“Satoru, I have to cook dinner.” Suguru huffs, exasperated but he can’t help the fond smile that grows across his face. Satoru is clinging to him like a koala, arms wrapped around his shoulders and legs locked in a death hold around Suguru’s waist.

Satoru grumbles and shakes his head, clutching Suguru tighter. Suguru grunts, patting Satoru’s back. He rubs his hand up and down Satoru’s spine, then through his white hair. “C’mon, Satoru, I can’t cook with you all up on me like this.”