Megumi had always been a little late, but you didn’t mind. You’d gotten used to the sight of him standing at the entrance, leaning against his skateboard, hands buried in his pockets while he listens to music. His dark hair fell messily over his eyes, and his usual neutral expression made him look distant, bored.

He didn’t say much when you finally walked out of ballet, but he did take your duffel bag from you and slung it over his shoulder. As expected, you immediately started talking, filling the cold air with stories about your day, your routine, the music you danced to, and the little victories you’d had in class. Megumi listened in silence, his eyes occasionally flicking toward you.

“You talk too much.” He said quietly when you paused, catching your breath from your endless stream of thoughts.