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Art Classes

Jesus, why am I still writing short shit? Hopefully I get back in the groove soon...Crack pairing is love? Kabaji (Prince of Tennis)/Miss Goldenweek (One Piece)

Rumours had been spread in record timing. Each one of the blatant lies about the tiny 1st year brunette, referring to herself only as Goldenweek. Nothing more, nothing less. Moreso, she didn't appear to have the necessary intelligence or wealth to make it into the prestigious halls of Hyotei academy, because, in all honesty, she seemed to be rather air headed, albeit friendly enough. She'd skip, not walk, through the halls and talk to anyone who crossed her path, regardless of the plainly obvious fact that she was the lowest of the low in the pecking order. She'd sing quietly to herself whenever she worked. She was annoyingly lazy, often not bothering to do any class work unless she had her bags and whatnot within her tiny arm span. She'd take snack breaks during P.E and sleep when she was told to run laps, telling the coach she was 'sleepy' and thus forth couldn't perform the activities planned. In short, the unique 'Miss Goldenweek' was a freak in the eyes of the student body. A plain, straight up, freak.

Although, the strangest thing anyone ever saw Goldenweek do was kiss Kabaji Munehiro on the cheek after only meeting him for a little over thirty minutes.

They met in art class. Kabaji trudged in, his lumbering form in sharp contrast to the far lilther boy he followed, face set in the usual stonic not-frowning-not-smiling mask it always fell into and awaited calmly until Atobe was seated before silently perching himself next to the 'King' of Hyotei. Meanwhile, Goldenweek skipped in, big, brown eyes half closed and a bag full of paintbrushes dangling off her left arm haphazardly as she sauntered over to the far larger Kabaji, snatching the seat opposite him without even asking if one of the 'popular' people minded.
"Hey~" She drawled, nodding over at the boy who simply blinked at her,

Half an hour later, Goldenweek pumped a fist into the air,
"I've done it~" She called out half-heartedly before lowering her arm and brandishing the painting in Kabaji's direction,
"Hey~ Isn't it cool? It's my dream" The girl pointed at the image of herself waving a paintbrush manically, a Salvador Dali-esque moustache gracing her upper lip and a look of pure determination set in her eyes.

"You know, you're pretty cool, Kabaji, but Atobe's kinda not"
"But that doesn't matter, 'cause I like you"