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❝alright, dude, go trip over a knife❞ my boy, billie eilish
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A twig snaps behind her unceremoniously, prompting her from the thought induced half conscious state she'd grown comfortable with, her body swiftly drifting away from the swing set, brown eyes narrowed at her surroundings. The warm tone of the lamp light twitches, the colors blaring at the corners of her eyes, the dark brown orbs glowing cautiously, thorn branches curled around her upper body and torso. All her ears continue to twitch against are the faint sounds of silence, the crickets, even. Its only when she pretends to let her guard down, that the hand reaching out for her slips, her frame swiftly sliding away from the swing set and turning to face the intruder.
Their gazes meet. These pair of onyx eyes that somehow appear lighter beneath the light of the lamp, raven hair falling in front of his pale face tinted red from the breeze taking subtle nips at his cheeks.
Koharu's thick eyebrows furrow at the boy whose looking slightly embarrassed, and conventionally impressed at the way the thick brown branches coiled around her skin without much warning other than what could have been an animal earlier. "Are you following me or something?" The girl scoffs, guard officially dropped as she rubs warm circles into the sides of her arms, sure signs that she's freezing. "Because that's really creepy. I'm not one of your fangirls, so I don't think its cute."
"Shut up," the raven haired boy mumbles, taking a few steps closer, and for some reason, his hoodie resting limp in his arm. "I was just taking a walk and saw you. You're cold, right?"
The dark haired girl's lips purse into a straight line at the accusation, (albeit accurate accusation), awkwardly staring between his obsidian eyes and the blue hoodie, the dull orbs searching her for any signs of blasphemy. "No," she mumbles shortly after clearing her throat, arms falling by her sides and into the pockets of her baggy shorts, frown curving her lips.
Of course he doesn't buy it, his dark eyebrow arching at the goosebumps dotting her arms, the slight quivering of her lip, and even the harsh red hue of her cheeks. The ravenette smirks knowingly. "Sure you're not," he throws the hoodie at her face mid sentence, chuckling when she yells and nearly falls over at the force, "it's forty degrees out here, of course you're cold. You're shaking like a leaf."
Goddamn him for being right. It takes forces far beyond her pride to suck up any hard feelings towards him and pull the article of clothing over her pouty, bun flopped head, the smell of cool mint filling her senses and creating an odd feeling in her chest. "Smells nice," Koharu mumbles, pulling the hoodie up to get a better whiff, unable to contain the blunt remarks that usually spew from her natural impulsivity. When she finally notices him staring at her in almost amusement—not that the boy enthused in a variety of facial expression—she frowns and dusts the hoodie off. "Er—I mean, gross. This hoodie feels gross."
