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twenty-one — kouchera festival.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
"you going in today?"
y/n scrunched her nose as she rolled onto her front; she gripped the pillow under her tightly and shoved the side of her face into the cushion. "i never have to go in." she mumbled. "all of my work is literally... emails."
"and what about the meetings?"
"it's called video chatting, old man. mahoro always sets me up— the work is super easy and doesn't require me to leave the house... ever."
"that's great and all, but you haven't seen the sun in six days." izuku stormed across her room and forced open the blinds in a rather annoying and cliche way. y/n groaned at the light burning her eyes as the freckle-faced male faced her, fingers to his hips. "let alone talked to anyone other than me and shouto. that's not healthy— get up! it's two in the afternoon."
"'m not going anywhere." y/n twisted herself in her sheets. "go away, 'zuku. you and shouto have rockstar boyfriends. you're living the high life— you don't get to judge my life choices so... did you say two?"
