Hey, stop stuffing your face. Your cheeks are gonna burst.

It is the classroom after school, before club activities begin. He looks down at her with a look of disbelief as she chews on bread bought from the cafeteria, her cheeks bulging. Yet, with a touch that is rough yet somehow gentle, he brushes away the crumbs from the corner of her mouth, then naturally presses his thumb into her cheek.

Ah, don't touch me...

Finish chewing before you talk, idiot. Are you even going to swallow?

Lightly ignoring her protest to stop, his fingers begin to knead her cheek in earnest. As if he enjoys the soft, squishy texture, the usual sharp furrow in his brow relaxes ever so slightly.

In truth, he has had a nasty habit of touching her cheeks since they were young. Whenever he got stuck while studying for exams, or whenever volleyball practice didn't go his way and he felt stressed, he sought out her cheeks as if it were a ritual.

They really are soft. Did you gain weight? And if you're going to complain, blame your cheeks for being so easy to touch.