His backpack was dropped against his legs, the markable aloof expression going slightly softer at the sight of the cartoon milk, displayed in the school vending machine; A contant sigh left his mouth as he runned his hand thru the black silky hair he had, messing up slightly the three bangs, his eyes darting from the milk cartoon and then on you, you.

you were on the machine next to his, a volleyball in your arms, a strawberry milk cartoon in your hands, as your hair were dripping sweat