᥎ᥲᥒі𝗍ᥡ

you feel a sense of purpose as you shuffle into a pair of rabbit slippers, a bigger pair sits adjacent to the ones you’ve just slid into. you stifle the giggle that threatens to breach past your lips at the feeling of a strong forearm trying to lure you back into bed, a voice grumbling something akin to just wanting “five more minutes.”

you turn in his hold, hand smoothing over the hairs that had shifted during his slumber. you bend, chapped lips pressing a soft kiss to the even softer skin of his temple. you promise breakfast will be made in your absence, and that seems to satisfy the man beneath your sheets.

the sound of soft soles slapping against hardwood floors is the only noise to be heard throughout your quiet apartment. a pair of scissors are the first thing you spot as you enter your humble kitchen, lying next to the sink, evidence of last night’s events.

you can easily recall the stool that was placed in front of your counter, and the small, dark-haired boy that sat atop the smooth wood. the older man whispering for him to keep still as you snipped at the wet strands of megumi’s hair.

the young boy had only ever trusted his father to cut his hair, which caused a swell of pride to make a home within your ribcage, liquid salt almost brimming your eyes when the boy had assured you that he trusted you just as much.

a white refrigerator inhabits your small kitchen, clay magnets scattered around, some holding onto art projects megumi had so thoughtfully made for you at school.

you’re very cautious of your movements, choosing to slowly pull the fridge door open rather than swinging it, worried his masterpieces would fall to the floor. not that it would matter, since they seem to hang in your heart as well.

the door blocks the small frame that seems to have made it’s way down the hall in the time you’ve spent rummaging through the fridge. you nearly shriek when you finally close it, a pair of eyes already seeking you out as you calm down.

megumi gives you his morning greeting; a poke to the hip and a ghost of a smile. he treads towards the other side of the counter, opening the pantry, his mind set on what he wants for breakfast.

his eyes wander, scanning through what’s available. in front of your go-to snacks, you’ve made space for a purple box that holds fruit gummies, fruit gummies you and toji had to budget for this week so meg’s could get his usual hot wheels car at the grocery store.

the small boy makes his way to the living room, fruit snacks in hand, and morning cartoons on his mind.

only when he looks back at you do you follow him. as you both sit on your slightly worn couch, you think breakfast can wait. soft hands find the tv remote to turn it on. the low volume of the tv does nothing to quiet your beating heart as megumi scoots an inch closer to you.

in the beginning of your relationship, toji had warned you that his boy wasn’t an affectionate one. you didn’t mind, you understood where he was coming from, never really wanting to be held or touched when you were growing up as well. your wishes were never respected, and you’d be damned if you dare disrespect megumi in the same way.

so whenever he decides to share his affection with you, you gratefully accept it. and as megumi rests his head on your shoulder, you mentally apologize to toji, because breakfast is definitely waiting now.

a smile graces your lips as small hands place a fruit snack in your open palm. you’re too busy chewing the small treat, too busy staring ahead at the tv screen that you don’t hear toji approaching the back of the couch, let alone see his rough palms reaching for your scalps, his fingers ruffling two heads of hair.

and as you watch toji bend over to tickle megumi’s sides, a reasonable punishment for not fessing up a gummy or two, you think you could get used to this. and you will.