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┍━━━☽【☹︎】☾━━━┑ third person pov 3:35 pm february 25th ┕━━━☽【☹︎】☾━━━┙
THE FEBRUARY CHILL had painted the city in hues of gray and white, with breaths turning to cloudy mist.
Nestled among the bustling streets of rainy Musutafu was a quaint coffee shop, its windows fogged up from the warmth within, offering a haven for those escaping the cold. The promise of spring was definitely still a whisper away.
Inside, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the nippy air outside. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans mingled with the sweet aroma of pastries, created an inviting cocoon of warmth. Soft murmurs of conversations blended with the occasional hiss of the espresso machine, crafting a calming symphony of urban life.
In a cozy corner, shielded from the draft each time the door opened, sat twins Hitomi and Hitoshi, along with their annoying but lovable childhood best friend, Neito Monoma.
Their heads were bowed over textbooks and notes, studying for the written portion of the UA entrance exams. The wooden table was littered with papers, pens, and remnants like napkins and receipts from their afternoon treats.
Hitomi had opted for a hot chocolate, topped with a generous swirl of whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon. It was a drink that matched her— deceptively sweet and comforting, but not without the spice that spoke of her hidden layers.
Hitoshi, ever the traditionalist, sipped on a classic black coffee. No sugar, no cream, just the pure, unadulterated brew— a reflection of his straightforward nature and strong resolve. But how he could drink that gross hot bean water, his younger sister would never know.
Neito, on the other hand, had chosen a caramel macchiato. The levels of espresso, milk, and caramel sauce mirrored his complex personality— a little bitter, a little sweet, and always leaving you guessing what's beneath the surface.
In that moment, the blond sitting beside the twins moved his leg beneath the table's surface, lightly kicking a shoe belonging to the boy with consistently unruly hair.
He looked up from his book on advanced algebra to glare at his distracting friend, who had been kicking both siblings for various reasons the whole two hours they'd been at Cape Latte.
But the grey eyed teen nodded his head towards the token girl of the group, who had been transfixed by the near hail like downpour outside. Then it was clear for anyone to see, behind the thin purple rimmed glasses that she wears when too lazy to apply contacts, her head was not in study mode.
