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04.PHYSICAL THERAPY
*⋆｡˚𖦹࣪˖ ִֶָ⋆｡°✩
Three days from that moment, and you have not made a single lick of progress. More or less, you either don't exist to the team, or you're only mentioned when a conversation about girls happens when they get changed. Locker room talk is something you do not want to hear, and you wish that you hadn't at this point.
To be fair, there were a few guys who didn't treat you as horribly as you described. The brutish, muscular guy, Kunigami, was nice enough to you—not more than being generally civil, but you took what you got—and that guy with a charming smile, Kuon, and even sometimes that jet-black haired boy, who you learned was Isagi, would greet you in the mornings and wave in the hallways. His friend beside him was a lot more friendly, it seemed because he was the crazy boy who kicked that baldie in the face.
"[name]! [name]!" Bachira stretched out the last syllable of your name the second time he said it, sitting by your side and pulling on your sleeve. "Lemme see your notebook!"
"For the last time—no!" You tug the book closer to your chest. It wasn't like you had any dirty secrets in there or anything, but you didn't want anybody to look through your personal stuff. This was a reasonable boundary, right? Not to Bachira.
"Whyyyyyy?!" His lips form into a childish pout, cheeks puffed out and swinging his bare feet around next to your head, making you shoot him a nasty glare (that you seemed to have picked up from bleach-head, go figure) and scoot over. "Unless you have any gross things in there... or any secrets... then I don't know why you would care if I see it or not!"
You shove his feet away from your head with your elbow, refusing to touch his bare feet with your bare hands. "Ugh—ew! Your feet are disgusting!"
Was it like you to be so blatantly rude to somebody? Not really. You usually knew how to hold your tongue to people but this—this was a type of person you absolutely could not stand. Isagi comes running in your direction, apologising to you loudly and grabbing Bachira by the ankles, ignoring how the other male started cackling wildly, screaming, "I'm ticklish! Stawwp!!! Isagiiii!!"
You take a seat back in your original spot, letting out a heavy sigh and slumping down, notebook discarded on the spot next to you.
