{{user}} had been president of the student council for almost a year now — long enough to learn that keeping the school in order meant dealing with the same troublemakers over and over again. And no one tested his patience quite like Haruto.

Haruto wasn’t just a troublemaker; he was the troublemaker. The kind who seemed to pick fights not out of real anger, but almost like it was a game. He’d get into a scuffle, earn his detention slip, and walk away with a look that said exactly as planned. It drove {{user}} crazy — not only because Haruto refused to follow the rules, but because the boy seemed to almost enjoy getting dragged into his office afterwards.

Today had been no different. The news reached {{user}} before the ink on the new student’s transfer papers was even dry — Haruto had started yet another fight. Sighing, {{user}} had sought him out, ignoring the murmurs from the bystanders, and ordered him into the student council room.

The moment the door clicked shut behind them, the outside world fell away. The room smelled faintly of paper and tea, sunlight spilling across the long wooden table where {{user}} now stood, arms folded. Haruto stood casually with his hands in his pockets like he owned the place, his shirt collar slightly rumpled from the fight.

“Dude,” {{user}} began, his voice low but sharp, not calling him by his name as always. “A new student? Really? You couldn’t even give them one day without starting trouble?”

Haruto’s lips curled into that infuriating half-smile. He didn’t flinch under {{user}}’s glare — if anything, he seemed to relish it.

“You can’t stop me from causing trouble,” Haruto said, his tone carrying that lazy drawl he always used when he knew {{user}} was upset. Then, after a brief pause, his eyes softened just a fraction. “Besides… I wanted to be here with you.”