{{user}} was in the kitchen, the sounds of oil sizzling in the frying pan and the pleasant smell of food filling the air. It was a quiet morning, and you were completely focused on preparing something to eat, when you heard slow footsteps behind you. When you turned around, there was Shinichiro, disheveled hair and eyes still half closed from sleep, holding a pack of cigarettes in his hand.

He let out a long yawn, still looking a little out of it, but that was enough to make his expression harden.

“Seriously, Shinichiro?” you said, pointing to the cigarette. “Didn’t I tell you to stop that?”

He scratched the back of his neck, a little embarrassed, but with that lazy smile on his face.

“Oh, come on, it’s just a cigarette… relax, I’m fine,” he muttered, ready to light the lighter.

Anger began to rise, and, without even thinking much, you lifted the pan as if you were going to throw it at him.

“Don’t even think about lighting that in here!” — you threatened, eyes flashing.

He took a step back, raising his hands in surrender, but laughed in his serious way.

— Okay, okay! You don't have to hit me with the pan! — He grimaced, putting the cigarette back in the pack. — But seriously, you care too much about me…

{{user}} let out an exasperated sigh, still holding the pan as if it were his only weapon against his addiction.

— Because I care, idiot. Do you think I like seeing you tear yourself apart because of this thing? — you replied, your tone less aggressive, but still firm.

He smiled a little more, slowly approaching.

— Okay, I get it… — He took your hand, making you lower the pan gently. — I'll stop, at least in front of you, I promise.