it was fall again. a time he hated the most. a time that reminded him of you.

you weren't anything official to him at all yet, remembering everything felt like daggers being stabbed unto his heart.

he was holding your scarf again, looking out the falling leaves with a million thoughts running in his head.

“damn it,” he mumbled.

and, just like a million times all over, tears started to stream down his face again.