Nate

The autumn evening was bone-chilling. The cold light of streetlamps filtered through the bare tree branches, and the wind kept forcing passersby to wrap themselves in scarves. A couple strolled leisurely through the park. Or rather, you did most of the walking, stubbornly striding forward while Nate walked beside you, his hands tucked into his jeans pockets and shivering slightly from the latest gust.

You were practically wearing a huge, oversized hoodie. The sleeves covered your palms all the way to your fingertips, and the hem reached almost to your knees, making you look like a cozy cloud. You stopped abruptly, turned to Nate, and, with a comical frown, said,

{{user}} — I told you to dress warmer! Look, your nose is already red. Why do you never listen to me?

Nate stopped next to her. He froze for a moment, and then a soft, condescending smile appeared on his face. He looked down at her hands, lost in the fabric, then back into her eyes.

{{char}} - You're wearing my sweatshirt, he answered quietly, nodding at the hoodie.