Strawberry and cotton candy-swirled marshmallow or whatever filled her room as she stepped out, towel around her neck, hair still dripping.
"La la la la laaaaaaaa," she sang off-key like a Disney princess on caffeine overdose, twirling dramatically.
She caught me staring for half a second too long.
"HA! Pervert!" she yelled, whacking me in the face with a pillow like it was her life's calling.
I rolled my eyes. "It's not like it's thrilling to see."
But I turned toward the window, mostly to hide how fast my brain was buffering.
And then—
I felt it.
A hug.
No warning. Just a sudden, tight squeeze from behind, her arms locking around my waist like I was a giant teddy bear. Her cheek pressed into my back. Her wet hair soaked through my shirt.
My heart? Full-on anime thudding.
Her scent wrapped around me like… I don't even know. A scented letter? A trap? A warm memory I didn't know I had?
"Not thrilling, huh?" she whispered, voice low and dangerously amused.
Then—boom—I was pushed. Dragged. Launched onto the bed like it was a battlefield.
She climbed up, kneeling, her legs on either side of mine. Her towel gone. Already in nightwear.
Hold up.
Hold. Up.
Was she human? Or a fever dream sponsored by glitter and chaos?
"Am I not hot, hmm?" she said, leaning down like she was trying to melt my nervous system.
"Uhh… you're… uhmm…." I stuttered, brain officially on strike.
She was enjoying this. The way her smile curved. The way her eyes sparkled like she knew exactly how many marbles she just snatched from my sanity.
Then—closer.
So close I felt her breath.
So close my soul packed a suitcase and prepared for impact.
Was this it?
Were we about to—
"PER~VERT!" she screamed, collapsing beside me and laughing so hard she wheezed.
She rolled around, hitting me with another pillow like this was the best sitcom she ever starred in.
I just lay there. Speechless. Emotionally bruised. Slightly in love. Possibly concussed.
---
"You're not sleeping on my bed without a proper shower, Shin-chan," she said, her voice sing-song and suspiciously authoritative.
I scoffed. "You think I'm actually gonna sleep on your bed? Yeah, right."
This girl had to be out of her mind if she thought I was crashing in the same bed. With her. In that nightwear. With my anxiety.
She raised an eyebrow, her elbow propping her head up while her other hand twirled her curls like she was in a toothpaste commercial. "Uhuuu, so you can't hold your composure?"
"Help," I said, completely deadpan. "Didn't know I was brought here to be seduced and murdered."
She giggled like I wasn't dying internally, then chucked another pillow at my face.
"Go shower already, dirty boy!"
"Of course I'm going to shower," I muttered, dragging myself off the bed like a man headed to the guillotine.
"Good! I'll get you something to wear!"
Wait—clothes?
She better not mean something glittery and scented.
I walked into the bathroom.
Instant whiplash.
It smelled like fruit snacks, vanilla candles, and maybe a unicorn with anxiety. Girly stuff everywhere—soaps with words like "luminous" and "detoxifying," tiny bottles labeled "serum," "essence," "dream skin," whatever that meant.
What happened to just… soap?
But as I turned the shower on, water rushing and steam curling up, my thoughts didn't stay on the ridiculous shampoo bottle shaped like a jellyfish.
They went back to the bag.
The one in the drawer.
The one filled with syringes.
Pills.
Weird scary syrups.
Too many.
Drugs no normal teen should be touching.
I let the water run over me, but I couldn't stop thinking.
She was smiling. Laughing. Twirling her hair and singing like life was a joke.
But something about that bag whispered—
"It's not."
*********************************
Don't ask me how.
Even I don't know how I ended up in her bed.
All I know is: I was facing the wall.
A pillow sat between us like some makeshift boundary.
But it didn't help.
I was still hyper-aware of every breath she took.
I just stared at the wall, blank. Overloaded.
Like my brain was buffering.
"Psst, Cloud Boy. You up?"
She whispered like there were ten other people in the room, not just us in this stupid pink-glowing chaos of a night.
"What, you want me to sing you a lullaby?" I said, dry as ever.
She giggled. "Nooo. I just wanted to check if you're up.
...But lullaby sounds great."
Silence. Maybe a minute. Maybe more.
Then—
"You know why I call you Cloud Boy?"
I shrugged. "Because you thought I was a cloud?"
"Nope," she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.
"It's because… you were always moody. Quiet. Alone.
Like a sad little cloud.
But you also looked—kinda bright sometimes. Like, when the sun hits a cloud just right, y'know?"
I didn't know what to say, so I just blinked at the wall. Still buffering.
"I used to watch you during class," she continued. "I noticed things. And the day I finally met you… that wasn't random. I waited. I waited till you left so I could follow you.
And thank God I saw you at that shelter."
My heart. I don't even know what it was doing anymore.
It cracked. Melted. Glitched out.
Why was she saying all this? Why me?
"I like being around you, Shin."
Her voice was softer now. Like it didn't need to be loud to reach me.
"You make me feel...alive."
Then a quiet pause.
"Goodnight, Shin-chan."
I felt her shift, pulling the blanket up, turning away.
And me? I was just there.
Still staring. Still quiet.
But something in me had changed.
Or was starting to.
Like… maybe the cloud was finally letting a little sunlight in.