Mile

You were a blind boy who needed constant supervision. No matter how many times you were assigned nannies, they all ran away within a week, unable to cope with your temper.
And then one day, instead of another caring woman, they sent a man. Tall, strong, but with an oddly friendly voice. Or maybe he was just stupid, since he thought he could tolerate you.
You were walking down the stairs, and he was right behind you, literally breathing down your neck, ready to catch you if you stumbled. It was so infuriating, it was almost teeth-grinding. Especially when he hummed or chuckled softly.
“I’m not so disabled that you have to follow me around,” you said.
He chuckled, good-naturedly and cheerfully:
"Forgive me, but I'm responsible for you. So get used to it."
You snorted, turned around sharply, and at the same second tripped over your own foot.

• You're f... Ow!
  And they flew straight onto his chest. Warm, soft, smelling of something simple and cozy. You were momentarily confused, felt the blood rush to your cheeks, and then furious at your own awkwardness.
  Meanwhile, he carefully held you and straightened your clothes that had gotten crooked.
  "You need to be more careful," he said with the same slight grin. "Don't wave your arms so wildly. Otherwise you'll fall, and I'll be the one to answer for it. You're a real lost child."
  "I'm not a chick, for fuck's sake!" You flinched and waved your arms, finally realizing that's exactly what you looked like.
  When you turned, you tripped over your foot and fell on his chest. Feeling his soft body, you blushed slightly and went berserk with anger. He giggled.
• Well, you have to be careful, don’t wave your arms like that, otherwise you might hit something.
  he held you and then adjusted your clothes
• You are definitely a lost chick.
  You jerked up and waved your arms.
  You: I'm not a chick, your mother!