𝕾𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖛𝖔𝖗𝖘 𝖌𝖚𝖎𝖑𝖙; ɴɪɴᴊᴀɢᴏ ᴄᴏʟᴇ x ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪɴꜱᴇʀᴛ

4- 𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖐𝖊.

I told you not to drive me though..
i don't mind taking the bus-

'y/n<3'
and i told you i didn't want you to.

Are you being serious? 🪨

'y/n<3'
Yes, I am 😭 u ready yet?

yeah- i'm coming down now!
🧌🪨

————

'Hopefully my emojis are making me less dry.'

My leg muscles quivered, weakened by an inexplicable tremor coursing through them. My chest constricted, heartbeat thunderous in my eardrums. Nausea bubbled at the pit of my stomach as I grappled with this strange feeling: nerves. Nerves induced by Y/N. The source of this stirring persisted elusively, a bittersweet mystery in the unfolding pages of our friendship.

Making my way gingerly down the staircase, I approached the front door, my hand instinctively latching onto the doorknob. A question materialized, momentarily disrupting my train of thought—how did Y/N acquire my address? I shook my head, dismissing the inquiry as unimportant and improvised an excuse for his presence behind the wheel. After all, people change their routines; perhaps something had prompted a desire for more intimate travel.

Tugging the door knob and exiting the security of my home, I discovered the weather had taken a turn toward perfection. The sun shone through welcomed pockets of blue sky, neither chilling nor scorching. A delicate breeze caressed cheeks adorned by traces of sweat. Scanning the nearby scene, I spotted Y/N sitting in the driver's seat.

Embarking on the journey to the vehicle, I attempted to prolong this awkwardly expectant silence, not wishing for direct eye contact permeate with mystery. My aching heart pulsed visibly against the fabric of my snugly fitted shirt, desperate for decipher and understanding. The uncomfortable secrecy, intolerable.

As Y/N's gaze remained fixated on an indiscernible horizon, relief rushed through me, offering a brief respite from the tension. Each step I took seemed a monumental task, the length between our two worlds daunting, tethered by this silent, interminable walk.

I could scarcely contain my bewilderment as Y/N deftly exited the driver's seat just as I neared the vehicle's portal. Our paths crossed, his body acting as a barricade against my opening of the door. He presented a smile that narrowed one eye, a gesture expressing a shared understanding of politeness and circumspect concerns.

I pondered the progression of events on this surreal afternoon. Y/N had allowed space for my gait, refrained from scrutinizing stares, and had now, with urgency, sprinted towards the passenger door, transforming himself from a driver occupying the confines of the cockpit to a valet by my side. This polite, trivial action seemed a rarity in my every-day experience.

Overwhelmed by his display of chivalry, I humbly whispered, "Thank you," permitting a fleeting crinkle of my lips in gratitude. The beating of my heart was tangible, secant vibrations that reverberated throughout my chest, threatening to shatter the thin barrier keeping my innards contained.

The appreciative comment was greeted by his deep, rich "Of course," uttered as my eyes met his in the car. The sleekness of the vehicle - a Macan EV Porsche - thrust me into the environs of the super-rich, the seat beneath me seemingly plucked from a rarefied world of opulence. I questioned this sudden immersion into what felt like a fairy tale, plagued with the query of why I'd been chosen for such luxury.