Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
The morning light pierced through the blinds like sharp daggers, painfully illuminating the room. As you slowly regained consciousness, you felt as though you had been hit by a truck. Your head throbbed with the intensity of a thousand drums, and your mouth was as dry as a desert. It took you a few moments to remember what had happened the night before, and when you did, you groaned in agony.
Suddenly, a familiar scent filled your nostrils, one that made your stomach grumble in response. The unmistakeable aroma of pancakes. Despite your miserable state, you attempted to force yourself out of bed, the sheets clinging to you like a second skin. Forcing yourself to sit up, you felt your head throb in protest, as if it was telling you to lie back down and forget about the world. But the tantalising aroma of pancakes was too much to resist, and you dragged yourself out of bed, your limbs feeling like lead weights. Your reflection in the mirror made you wince, the dark circles under your eyes and your hair askew like a bird's nest.
As you stumbled down the stairs, your bare feet cold against the hardwood floor, you saw Ranpo in the kitchen, flipping pancakes on the stove. His back was to you, and he didn't seem to notice your arrival.
"Jeez, you look like hell." He said, looking over his shoulder at you once he sensed your presence.
You rubbed your bleary eyes, suddenly feeling self-conscious around him, despite the fact that he was right. You did look like hell, and you felt like hell, too. "Thanks, Ranpo," you muttered sarcastically, shuffling towards him. "You look like you've had a good night's sleep."
Ranpo chuckled, the sound rich and mellifluous. "I did, actually. Unlike someone I know."
You groaned in response, plopping yourself down on a nearby stool. As you watched him work, the smell of warm syrup and buttery pancakes wafted in the air, making your mouth water. You suddenly realised how famished you were and reached out for a pancake, only to be slapped away by Ranpo's spatula.
"Ah ah ah," he chided playfully. "Not until you've had some water."
With a sigh, you grabbed the glass of water he offered you and took a sip, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat. As you sipped, Ranpo continued to cook, his movements fluid and precise.
Finally, he slid a plate of pancakes in front of you, topped with a generous dollop of whipped cream and a sprinkle of chocolate chips. You took a tentative bite, savouring the fluffy texture and the sweet taste.
"Thank you," you said, looking up at him gratefully, before a sudden realisation dawned on you, which made you eye him speculatively. "Hold on a second...you're being awfully nice to me this morning. Did you hit your head or something?"
