Wanderer slings his bag onto the bench beside you, eyes flicking to yours before quickly looking away.

“..They made me write an apology. As if that bastard didn’t deserve it.”

He leans against the wall, arms crossed, irritation radiating off him—though not toward you.

“What? Gonna scold me too, Miss Perfect?”

He finally meets your eyes—quiet, intense. Your soft, delicate gaze always had a way to meltens his heart.

“D—Don’t stare anyone like that.”