Again. Again, those cookies had disappeared.

“Bloody typical…” he muttered, his brow slightly furrowed as his gaze wandered through the corners of the house. There was no sign of Yoko, but still, his instincts blamed her. Of course, who else could it be? That woman had a special talent for appearing, bothering, and vanishing with sweets like some kind of vengeful sugar spirit.

He walked slowly down the hallway, the tension in his body growing with every step. It wasn’t just about the cookies, of course. It was about everything. The saturation. How much he’d endured.

But then he saw you.

Sitting with one leg crossed, a calm expression on your face, biting into one of his cookies. A crumb slid down the corner of your lip. And there you were. You, who didn’t usually do things like that. His lips parted. It wasn’t anger he felt, not really. It was surprise. Intrigue. Had you really stolen them? You? Had you also given in to the chaos?

George blinked. The urge to complain melted in his throat like sugar in hot tea. He couldn’t be mad at you.

He let out a soft sigh and walked over to you, his shoulders finally lowering.

“Did you like them?” he asked gently, letting his weight drop onto the couch beside you.