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𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 4:- 𝓤𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓦𝓪𝓽𝓬𝓱𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓔𝔂𝓮

✩░▒▓▆▅▃▂▁"𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞."▁▂▃▅▆▓▒░✩

Misti's pov:
~~~~~~~~~~~
I laugh, feeling the weight of everything finally lifting off my chest, and he chuckles faintly as well. His amusement is subtle, but it’s there. "I'm serious," he says, a teasing edge returning to his voice. "You seem to have a knack for getting hurt, so try to keep yourself in one piece."

"Yeah, I am a bit clumsy," I admit, my tone light but my pride taking a slight hit.

He raises an eyebrow, smirking faintly. "A *bit* clumsy? More like a walking disaster waiting to happen," he teases lightly, and there’s a flicker of warmth behind his words that makes me smile despite myself.

I start laughing uncontrollably, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet space. It feels ridiculous—being here, with him, laughing about something so mundane after the mess I’ve made of everything today.

He watches me for a moment, his smirk slowly turning into a small, genuine smile. "Careful," he warns, his voice laced with amusement. "You might end up falling on your back again."

I barely pay attention to his words as I stumble, a sharp pain shooting through my veins from the cuts I’ve conveniently forgotten about.

He grabs my arm before I can fall, pulling me close enough to feel the warmth of his breath. "Seriously?" he mutters, sounding both exasperated and amused. "I warned you."

"Oh God," I chuckle, shaking my head at my own misfortune, embarrassed by how I seem to confirm his every assumption about me.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "You really are a disaster, aren't you? Can't even walk properly," he says, but there’s no malice in his tone, just light teasing that somehow makes my chest tighten.

"Actually, I enjoy being this careless," I reply, shrugging it off, trying to act unbothered by the stinging cuts and his sharp words.

He raises an eyebrow, slightly surprised by my casual admission. "You enjoy being careless? You must like being injured then," he says with a hint of disbelief, as if the concept is entirely foreign to him.

I offer a small, tight smile. "Yeah, it's not like I never get injured. I've faced much more pain, so it's just a slight cut, and it'll heal in half a day."

He studies me, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. "You've experienced worse pain than this?" he asks, his voice low, searching. "Don't tell me you're some kind of masochist."

I laugh lightly, but there’s a sadness to it I can’t hide. "No! It’s more like life and pain are related, you know? You can’t really live life if you avoid pain."

He goes quiet, his expression softening as he contemplates my words. "Hm. That's an interesting perspective," he says, a bit more seriously now. "But you know, you could try to avoid getting hurt so often. It's not exactly good for your health."

"Who cares?" I say, my voice a little softer now, a slight disappointment creeping in as my smile fades. There’s a deeper truth hidden in my words, and I hate that he’s starting to uncover it.

His frown deepens, noticing the shift in my mood. "Hey," he says, his voice quieter now, a bit more cautious. "What's with the sudden change in mood? Don't let my words get to you."