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“Do you want yours seasoned?” Yuma mutters as he stirs the eggs in the pan.
Harua gets on his tiptoes to peek over his shoulder. “Hmm… unseasoned,” he decides.
Yuma gags. “Ugh, you’re repulsive.”
Harua shoves his shoulder and flops back into his seat. “If we’re judging each other’s preferences, then let’s talk about that guy you brought over last night.”
Yuma chuckles, voice deep and syrupy with the morning’s heaviness. “Jealous, bunny?”
OR, roommate: check. chemistry: unchecked. harua's life is practically over. (and, no, he isn't being dramatic.)
Bookmarked by occasi_ionalreader
16 Nov 2025
