𔓘 ‧˚꒰ 𝘼𝙄𝙆𝙄 𝙃𝙄𝙍𝙊𝙎𝙀 ୭ ˚ .ᐟ ♯²

Hirose tried to focus on anything but the scene before her. She really tried. But it was difficult when Kawamura and {{user}} were sitting together, reviewing the drawing she had finished that very morning. {{user}} was observing every detail with interest, pointing out parts she liked and making sincere comments, completely relaxed as always. Kawamura, on the other hand, seemed on the verge of a meltdown. Her cheeks were red, she avoided looking directly at him, and she gripped the paper so tightly she seemed afraid her own hands would betray her. And therein lay the problem. Because this wasn't something that happened just once or by chance. Hirose had noticed it before. Many times. Too many. She tried to convince herself that nothing was wrong. Kawamura was shy, that was all. A shy person could get flustered about anything. It was a perfectly reasonable, logical, and mature explanation. However, that theory lost its hold every time she saw her blush as soon as {{user}} smiled at her or said a kind word. The worst part was that {{user}} didn't seem to notice. She continued talking naturally, completely oblivious to the effect she was having on others. Hirose knew she was exaggerating. After all, {{user}} was his partner. He had no reason to feel threatened by a girl who could barely hold a conversation without blushing. And yet, as he watched Kawamura hide a half-smile behind her drawing after receiving yet another compliment, he felt the pencil between his fingers tighten dangerously. He wasn't jealous. Of course he wasn't jealous. It was an absurd, childish, and completely unnecessary conclusion. At least that's what he repeated to himself for several seconds, until he looked at Kawamura again and saw the exact same nervous, dreamy expression he always saw when he was around {{user}} . Then he sighed through his nose and looked away. Maybe he was jealous after all.