childhood friends to strangers to lovers.
will this stubborn psychic finally accept his feelings? will he continue to push them away? or will it be too late before he gives her his answer?
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
- saiki smiled for a second, as if he found my thoughts amusing.
≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾
( y / n )
KINDERGARTEN WAS PROBABLY when i started painting. obviously i wasn't good. i grabbed tubes of paint whenever it was art class and squeezed them onto the paper, causing it to seep through the thin sheet and get all over the table. it didn't help that i was aggressively rubbing the paint all over the paper with my tiny hands.
the teacher liked that i was creative but got tired of cleaning up the mess i made on the table. it was hard to clean up so they made me use watercolor instead— but watercolor relies on technique more so i didn't like it and threw a tantrum, of course.
ironic how watercolor is my favourite medium of art right now. i like how the colors blend perfectly and how translucent they looked with every stroke of the brush. watercolor also makes it easy to change something if you make a mistake and you could change the consistency with just water.
kindergarten me didn't have time to execute whatever was on her mind with watercolor, she would probably punch my legs if she finds out the medium she hated the most was the method her older self used.
either way, i was very artistic as a kid. in third to sixth grade, i would prefer to draw instead. sketching for everyone in the classroom, people asking to draw them, the person people would beg to partner up with when there's drawing involved (the attention is nice but my love for it was short lived since it got annoying— so annoying that i always asked to work alone).
drawing and art was my only forte apart from piano. i don't remember much on how i took up the elegant instrument. it looked like something out of my league and something i would never want to play. but bits and pieces of my scattered memory showed me that it was my father who influenced me to play the piano. it doesn't explain how, though.
i play the said instrument occasionally. only playing it when i'm bored or when yuuta wants me to. i'm pretty rusty and i don't think anyone in class knows i play piano (and i think i'll keep it that way). i do remember playing a song when i was in second grade, however. it was... with a classmate. i don't know who— their face is always blurred in my flashbacks.
... maybe i should play the piano again.
thinking this, i tried getting up but hissed in pain from the sudden headache that spiked through me. falling back down on my pillow with a flop, i groaned, holding my head that throbbed with pain. "how did this even happen?" i muttered, annoyed.
scanning the room, i was no longer at the nurse's office but instead in my bedroom. "... how did i get here?" getting up again and dealing with the pain, i felt warmth around my neck. looking down, i saw a purple scarf that i have never seen before.
