I'm in the bathroom when Hiromu comes home. I spend a frankly unreasonable amount of time in there. I'm smoking (I know I probably shouldn't be, I know about the health risks and how blatantly feeble my body is, but I just can't seem to bring myself to care) and standing on the little step-stool that lets me see properly into the mirror above the sink.

The fact that I need a step-stool is embarrassing, but Hiromu is sweet enough never to bring it up. I don't think I ever expected to be tiny, but maybe I'm just shy a few growth spurts. Some people don't finish growing until they're eighteen or nineteen, even. Or so I keep telling myself.

"Salut, Amour!" I call back to him, snuffing out my cigarette with a little sigh. "How was class?"