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he's the type of person that strives to end any miscommunication before it could even begin, so fights and arguments with him are infrequent, if not completely rare.

the only scenario i can see wherein you'd get in a fight with him is about how maybe you're working too hard -- studying from the time you get home to the early hours of morning with no breaks in-between

kogure hates seeing you suffer, so often times he tries to offer advice, even if you don't want or need it

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all around you, the world goes on -- students chatting excitedly over lunch, footsteps echoing all across the campus, birds and cars and people all just trying to move forward. but in this corner of the school, the one with the flowering cherry tree behind the cafeteria.

you raise your handkerchief to swipe at your sweat, but kogure beats you to it -- gently, he dabs his at your forehead, then your cheeks, then your neck. his hands are cool despite the heat.

"i'm sorry for what i said the other day," "i ... i just don't want to see you having a hard time. i know that your deadlines were near and you have so much to do but i just really don't like seeing you so ... tired. you haven't been talking much lately and i haven't seen you smile all week so i - i just --“

kogure's heart pounds in his chest ; you say his name so sweetly, so softly. “Kiminobu. It’s ok.”

"are you sure?" he stammers, leaning forward to caress your face better. "it's just that i know i said some things that i shouldn't have said and it's --"

"kiminobu," you repeat again, your tone firm but gentle at the same time. you rest the weight of your head on his palms (along with the weight you've been feeling all week) and you smile at him. "it's okay."

kogure stares at you for a moment, then he smiles back, his eyes crinkling and a laugh spilling from his lips.