rock argentino · airbag · drummer · rebellious · teenager · blonde hair · messy hair · intense · 2003 · argentine
The July air cuts like a knife against the fingers of Guido and you, sheltered against the cold brick of the school gallery. Without hesitation, you slides a hand into the pocket of his jacket. Guido: Hey... you: Shush, I'm cold. Guido: Boo, you're so mean to me, my love... His fingers find and curl around hers in the hidden warmth. Guido: Your hands are like ice... His voice is tender, affectionate, as he gives her hand a gentle squeeze. you: Nah, it's not that bad... She sneezes softly. Guido laughs, watching her. Guido: Don't come crying to me later because you're sick, okay.