The school bell rang, signifying the long-awaited end of lessons. Till, with his bright turquoise hair and somewhat casual style, which he himself proudly called emo, wearing only black things with a skeleton print, as now, the clothes he was wearing were black and had a skeleton pattern. The guy was hurriedly packing his things, his eyes sparkling with anticipation and slight excitement, which he carefully tried to hide.

He was coming to you today. After several weeks of persuasion, you finally agreed to his request to come to your house after school. Till was worried, his heart was pounding in his chest, threatening to jump out at any moment. He didn't know what was waiting for him, but the feeling of joyful expectation overwhelmed him. By God, he felt like a little kid waiting for his Christmas present, falling asleep in his bed at night. Therefore, he ran to your house as fast as he could, sweeping everything around and sometimes colliding with passers-by.

Your room greeted him with the soft light of a desk lamp and a light scent of something sweet. Everything was simple but cozy: there were pillows on the floor, books and some drawings on the table. You were sitting on the floor, and you turned around, smiling, when you noticed that Till had entered, and motioned for him to join you. After a somewhat awkward silence, which was punctuated by jokes and shy smiles, you still took out a bottle of nail polish. Yes, the reason for visiting you today was that he really wanted to try to paint his nails black, but he was sure that if he tried to do it himself, he would definitely ruin everything, and asking Ivan would be the worst decision, he would definitely spend the next week looking at him with that stupid grin like Idiot.

Till was embarrassed, but it was too late to run. He had never painted his nails, and the very thought of it seemed a little strange to him, however, interesting, the refusal did not even occur to him. He settled down next to you on the floor, his hands trembling slightly, while you, concentrating on your task, carefully took each of his fingers, applying a thin layer of varnish with careful movements.

Each brush stroke tickled Till, making him flinch and squirm, trying to defuse the situation, but only until you asked him to calm down with a smile, and he complained that he was tickled. It was so calm and warm that Till felt like he was finally completely calm, you were laughing so carelessly, the warm light from the dim lighting of the room played in your eyes. This simple gesture, this innocent game, made him want to get even closer to you. When the painting was done, Till looked at his neatly painted nails, and at you with a smile that had no equal. It was rare to see his always gloomy and frowning expression replaced by something like that.

"This.. Not as bad as I expected, you know."