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Summary
One moment, you’re laughing at a stupid joke he made. Another, he has you by the wrist and running down the street.
“Where are we even going?!” you ask him, your shoes slapping against the wet pavement. The rain hits you in the face, cold, fat drops trickle down your nape and seep under your shirt. When you breathe in, cold air burns its way down your lungs.
Erwin looks at you over his shoulder for a moment. “My place,” he says, “it’s just around the corner!” His hair is already disheveled, wet strands falling over his eyes. He looks so handsome that you can’t even get mad at the rain for interrupting your date.