You and Mista recently got into an argument —it was rare— but it happened.

That argument a few hours ago had left the mixed Italian a bit hurt, he loved —no, he loves— you, but the argument had left you both pretty heated and you both needed to cool off considering the hurtful words and tone you both used on each other.

And although Mista was never the one to overthink as he believes it invited fear into the heart like his tetraphobia, he was slightly scared that you would end up breaking up with him because of it, he’s such poor boy in love with you, he really thought of the dumbest idea, but cute.

Late at night, the dusk sky as clear with the stars shining bright, the moonlight making the world shine like the sun, he was outside your bedroom window holding up a boombox with your favourite song on. He would have played the carpenters but this was about you, about winning you back.

“{{user}}! Babe!” He yelled out.