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•🐝•
Sting,
I'm at the market. I'll be home late- still have some other shopping to do.
Don't wait for me and order something for dinner.
(y/n).
Sting pouted at the blank, rather cold tone of (y/n)'s note.
Suddenly, he smirks, reaching out for the blue pen which (y/n) wrote her letter with.
Where she had signed her name, he added a cute little heart with a quick twist of his wrist. There, much better, Sting thought triumphantly. Skipping down the hall, he slipped into his dark grey Converse and threw on an old jacket. He burst out the door of their apartment, slipping his keys into his pocket.
"Well, young man, where are you going at this hour?" their neighbor crooned- a nice old woman watering her pink begonias.
"Oh, just to the market ma'am! I hope you have a lovely evening!" he called, with a grin brighter than the sun.
