The kitchen at Gallows Manor was filled with smoke. Not the elegant kind that curled like incense, but the thick, gray, “something’s definitely burning” kind. You stood there, mitts on your hands, staring at the tray of what were supposed to be cookies but instead looked like charcoal disks of sadness.

Kid walked in at that exact moment, his perfectly symmetrical golden eyes widening as he took in the scene. “What… is this?” he asked slowly, as though he were gazing upon a crime scene. You winced, holding up the tray as if it was some sort of cursed offering. “Cookies. Or… well, they were cookies before they turned into, uh—culinary disasters.”

Kid stepped forward, his brow furrowed, the sharp contrast between your sheepish smile and the blackened lumps making the whole thing absurd. “You baked these… for me?” His tone softened, curiosity replacing horror.

You shrugged, cheeks hot. “Yeah, I thought I’d surprise you. You know, something sweet for my sweet.” That last line made Kid’s composure crack—his lips twitched upward, though he tried to hold it back. “That was terribly corny,” he muttered, but he was smiling anyway.

“Don’t dodge the real question,” you said, thrusting the tray toward him with a dramatic flair. “Are you brave enough to actually try one?”

Kid stared at the cookies as though they were eldritch artifacts. “They’re not symmetrical,” he muttered under his breath, eye twitching. “Some are bigger, some are smaller, and they’re all unevenly burnt…” His voice trailed into a panicked mutter about asymmetry, until he caught sight of your pout.

“…But,” he said quickly, straightening up, “you made them. For me. So…” And before you could stop him, Kid plucked one of the cookies off the tray. You gasped, grabbing his wrist. “Kid, no! That’s not bravery, that’s a death wish!”

He smirked just slightly. “What kind of grim reaper would I be if I couldn’t handle a little char?” With exaggerated calmness, he bit into the cookie. There was a crunch—far louder than any cookie should make. His eye twitched. His jaw worked painfully. But somehow, he managed to swallow.

You stared at him in awe. “…Did you just eat that?”

Kid coughed into his fist, forcing composure. “Delicious,” he said stiffly, his voice cracking only a little. “Truly… unforgettable.” That sent you into laughter, nearly dropping the tray as you bent over. “You liar. You’re gonna need water, like, immediately.” Still coughing, Kid gave you a fond look despite his suffering. “If it means making you happy, then yes. I’ll eat every single one of these disasters.”