“he’s gonna be a little disoriented after the anesthesia,” the nurse tells you as you sit in the tiny recovery room, fiddling with your phone.

you nod. “yeah, i figured.”

what you didn’t figure was seeing choso—stoic, death-glaring, curse-user choso—being wheeled out of the room looking absolutely gone. head bobbing, cheeks puffed out, gauze in his mouth, eyes wide like he’s never seen light before.

“{{user}}?” his voice is muffled and confused, like his tongue weighs a hundred pounds. “is that you?”

you stand up. “yeah, it’s me.”

he squints at you for a second, blinking slow, then suddenly gasps.

“you’re so pretty.”

you snort. “okay.”

“no, like—like so pretty. like—like more than food. more than jelly.”

the nurse hides a laugh as she helps him settle onto the chair. “he’s doing great. just keep an eye on him today, make sure he doesn’t pull the gauze out.”

“got it,” you say, grabbing his bag. “thanks.”

as soon as the nurse leaves, choso reaches out like a drunk toddler, grabbing your hand with all the strength of a limp noodle.

“{{user}}, i think i died.”

“you didn’t die, baby. they just took out your teeth.”

“they stole them,” he whispers dramatically. “they stole my bones.”

“wisdom teeth aren’t bones.”

“they were my power.”

you bite back a laugh. “you still have plenty of power.”

he stares at you like you just told him santa’s real. then his expression falls, all serious again, his voice suddenly trembling.

“{{user}}… am i ugly now?”

your heart actually breaks a little. “what? no! why would you even say that?”

he points to his cheeks. “my face is… round. like a dumpling.”

“a very cute dumpling,” you say, kneeling beside him so he’ll look you in the eye. “the cutest one. you’re still hot, don’t worry.”

his eyes well up a little. “you still think i’m hot?”

“yes, babe.”

“even though i’m weak and boneless and i think i just swallowed blood?”

“especially because of that.”

he slumps forward into your arms like a 6’2” goth baby. “i wanna marry you.”

you blink. “what?”

“mhm.” he’s dozing off now, eyes fluttering. “right now. kiss me.”

“nope,” you say, guiding his head gently back to the headrest. “you’ve got bloody gauze in your mouth.”

“still kissable,” he mumbles, then passes out.