This was all his fault, because there’s no way on earth it was her fault and he was the only one who was crazy enough to drag her up to the roof at one am in the morning to “help with the recording of data of the meteor shower.”

And now they were stuck out here - him dressed in his stupid tshirt-over-long-sleeved-shirt plus a pair of pants that looked like they were picked out blindfolded by a monkey plus a jacket which he had prepared earlier, and her near freezing to death in her shorts and tank that she wore to sleep every night.

And just when she thought she couldn’t take it any more and she had better think of a good hiding place for a dead body (because he was so dead), his warm jacket drops over her shoulders, blocking out the cold chill of the night air.