Boyfriend Scenario [Rights & (male)Punks]

♡A Present♡

MOROKO

"Salutations, dear sister," both your older siblings greet, tilting their lips in what vaguely resembles a smile. You smile softly.

"Greetings, sister, brother. How is Greece and Paris?" You ask them. Both of them were in private schools abroad; your brother in Greece and sister in France.
"Not exactly what we imagine it to be," they reply in unison. They have always had perfect sync with one another. You start idly talking with them.

That's when you hear a knock. "Yes? Ah, c-come in please." You exclaim, turning around. The next moment, one of the maids walk in.

"Young Lady Y/N, Master L/N has requested your presence in the reading room," she announces, standing straight at attention. You look at her then back at your older siblings.

"It seems father wants to see you," your brother points out. "You better go; father's patience is...not to be taken advantage of," your sister states. You nod, to which they nod back.

"Farewell," they wave politely, disconnecting the video chat. Taking a deep breath, you stand up and follow the maid. As your footsteps echo across the empty halls, your eyes land on a portrait hanging majestically.

It was of your two older siblings--just a few days after the passing of dear grandmother. Your eyes turn wistful. But, now wasn't a time for tears and painful memories.
Now, it was time to face the scariest person you know.

Your father.

The maid pushes open the grand wooden doors, and you quietly enter.
"Take a seat, child," your father says, staring outside. You take a seat on the plush velvet chair, hand idly tracing the intricate hand-carved wooden etchings.

Finally, your father spins on his heel and walks to circle around your seat.

"I have read your essay regarding your request to join a private high school, instead of being taught by the tutors," your father starts, his voice a void of emotion as ever. He angles his head at you, gaze expectant.
"Do you have already know which school you wish to study at?" He questions, raising a brow.

You look down. "No, sir..." you mumble.

"Do not mumble, child. Talk, loud and clear; but polite." The man narrows his eyes. You swallow the lump in your throat.
"I-I'm not sure yet." You glance up at your father. The man stares right back at you with a critical eye.

Finally, he sits down in an armchair opposite you. Neither of you say anything. The only sound is from the granfather clock. "I've just received an...interesting letter," your father finally says after a moment.

He hands you a silvery-grey envelope. As you take the letter, you catch sight of the emblem, front and centre. Two golden pythons contorting to resemble the letter 'P'. Beneath it, in intricate lavender italics;

☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆

Prestigious Pythons

Perfecting prestige is the Python's pride.

☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆

"You have been offered a chance to study here for half the course--all expenses paid," your father explains. You can't nor do you even try to hide the excited smile that plays on your lips.

"The school is located in Viletown, Japan. I will fund the rest of your schooling; if you meet certain conditions." Your eyes widen in surprise. You nod, absent-minded.
"But, let's not discuss that now. First, you have to be accepted," your father adds. He takes a cup of warm tea from a tray on the table.

"I have done some research, and apparently the chances of someone not from Viletown--much less, from a different country--are 0.1 out of 1--," your father pauses to take a sip of his beverage. You smile to yourself. 0.1, out of one? That's not so bad; it's basically one out of ten!

The male gently places the antique cup down. "--hundred," he finishes.
Okay, that's basically...one out of 1000. You unconsciously bite your lip.

"But, I know you will succeed. You are my daughter, after all." Your father flashes you a gentle smile and you return it.
"Oh, yes!" The man exclaims suddenly. He waves over one of the maids.

"Someone has also presented you with this parcel." He gestures to a box the maid was holding out to you. It was wrapped with pastel pink paper adorned with small white hearts. There was also a large, red ribbon on top.

Suddenly, you thought of the boy with a similar-looking ribbon. "A suitor?" Your father inquires, though you could also sense light amusement in his tone. A blush creeps onto your face before you could stop it.

"N-no! He's just an acquaintance..." you shake your head. Your father chuckles.
"Alright," he says, with a small smirk. You gingerly hold the box in your arms.

"May I be excused?" You ask. Your father nods, solemn. The conversation has officially ended.

You stand up, bow and retreat to your bedroom. As soon as you close the door, you involuntarily let out an excited squeal. You quickly rush forward, then crash onto your bed. You take a pillow and cover your face to muffle another squeal.
You sit up, a silly grin on your face. You take the box and undo the ribbon gently, then rip the wrapping off.

When you open the lid, your eyes widen. Inside, was a small pink plush teddy bear. One of its beady eyes was replaced with a small heart, and it had a dark pink bowtie. You gently take it, almost fearfully.

You rarely get plush toys--usually, people send you porcelain dolls, expensive dresses, antique kitchenware, and so on.
This is the first time you've gotten a gift that's so...simple.

There's nothing really special about it; just a simple pink bear. Not as special as the gem-encrusted tea set your cousin gave you, or your cashmere scarf with real gold stitched into it.
No, the bear was just a simple, cheap, commoner gift; and you love it.

Then something yellow catches your eye. You gently place the bear on the bed and peer into the box. You slowly take out the yellow cloth and let out a gasp.

You know this! It's a mini-shirt (about the bear's size). It had a picture of a cob of sweetcorn on it. There was also a note attached.
You gingerly pluck the parchment before reading it.

'Something to remember me by! I'll see you soon! XD'

'P.S. You can call me Roko!'

You smile to yourself, then it dawns on you. He didn't say--or, in this case, write--if he wrote when!
That means...you'll meet again! You smile broadly, gazing affectionately at the bear, and the shirt.