entry #3 | ¢å¢нє

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(Y/n) waved goodbye to her tall friend as the two left the gym locker rooms and went their separate ways, the class having ended. She hoisted her backpack up and began heading for her next class, which happens to be European Literature. And that was the class she loved the most and hated at the same time.

The (h/c)-haired girl enjoyed the class when they were reading a new book or discussing it. She mildly disliked it when she was forced to move her hand. And she hated it when the noise started. 

The squealing of the fangirls.

Fortuna Institute girls were an entire breed of their own. From high-maintenance heiresses to spoiled, prideful next Miss Englands, a lot of them were different from the girls (Y/n) was used to seeing back in her neighborhood. But as varying as they were, all the girls in that class had one thing in common: their adoration for two specific people in European Literature.

The first was their teacher, Mr. Howards. He was a tall, wiry and likable fellow fresh out of college. He had a mop of unruly sandy-blond hair that fell before his bluebell eyes behind a pair of rounded spectacles. Mr. Howards was kind, agreeable, and often was seen cheering on the sports team in the bleachers or laughing with the popular crowd. It made him the object of many girls' affections.

And the second was none other than...well, (Y/n) didn't know. She didn't know his name, but she knew his face, especially since he sat right next to her where she had to endure the girls' high-pitched squealing all class. And his name?

She dubbed him the abominable snowman.

The (e/c)-eyed girl had no idea what his name was since she was always sleeping, but his pure white hair and sharp golden eyes reminded her of a polar bear. Only, he didn't look fluffy enough, so she settled with a snowman.

"Class, open to Act 2 Scene 1," Mr. Howards instructed. He mimed pressing down with his hands. "Lower the volume, girls. Class is in session now." The students slowly complied, the girls reluctantly retreating to their seats from where they surrounded the teacher. (Y/n) glanced at the seat beside her; much to her surprise and joy, it was empty—

"Sorry, Charles," a voice drawled. A new figure burst through the doorway just before Mr. Howards could close it. (Y/n) stifled a groan of annoyance as the squeals restarted, now louder than before. The white-haired male threw a flirty wink at the crowd, making them let out a breathless sigh. Then to the blond teacher, "I got a little caught up back there. I'm not late, am I?" He had a subtle accent (Y/n) couldn't quite place her finger on.

Mr. Howards gave the newcomer a stern look. "For the last time, Kieran," he said. "Call me Mr. Howards and not my first name. And spend a little less time in the closet, got it?" Several girls picked up what the older male was hinting at and began giggling.

Kieran scratched the back of his neck, his smirk unfaltering as he spoke. "There won't be a next time, Howards." 

The teacher sighed a waved a hand dismissively at the student. "You know what, I don't even know why I try. Take a seat." The white-haired male grinned and started for his seat, only to be stopped by a redhead in the front row who tugged on his sleeve. He lowered his head to let her whisper into his ear. Then he turned to look at her and whispered something back, before leaving. The girl flipped her hair over her shoulder victoriously as the other girls looked on with envy written across their faces.

(Y/n) continued snoring away as the golden-eyed male sat down beside her. This was another reason why she liked the class; Mr. Howards was rather lenient about her sleeping all the time compared to the other teachers.

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