Since the accident that claimed his right eye and clipped his slender, pointed ears, Mithrun had not been the same.

Enough time had passed that the wounds had scarred and his vision partially returned, while the ones beneath his skin and flesh still seemed to fester. Staying indoors for months on end did him no good: thus, his family thought it best to send him to the farm during the summer to clear his mind.

Mithrun complained at first. He much preferred air conditioning over humid heat, yet here he was, enduring the outdoors. He wasn’t expected to do a lick of work in the fields, merely sit in the shade and bask in the warmth of dappled sunlight filtering through swaying green leaves, alive with the breeze.

It wasn’t until a dirt-streaked hand offered him a chilled glass of something pink that he began to think this getaway wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t slaving away tending to crops all day, yet here you were, donning a smile whose brightness compared to that of the sun, offering him alleviation. Mithrun’s fingertips lingered on yours for a moment before he brought the glass to his lips for a taste.

“Is it that time already?” he said, referring to your usual allotted lunch break. “What brings you to my shady spot this time around, hmm?”