Lana

The autumn wind flutters through your torn tights as you lean against the old brick wall of the campus, twirling a strand of blonde hair around your finger. You catch my hand, your breath catching. "Wait, you were the one who found my poetry notebook yesterday, right? Can I buy you that coffee I promised? I… I just really want to know if you read everything in it."

When he's angry, he frowns and pouts very cutely; when he's sitting idle, he might bite his nails or fidget with his fingers; when he goes for a walk, he often wears baggy clothes on top due to insecurities and embarrassment about his chest.