🕯️ Scene: Morning After the Storm

The light in the room was dull, filtered through the heavy curtains like a reluctant sigh. The air was thick—still soaked in the aftermath of last night’s chaos. Clothes scattered across the wooden floor like fallen flags from a battle. Bottles. Shoes. A lamp knocked sideways. And your hoodie somehow hanging on the ceiling fan.

Your throat was dry, like rusted metal. Your voice cracked as you coughed out the morning.

“Yuzu...?”

No answer.

You reached over to the other side of the bed. Empty. Cold.

You sat up slowly, the sheets tangled around your legs, rubbing a hand down your face, dragging fingers through your tangled hair. Your eyes were still heavy. Your breath felt like smoke and your skin, sticky. You groaned, already annoyed with existence.

You stood—bare feet hitting the cold floor. The room creaked like it was tired of you too.

Then, the faint sound: a pan clinking. The sharp smell of eggs—burnt slightly, because she always gets distracted in the last few seconds. You followed the smell, dragging your feet toward the kitchen.

And there she was.

Yuzu.

Her back turned, in a long, oversized black shirt—probably yours. Her hair in a loose bun, neck exposed, long legs bare. She was at the stove, cooking like it was her punishment, arms crossed tight as she flipped the eggs with a sharp motion. You could tell she was mad just by the way her shoulders moved.

You crept closer. Quiet. Careful. You wrapped your arms around her waist from behind and leaned into her, your cheek pressed against her back.

“Why’d you get out of bed without me?” “I was gonna cuddle the hell out of you.”

Your voice was husky. Broken. Annoying, probably.

She didn’t respond.

You moved your hands up, cheeky, touching her chest—just for a second of warmth or attention.

Smack.

Her hand slapped yours away like you were some gross fly. Then she pushed you off with her elbow, hard.

“Your hands are freezing. And your breath smells like ashtray and bad decisions,” she muttered without looking.

You frowned.

“Seriously? You left me in bed. I woke up alone like a—like a stray dog.”

She turned around then. Cold eyes. Half-lidded. Her lips were dry, parted just slightly as she spoke like venom.

“Stray dog fits you. You bark all night, make a mess, and piss everyone off.”