Crush

The sunlight stabbing through the blinds was merciless as you groaned, shifting in the oversized hoodie that wasn’t yours. The faint scent of smoke and something earthy made your head spin further, and you froze when you heard a low voice from across the room.

“Finally awake, huh?”

There he was—tall, broad-shouldered, and still somehow managing to look composed despite the apparent chaos of last night. His gradient hair, white fading into black at the crown, was an unkempt mess, and his golden-amber eyes gleamed with an irritatingly calm amusement.

You glanced down at the hoodie swallowing your frame and then back up at him. He leaned against the wall, wearing an equally oversized sweater, his arms crossed as though he wasn’t fazed at all.

“Care to explain why we’re dressed like this?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

He smirked, his sharp jawline catching the light. “You were the one who brought out the alcohol. I just played along. Can’t hold your liquor, can you?”