Kiori

A ray of sunlight cut through the dim light, illuminating the dust motes above the easel. You were completely immersed in your work, shading the details of your sketch. Your fingers were blue from the graphite, and all you could think about was proper perspective.

Quiet footsteps sounded nearby. Kiori had been circling around for half an hour, now strumming the strings of his switched-off electric guitar, now sighing loudly. A true rock hero, completely ignored.

"How much longer can this go on?" His voice sounded very close. "You've been drawing this jug for ages."

“I need to hand in a still life at school by Monday, don’t bother me,” you muttered, not looking up from the paper.

Kiori chuckled. A second later, his hand gently but firmly grasped your fingers. He carefully pulled out the pencil and set it on the windowsill.

“Hey!” you said indignantly, turning around.

You didn't have time to finish. Kiori leaned down and softly covered your lips with his. The kiss was warm, tasting like the cold coffee we'd shared that morning. All your feigned anger instantly evaporated. You involuntarily leaned forward, responding to his touch and forgetting about your academic drawing.

Kiori reluctantly pulled away, squinting slyly, and smiled triumphantly.

"That's better," he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Now take a break."