My laugh caught him by surprise; I could tell by the tone of his voice. "What is it?"

The kitchen hummed with cooking: a bubbling wok, saucy smells, the occasional 'pop' of the well-loved stove. Minamino moved about with a surety he lacked only weeks ago, stirring this, tasting that, moving the meal steadily toward completion. He ignored the rice cooker's chime at my elbow, arm stretching for the spice rack overhead. My apron tied remained spotless despite the snapping meat, frail frills cushioning the hair fleeing his man bun.

Cooking lessons had been my idea. When we finished late one night and I prepared a simple meal, he was truly amazed, wishing he could the same. I waited for the joke, for him to assure me he was kidding. Surely every adult knew how to cook, at least the bare basics.

But he wasn't joking.

When pressed, he admitted to surviving on takeout and convenience store lunches and, when all else failed, instant ramen. The usual smugness never came; this was something everyone should be able to do, especially Mr. Wonderful. After the meal, I told him to clear his evening schedule completely on dance days because I was teaching him how to cook, free of charge. He should be grateful–

And he was.

"You wouldn't believe the trash people read." I tossed the magazine onto the table and he glanced over, eyeing the bright font. "Look at this."

He obeyed, adding broccoli and chopped carrots to the meat. Green flicked left and right, reading at lightning speed before turning back to his task. "You find dating advice amusing?"

"No, it ticks me off." Sinking into a chair, I glared at pink letters while he cut gas to first one stove eye, then the other, spoon gliding through honey sauce. "Crap like this is why women don't think they're good enough to have a decent man."

Red brows rose as he took the seat beside me, apron still strapped to his shoulders. "How so?"

Snorting, I stabbed at the magazine, nail threatening to break through the waxy page. "'If you find Mr. Right is eluding you, look within – your obstacle may be as close as your mirror.' What does that sound like to you?"

He began to say something but thought better of it, the hint of a smile curling his lips. "At times, we are our own worst enemy. We have discussed this before."

"Yeah but that's not what it's saying. This . . . dick lick is telling readers there's something wrong with them, that they need to change or no one will ever love them."

A contemplative frown. "We all have areas we must improve." He tried again at my glare. "If you do not enjoy the magazine, perhaps you should cancel your subscription."

"You don't get it." Biting back a sigh, I stood, pushing the thing across the table. He watched as I tapped the wood, one arm shielding my stomach. "Do you know why I don't have a boyfriend, Minamino?"

If the question surprised him, he hid it well. He knew the question was rhetorical, that I didn't expect an answer. I humored him anyway. "After the accident, it took a while for me to go back to school. I didn't want to talk to anyone, didn't want their pity. The kids were kind at first, tried to be my friend or at least pretended to. But I kept to myself and by the time I was ready, everyone had moved on without me. Sure, they were nice to my face but I heard the rumors, the giggles when we changed for gym class. Every boy I liked just wanted to see my scars, props from being with the 'demon girl'."

I shook my head, fist tightening in my shirt. "Men are the same way. Some are disgusted but most just want to touch them, like I'm a sideshow freak." Ice tickled my gut and I laughed, shaking my head. "You know what, let's just eat. Everything smells–"

Pressure at my hand and I stopped, looking back. Long fingers curled around my wrist, gentle and firm, lips pressed to my palm. His grip remained loose, allowing me to break free whenever I wanted but I couldn't bring myself to move, to look away. Eyes closed, mouth massaging the scar I kept hidden, the remnants of a knife's bite–

Mom's last day at home.

"Such men are unworthy of you." His breath on the mark made me shiver, twin emeralds opening to slivers. "If they are so small-minded to find fault with this," He touched the scar again, a hint of wetness tickling my skin. "They are not worthy of your time, much less your tears."

Only then did I feel the tears on my cheek, anger fading to something tender, something more. "Is that from a book?"

"No, it is the truth." He smiled and rose, pulling me to see his handiwork. "Now, let us eat before it gets cold."

September 2020 OTP Drabbles

Prompt 5 – Kissing