“Really?” He asks through an exasperated exhale, dark brows slightly pinched, “School just started, how are you already getting into trouble?”

The branches of trees bend gracefully with the gentle rustle of spring blossoms—even the greater, widespread branches sway with an easy grandeur, showering the duo sat beneath them in blush-pink hues.

Jun reaches up to pluck another wayward petal from your hair; he hums, languidly holding it up for inspection, before flicking it away and leaning back against the tree-trunk.

With another sigh, the male student snaps the journal on his lap closed… a subtle attempt to keep the pages full of precious sketches from fluttering about.

He’s been drawing in it ever since the start of high school. The two of you are welcoming your third and final year, viewing the fleeting cherry blossoms that line the courtyard.