❝ man, i'm just here to take pictures of you
so my club will stay alive. ❞
↳ aimoto iori never expected
her second year would su-
ck this bad. ever.
MIYA TWINS X OC ((NOT POLY...
*.☽ AFTER GRADUATION, YAMADA DAISUKE BECAME A PROFESSIONAL PHOTOGRAPHER.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
There was a level of taking Wii Sports too far. Iori did not think she'd taken it too far, but Kenma had an outside (and probably more leveled) perspective.
Wii tennis was another level of anger relief. It was another form of therapy, to be honest—a way to flail around in rage and hopefully feel a little bit better by the time the player won.
"She really didn't tell you?"
"She doesn't tell me anything anymore," Iori hissed, collapsing onto Kenma's couch. "I can't even talk to her about it, because she doesn't even give me the time to talk to her. School, study, sleep. No time for the girl you've discussed marriage with!"
Kenma took a seat next to her, awkwardly patting her shoulder.
"I mean, I wouldn't even be surprised if she flat out came out and said she was cheating on me. Hell, I don't even think I'd care that much!"
"Don't lie."
"Okay, I would care, but I wouldn't be surprised," Iori huffed. "I just want to go back in time, get another shot. Break up with her before I started sleeping in the guest room."
"You sleep in the guest room?" Kenma repeated, his frown deepening. "Why?"
"So she doesn't get annoyed with me going to the bathroom at two in the morning. Beauty sleep is more important than anything else in the world, even if a murderer came in and stabbed me to my deathbed," she rambled. Kenma sighed, pinching his nose.
"Settling down will be so worth it for you," he hummed.
"Tell me about it."
The two sat in silence for a bit, the only sound being the Wii Sports menu song playing on loop as both of them neglected to switch the TV off.
If Iori's life could get any sadder, this would be the cause.
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
For the third time that week, Iori had gone out with Yukimi. They were shoveling hot pot down their throats, not a word being spoken between them. Of course, they were waiting for a third party to arrive, but she was late, as always.
"We've been here for an hour," Yukimi started.
"Yup."
"If she doesn't get here in three minutes, I'm eating what she wanted us to order for her."
