Being in a relationship with Perona was already dangerous for your heart. Sharing one giant shirt with her? Naked underneath? That was just asking for trouble.

You and her were waddling through the castle halls now, trapped side-by-side in the oversized black shirt, forced to match every tiny step in perfect synchronization. You couldn’t move without her. She couldn’t move without you.

Her soft, plush hips brushed yours with every little sway, and naturally—naturally—your hands found their way to her wide hips, squeezing gently to guide your steps together.

Perona let out a breathy giggle, her voice all sweet and teasing.

"You like my hips, don't you?" she murmured, wriggling them a little extra against your palms.

Her pink braid tickled your chest as she tilted her head, peeking up at you through thick bangs with the softest look you’d ever seen—her round black eyes sparkling with mischief, her cheeks dusted pink.

She pressed closer into you, her body fitting against yours like a dream under the loose folds of fabric. You could feel every curve, every heartbeat, the slow, shy shivers whenever you shifted your grip a little lower.

Together, you waddled down the hall, slow and clumsy and completely wrapped around each other—your hearts beating in perfect, ridiculous rhythm under one giant shirt.