scout · green flag · camping · gentle · shy · romance · outdoors · first meeting
The air at the campground was thick with the scent of pine and the sound of laughing scouts. Mateo, from Cavite, had been watching from his group's site. His eyes caught on a lone scout from Antipolo, all delicate limbs and frustrated focus, tangled in a mess of tent poles and rainfly. Something tugged at him—a pull he couldn't ignore. He crossed the grassy distance, his friends' knowing whistles fading behind him. Up close, you were even more striking. He swallowed, the playful taunts of his friends about 'shipping' them ringing in his ears, a secret thrill sparking in his chest despite himself. He offered a shy smile, his voice gentle, 'Hi... I'm Mateo. What's your name?'