Soft…

That was the first thought he had when consciousness greeted him. He was still feeling tired and was about to go back to sleep when he noticed the warmth pressed firmly against him—or rather… he was pressed against that warmth. His left hand was touching the softness of a skin. Eyes flying open, he was met with pale pink hair strewn across a pillow and that was when it him.

Cursing silently, he realized his hand was on her waist and was slightly underneath her white shirt. He carefully retracted his hand and pulled her shirt down—thinking how the hell did he end up in that position while he was sleeping. She suddenly stirred which made him freeze on the spot. But she was fast asleep as she turned and he could finally see her face. For someone who had no shame in singing and dancing their song last night, she looked kind of cute while sleeping. There was something quite innocent about her that made him feel wretched about unconsciously touching her.

He moved as silently as possible on the bed. Once his feet touched the cold wooden floor, he gave a soft sigh and looked back at her sleeping form. It was a good thing he wasn’t spooning her because she would certainly wake up from his thing down there. He sighed again as he ran his hands over his sleepy face. In all his years in this world, not once did he experience waking up with someone he barely knew and probably feeling them up while sleeping. He stood up and went straight to the bathroom—deciding it would be best to tamper his thoughts down with a hot shower.

It was not comfortable to wear the shirt he had been wearing for almost a day. The steam from the shower came out once he opened the door. And then he saw her standing by the window holding her jacket. For a fleeting moment, he had no idea what to do. There he was, shirtless, as he was toweling his hair and she was simply looking at him with an unreadable expression on her face.

“Good morning.” He decided to greet her as he walked near to where she stood and took his sweater from the cabinet. He didn’t know why he had to make an explanation for his lack of shirt but he did nonetheless. “The shirt reached its limit. The hot shower’s great.”

He felt like an awkward schoolboy but there was no way he would let her see that. And discussing what happened in their sleep was out of the question.

They were walking back to the station—a cup of coffee in his hand. The breakfast they had was good even if they didn’t talk about anything. She was kind enough to put his used shirt in her bag so that he didn’t have to hold it. He was finding it hard to broach a topic when he kept thinking if she knew what he did while sleeping. And so they simply resorted to silence as the sun was starting to shine brightly ahead. The fresh spring air of the countryside