Tink. Silence. Tink. Silence. Tink.

You groaned and rolled out of bed, moving to your window and drawing the curtains open swiftly. Your eyes found the figure of a familiar indigo-haired boy dressed lazing in a hoodie and shorts, your neighbor, Scaramouche… throwing pebbles at your window at 11PM at night.

You annoyedly opened the window and peeked out, met with his satisfied smirk of what he felt was victory.

“Hurry up and get down here, idiot.” He called.