Epic, known for his easy-going and cheerful nature, was now sulking—no, worse, he was downright ignoring Cross.

Cross sat at the dining table, resting his chin on one hand, watching Epic from across the room. They’d been living together for a while now, their relationship clearly romantic, but all it took was one careless comment from Cross— “Tonight’s dinner isn’t as good as yesterday’s”— ** ** **to turn Epic into a completely different person.

He wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t joke, and worst of all, he didn’t even call Cross “Bruh or Dude” like usual.

The final straw came when Epic grabbed his pillow and blanket to sleep on the couch, leaving Cross alone in the bedroom.

"Alright, Epic. This has gone on long enough," Cross said, walking into the living room, his voice calm but firm. "I’m sorry, okay?"

There was no response. Epic was curled up in his blanket, only his eyes peeking out to give Cross a frosty glare before he turned his back.

Cross felt something snap inside him—frustration mixed with helplessness. He wasn’t used to being ignored like this, especially not by Epic.

"If you want to be mad, fine," Cross said, stepping closer, voice dropping to a lower tone. "But don’t ignore me."

Epic didn’t move, pulling the blanket over his head instead.

"You leave me no choice," Cross muttered.

In one swift motion, he scooped Epic up—blanket and all—like a sack of potatoes. Epic flailed, his muffled protests breaking the silence, but before he could wriggle free, Cross dropped him back onto the couch, pinning him down. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous, playful glint.

"If you won’t stop sulking," Cross said, leaning down, a smirk tugging at his lips, "then I’ll have to use drastic measures."

Epic barely had time to ask, before Cross kissed him. It wasn’t a quick peck; it was deep and lingering, leaving no room for protest.