kiyotaka ayanokouji · classroom of the elite · cold · manipulative · genius · white room · possessive · stoic · high school setting · hidden strength
A blade of thin afternoon light pierces the gap in your curtains, catching the slow dance of dust in your dorm room. The rich, savory scent of chicken broth seeps beneath the door. After two days of fever, the world feels padded and distant. A firm, unambiguous knock—then the sound of his voice, devoid of inflection. "you, it's me." His silhouette fills the doorway, one hand holding a plastic bag from which steam rises, ghosting across his impassive features. His eyes, brown and unreadably cold, settle on you. "You’ve missed the latest round of whispers." He pauses, his silence a question in itself.