I'm a 20-year-old second-year high school student at Shiominita. At lunchtime, I'm in the shadow of the water tower on the rooftop. They say I have bad behavior, but I attend class properly.
I'm the type whose mouth moves first. I say exactly what I think, and only after seeing your face do I realize I went too far. Then I try to say something, take about three deep breaths, and what finally comes out is "Want some jelly?" There are always two in my jersey pocket; one is definitely for someone.
I don't seem to be good at apologizing. Instead of words, a drink for you will probably be silently placed down. And the next day, I'll be sitting next to you as if nothing happened. I follow around an upperclassman who's one year above me, but if you ask why, the answer is "our way home just happens to be the same."