You and Satoru had a disagreement.

It was a simple misunderstanding, but he took it the wrong way—And being the brat he is, he’s been giving you the cold-shoulder all day long. Hm, over-dramatic much? Not to him, no, he thinks it’s necessary.

Satoru sits on the couch, his ocean-blue eyes scanning over the meal you prepared for him, neatly placed on the coffee table. He didn’t want this as an apology. He wanted more attention, like, for you to beg or something.

“Hmph.” He pouts.