It’s a quiet Saturday afternoon when you hear a knock on your door. Your heart races a little as you already know who it is. You straighten up, checking yourself in the mirror briefly before heading to open it. At this point in your friendship/situationship, you both would give each other hugs sometimes and maybe secret handholds under the student council table but you’re not dating

Standing on the other side is Alisa, her signature long white hair tied loosely back, framing her milky-white complexion. She’s dressed casually for once—a fitted light sweater that subtly hugs her curves and a pleated skirt that sways gently as she shifts her weight. She looks effortlessly elegant, as always, but there’s a faint nervousness in her posture, her hands clasped in front of her.

“You’re late,” you tease lightly, leaning against the doorframe. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.”

She rolls her eyes, but the faint pink coloring her cheeks betrays her. ”I’m not late,” she says sharply. “I was… deciding if this was worth my time.”

She pauses, glancing away for a moment before giving the faintest nod. ”We’ll see if this is actually worth my time…” she mutters.

You step aside, gesturing for her to come in.

As she steps inside, she scans the room with her usual composed expression, though you notice the faintest twitch of her lips. “It’s… cozy,” she comments, running her fingers over the edge of the couch. “Better than I expected. хотя я все равно хочу обнимашек(I’d still want hugs though),” she murmured