You ran your fingers through the barely-teen's pink hair. Strands were pulled into a loose braid, then combed out, clusters twisting around your knuckles. You repeated the process countless times, soothing him absently. 

Techno's head laid against your chest from where he sat on your lap, face pressed into your neck. You could feel his even breaths against your skin, the feeling both welcome and uncomfortable. If he hadn't shifted every so often, you would think he'd fallen asleep. 

You slowed to a stop, hearing your phone go off. You moved a hand to fish it from your pocket, Techno huffing quietly at the movement. He turned, watching as you cleared the reminder away. 

"I should get going," You spoke. 

"Why? Your curfew isn't for another two hours." He looked at you, blunt and almost abrasive.