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chapter 5
✈️. *. ⋆🌃. *. ⋆☁️ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Y/N GASPED, her eyes fixed on the book held in Sero's hands. Sero sat rigid, a look of realization washing over his face.
"This is you?" He said, gaping, his gaze alternating between y/n and the book. y/n's breath hitched in her chest, the embarrassment bubbling up into anger.
Sero stared down at the picture of little y/n, her face so different from the one she had matured into. Back then she was a short, stubby girl with plump cheeks that seemed to glisten whenever she smiled. Much like how she was now, her rich, brown skin greatly complemented the color of her eyes. He remembered her. He remember how she often wore her hair in two, cute plaits. He remembered her cheerful attitude. Really, he could only remember good things about her. But he still couldn't remember doing anything to hurt her.
"Oh my fucking god, Sero, you seriously can't just keep your hands out of my shit, can you?" y/n exclaimed, her tone hard, as she walked over to him. "How hard is it to respect my privacy?" y/n huffed tempestuously, snatching the book out of his hands while feeling her entire body heat up as her mouth began to go dry.
She threw the photo book on her bed and walked out of the room, her familiar, tropical scent bathing the room where she walked so fast she left the wind behind her. Despite her scent still being there, the room felt very much empty with only Sero in it.
"No, wait—" Sero held out a hand, wanting to stop her from leaving— to apologize. Sero looked around the empty room, his gaze landing on the neglected photo book. "Yeah, Sero, you've really done it this time..."
The boy stood up, his lanky form swaying as he cautiously walked out of the room, his eyes wandering to see if y/n was there. The living room was empty, so he wondered if she just completely left the building, but it was the transparent glass door to the balcony that gave it away.
There she sat, her hair hanging over her face as she massaged her scalp tiredly. The slight wind rustled the ends of her shirt, the breeze flowing freely through her. She held out her hands and Sero squinted, him moving closer to the door. He saw the way the wind bended to fit the curves of her hand. Despite the wind commonly being known to be a complete intangible thing, she was touching it, twirlings wisps of it between her fingers, forming into the shape of a little tornado.
