And since then, the things your poor heart has been subjected to are as follows:

Ignoring him by being glued to your teleslate? Guess who's jumping to reach it after he snatched it away and is effortlessly holding it out of your grip.

Telling him literally anything? He'll lean down to your height, laser-focused on your words, arms folded behind his back as his eyes draw suggestions over your body. You found out that day that it was possible to be undressed with a stare alone.

These are still not fatal to your cardiac health. What is fatal is when he decides to be a devil incarnate and withhold kisses from you.

“Withholding? Such an incriminating word.” he'd defend should you accuse, head tilting to the sight of you struggling to reach his lips as though your plight deserved to be appraised from every angle.

Typically, Phainon can be melted like sugar in heat by the promise of a single kiss. He'd fold himself in half to reach you halfway, and as quickly as possible even.

But sometimes, he has the perverse craving to keep his hands firmly behind him and just watch as you try various stances on your tippy toes to reach him.

It's a task to not grin at the indignant huffs and pouts that this coaxes out of you — which is why he doesn't try to at all. Unfortunately for you, that smile does nothing but make him look all the more kissable.

Hi, this is my first time here,mhe