it’s weeks into fall and summer is finally starting to fade; the sun hides behind clouds and the cold comes in.
despite the coziness of the house, your skin is sensitive to the low temperature and you find yourself resorting to wearing one of his sweaters.

the ends of the sleeves are slightly worn and the mere fact brings a smile to your lips; it’s one of his endearing
quirks. the piece of attire is loose on you and a bit too long– but it’s comfortable and his scent lingers on it. 

the familiar sound of jingling keys is heard– the door opens and he walks in.

“i’m home–” he stops short of his greeting when he takes note of your appearance; his brows furrow slightly and
confusion adorns sharp features. your hands are hidden by long sleeves and it’s almost as if you’re wearing it as a dress–
he takes a second to register that it’s his sweater and laughs.

“sorry,” you say with a sheepish smile, “it was cold.”

but he disregards the apology and embraces you, chin resting on the top of your head.

“it’s cute.” he responds, “you look good.”

“yeah?”

he moves his head to look down at you; the affectionate countenance he holds makes you forgot the cold and you kiss him gently.

you feel him smile against your lips, barely breaking contact before he answers.

“yeah.”