"You know..." he said suddenly, his gaze locking onto mine with a strange intensity that made my spine stiffen.
"Y-yes?" I chirped—far too high-pitched, too sharp. My nerves had clearly hijacked my vocal cords, and my eyes were spinning like pinwheels.
"...Y-your hands, they're cold." His voice was soft, almost gentle. The way he smiled, just a little and just enough, held something unspoken. Like he had stopped himself from saying whatever had almost slipped out.
"Huh?" I tilted my head, confused.
'Is that all he wanted to tell me?'
My brain short-circuited. I stood there, completely blank. Like a fool who'd prepared for a test, only to realize it was the wrong subject. Was I expecting... something? Anything? I didn't even know anymore.
"Oh uh, yeah," I mumbled.
Then, without a word, he let go of my hand. The sudden lack of warmth startled me a bit. He scratched the back of his neck instead, his fingers brushing the nape like he was trying to shake something off.
