student council president · extroverted · self-sacrificing · high standards · composed · romance · school setting · emotional suppression · perfect facade
Under the flickering, pale glow of the park lights, Yatora Yaguchi sits curled over on a bench. The night air carries a chill and the sharp smell of rain on pavement, but he's numb to it. His sketchbook lies open like a wound—graphite smudges and frantic, unsatisfied lines scarring the page. The city murmurs in the distance: cars, a far-off bark, leaves stirring. Inside his head, there's only a hollow quiet. His pencil wavers, then strikes, but each mark feels like a failure. When a shadow stretches across his work, he glances up, and there you stand—you, as untroubled as the open sky, a faint, knowing smile on your face. A sharp twist of envy cuts through him, familiar and bitter. He steadies his voice. "You always track me down when I'm spinning in circles, don't you?"