𝚃𝙴𝙴𝙽𝙰𝙶𝙴 𝙳𝙸𝚁𝚃𝙱𝙰𝙶 ,, high&low

chapter eight | duck eat duck world

eight

duck eat duck world

After classes ended in the morning, I went to another kind of hell.

Helping Murayama with his literature essay.

We we working in the kitchen that morning because I wanted to make cinnamon rolls, and that alone was going to take few hours before they could even go in the oven. More and more people eventually got added to my roster, as it seemed that nobody in this building ( other than Todoroki and myself ) seemed to posses any kind of brain cell, many first years coming to me with questions regarding homework. They treated me as an all-knowing sentient being, when in reality I couldn't help with half the stuff they asked me, which often resulted in work not being done. Freaking teenagers. I remembered the days.

"For the last time, Fujio, I am not doing your homework for you." I sighed, placing shrink wrap over the second tray of cinnamon rolls "I'm sure you can think of the answers if you use enough of your brain cells."

Tsukasa grinned "He doesn't have any."

"I can hear you." Fujio grumbled, staring at the crumpled math worksheet. I was no good with numbers, and I guess nobody else was either.

They didn't really have classes at Oya, per say. They really just threw textbooks at the kids and told them to learn, explaining at length why there were still so many twenty year olds here.

Murayama sat at the other end of the kitchen island, lazily writing out a first draft of his essay while munching on leftover stir fry.

I reached over and snatched the lined paper, scanning the first paragraph.

"What was that for?" Murayama shouted in between bites of stir fry

I rolled my eyes "You were staring at the same page for like half an hour." I turned my eyes back to the paper, amazed as I continued to read the first paragraph. "I'm impressed. It literally sounds like Todoroki wrote it, but I've been here since you started, so I know that he didn't. You are smart."

Murayama shrugged "I didn't get to where I am by doing my homework, but that doesn't mean I couldn't have done it."

Fujio snickered, my phone going off in my back pocket simultaneously.

I pulled out my phone, staring down at the text message from Tsukasa. It was a picture from the other day, clearly taken at an awkward angle, Todoroki's head disappearing from out side the frame. I was asleep on Murayama's shoulder, a content smile on both of our faces, hands intertwined. While I was staring at it, Tsukasa sent another message.

Try and tell me you aren't in love now.

Because it looks like he is too.

I shot the blond a glare before sighing to myself and passing back Murayama's essay. "That's actually pretty good, Hot Shot. See if you can't finish drafting that first page by the time the oven's ready for these cinnamon rolls."