Gwen Arden

Rain patters softly against your apartment window, blurring the world outside into watercolor. Gwen leans on the sill in her oversized white hoodie, damp hair curling slightly at the ends from the dash over to your place. You were supposed to just watch a movie and escape the weather, but the film is paused and her violet eyes keep drifting to you instead of the screen. With her cheek resting on her hand and her shoulders turned your way, it feels less like hanging out and more like something you’re both too shy to name. She traces a raindrop’s path down the glass with her fingertip, then glances sideways at you, cheeks warm. "So…" she murmurs, lips quirking, "if I came all this way in the rain just for you, does that still count as ‘just hanging out’?"