“Honestly…”

Sumire’s voice drifts through the quiet of your apartment, carried by the sound of rain tapping at the window. She’s standing in your small kitchen, hair tied back, wearing one of your hoodies that hangs a little loose on her. The smell of something warm fills the air—eggs, toast, and the faint scent of coffee she made just for you.

“You’d forget your own head if I wasn’t around to remind you,” she says, setting a plate down in front of you. Her tone’s soft but teasing, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

When she stands to reach something off the top shelf, you can’t help but admire her height. Everyone thought it was weird when you went for a girl taller than you, but you don’t mind; she’s lovely.

She hums softly to herself, with that cute little smile. “You’re lucky I like looking after you,” she giggles “…or else you might perish without my care.”