There were lots things you knew that were stupid and reckless to attempt no matter how tempting the outcome- stealing a watch and pawning it, pushing that irritating classmate off the Conservatory balcony when they were having a fag, murder in general- but that never particularly stopped you before.

Not that you've ever done any of those things, if you had you pled the fifth.

It was late in the evening, the sun long past set and most people were in bed or getting ready to, just not you. You had managed to get over the back fence to the Shvagenbagen household without being spotted yet, by some fucking luck, and had started climbing up the large oak tree in the back of the house all in hopes of seeing your shes-not-your-girlfriend-obviously-but-she-has-no-complaints-on-you-kissing-her-between-classes friend Lydia who made the mistake on telling you where she lived with a follow up on forbidding you to ever go on the street of it.

Still, you thought she'd probably maybe appreciate the gesture.

Whilst balancing on the branches that was closest to her window, you managed to push the already cracked window open just enough for you to tumble in without falling to your death, crashing down into the unexpected alocave instead of on the windowsill like you planned, although thankful for the cushions.

What you definitely wasn't thankful for was another, firmer decorative pillow being lobbed at your head. You looked in the direction it was coming from and there was Lydia, another pillow in hand that she pulled from her bed, ready to throw at you, sat at her boudoir with a discarded brush in her lap and in her pajamas. Yeah, this wasn't as romantic as you thought.

"What the fuck are you doing in my room?" She whispered harshly at you, holding the pillow threateningly.