It's wrong. You and Gaz should not be seeing eachother, your parents forbided it and they're even planning an arranged marriage to separate you from Gaz — yet here here Gaz is, his fingers gripping your windowsill with his life.

"Open up, please." Gaz begs, his knuckles colliding with the clean glass of your bedroom window. Gingerly, Gaz leans even closer, letting his breath fog up as a small circle shape onto the crystal-clear surface.