebom seemed like she was in a rush, dashing off to wherever, which had only piqued his interest even more. It wasn’t often that she did that, usually sitting with him and Yubin for lunch time; something different was happening, not that he could pick up what it could be, but it made him uneasy. “She sure seems okay? Weirdly enough,” brown eyes looked over to whispering counterparts once again, a few giggles in between with smiles spread across rosy cheeks.
His face, however, shared a touch of calm beyond a storm that brewed.
Her words tickled the air, an explanation as to why Sebom had been so distraught making his blood boil again. Alfie was right to suspect some sort of relation to Namgil, even if he hadn’t done said thing directly. “I’ll take care of it, Binnie, trust,” the expression on his face was masked by a quick turn; Sebom may have felt fine now, but who knew what the future entailed.
***
School sessions often filled up time with a constant drone from their teacher, something that Alfie had often tuned out until he couldn’t. A few disappointed glances here and there—he’d fallen a bit behind in the textbook, staring off to wherever he could as long as he could escape the grip of reality. In the corner, a pair of students who seemed to whisper among themselves, in another corner, one asleep, but the teacher hadn’t quite noticed; towards the front of the class, more students whose eyes were glued to the session, hands scribbling into notebooks like they were programmed to do so, almost lifelessly; and on his desk, alongside a few papers, were crumbs from the pastry he’d snuck between the times the teacher had turned to write.
Sunlight trickled through the windows, in between deeply colored clouds, shining against a few faces whose eyes couldn’t take the brightness. They squinted and so did he, mostly out of habit rather than imitation. “Ya, Alfie. You got a pencil? Mine broke,” a whisper interrupted his train of thought, not that he had much of one to begin with.
“You should’ve thought of that before you got here,” Alfie whispered back, playfully annoyed at the fact that someone had even bothered to ask him—not with his constant lack of writing utensils and papers, today was an exception, but one could’ve predicted that he didn’t have any anyways. He reaches into his bag, sliding the pencil onto the classmate’s desk before shaking his head, “I better get it back. I’m not rich, y’know.”
They nod back, aggressively clicking it until the lead makes its appearance. And from then on came the ear-ringing sound of squeaking lead against paper. “Jeez, can you write a lil’ louder?” That was it, Alfie seemed much more irritable than usual—may it have been the fact that he couldn’t do anything about Sebom’s state, the fact that he just genuinely couldn’t stand Namgil, or the fact that he’d been overwhelmed by just about anything, he didn’t know, nor did he care for an explanation of his inner workings.
The ticking of the clock leant him no favors, it filled the silence, but made time feel like it was going much slower. But lunch had rolled around, finally, and the pencil had made its return to his desk. He swiped the crumbs onto a stray piece of paper before balling it up to throw away, eyes scanning around the classroom before he gulps, looking in Eunrin’s direction. “So, truce?” Leaning over, he taps the eraser of his pencil on her desk, brows raised with anticipation, hoping that the answer would be “yes, truce. I won’t ever mad dog you again, Alfie.” or something along those lines.
Sebom seemed like she was in a rush, dashing off to wherever, which had only piqued his interest even more. It wasn’t often that she did that, usually sitting with him and Yubin for lunch time; something different was happening, not that he could pick up what it could be, but it made him uneasy. “She sure seems okay? Weirdly enough,” brown eyes looked over to whispering counterparts once again, a few giggles in between with smiles spread across rosy cheeks.
♡coded by uxie♡