Pancakes and Pudding «« Kozume Kenma x (fem!) Reader

Chapter 1 || It's you

Kenma laid his head down on the desk, hiding his gaming console under the table as the teacher walked into the classroom. He glanced at the clock. There were still two minutes before class starts, the teacher was early. The students began to stop their conversations and head back to their desks, there were the few who quickly sprinted to their classes, hoping to beat the bell. Kuroo was usually there in the morning to keep Kenma company and would be amongst those who rushed to their first class, but he texted Kenma earlier to tell him he had something to take care of, just in case Kenma actually waited for him. What he could be doing, Kenma had no clue, but it wasn't like Kuroo's absence bothered him, one morning couldn't hurt.

"Good morning class. A new student will be joining us as of today, please make her feel welcomed." Cue the usual murmurs of his classmates. Kenma wasn't interested in any of that, and his mind drifted off. He couldn't wait to get home and continue his game, though he couldn't play as much as he would like because he had to go to volleyball practice today. Kenma didn't like volleyball, nor did he hate it. At least, that's what he thought until last year. Last year was absolute hell to Kenma. He already hated pushing himself to his physical limits, but his senpai's made it their job to give him a hard time, just because he was a first year. He wasn't bullied by his senpai's this year, and Kuroo didn't give him a hard time, but today they had conditioning and Kenma was not in the mood to run. Not like he was ever in the mood to run, though.

The class quieted down as the door slid open and the new student walked into the classroom. A transfer at this time was not unusual, after all, it was only the second week of school.

"Hello everyone my name is (l/n) (y/n). Um...I used to be homeschooled and this is my first time attending a school in five years. I'm sorry if I trouble you while trying to adjust, please take care of me!" Kenma's eyes widened at the familiar voice and looked up. There she was, the strange girl from yesterday. He didn't think he'd see her again. The teacher clapped his hands together and scanned the room. "You can sit in this seat at the front, (l/n)."

Kenma watched as the girl he now knew as (l/n) (y/n) sat down, bringing out her pencil pouch and notebook. The teacher quickly began his lesson, though Kenma tuned him out as he continued to stare at the girl's back. They sat relatively close to each other, she was seated three seats ahead and to the right of him. Kenma was, of course, blessed with a window seat, much like every year of his school life. Just like the other day, she looked back and they met eyes. She offered a small smile before facing the front again. He noticed she had a hard time paying attention to the lesson. She would bounce her leg or doodle a flower on the edge of her paper. She also had a habit of twirling her pencil around her finger which Kenma found very intriguing. He saw her twirl her pencil around her thumb and decided to try it, and of course, failed. She made it look so easy. Kenma decided he was going to practice it when he got home. 

(Y/n) glanced back at Kenma after first period ended and made a move to get up and talk to him, but was immediately surrounded by other students. The bell rang not long after and (y/n) huffed as her classmates went back to their seats. This happened again for the next three periods, (y/n) was unable to approach Kenma as students flocked around her table and asked her questions. They all asked her similar questions, why she was homeschooled, why she chose to attend Nekoma High, if she wanted to be their friend, and if she were single. (Y/n) tried her best to avoid questions she didn't want to answer, such as that last one, and said answers that didn't give away too much about her. It wasn't like she didn't want her classmates to know about her. She did want to befriend some of them, but she believed that they shouldn't be asking some of those questions to a person they just met. The questions seem to never end, and it was as if they didn't listen to her previous answers because they kept asking the same things. By the time lunch started, (y/n) was already drained and made no attempt to talk to Kenma. As soon as the bell rung, (y/n) grabbed her lunch and hastily rushed out of the room.