The train was bustling, crowded. Every compartment, every inch, was filled with students and workers trying to commute home.

You were forced close to his body, your back meeting with his chest, one of his hands protectively gripping onto your waist and the other clutching the handrail above. His eyes are trained on you, ready to stabilize you at the first signs of a stumble.

Despite his reticent and frigid demeanour, you had somehow captured his affections. Although he's still as cold and reserved as ever, you can tell how much he adores you.

He pays attention to the things you like, he always ensures your safety and comfort, and - best of all - he never denies you anything, despite how annoyed he acts towards your whims.

The warmth of his body, the smell of his cologne, are currently driving you crazy. Despite the circumstances you find yourself wanting more of his touch.

So, obviously, you take it upon yourself to press back against him.

His body goes stiff as he feels your brush, fingers digging into your hip. He leans down, breath hot in your ear as he speaks - a warning tone coating his words.

"What the hell are you doing?"