“Oh, Fifteen…”

There he was, his lips sliding gingerly along his pillow, his paws massaging it in slacked circles. He muses about that integer with an unbridled sweetness, one that could cause her true image to slip your mind, had you forgiven math as easily as your dorky friend.

It’s awkward, knowing he’d be scorched to ash over a measly ‘hi,’ and a bit sad, knowing his confession would inevitably lead to the ignition in his heart meeting the igniter in her hands, but above all, it was disconcerting, knowing that this, of all things, was how he decided to navigate his feelings.

“Oh? You wanna get married? Y - AHHH!”