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6 /YOU CAN BE THE MATCH i will be a fuse
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"Numi?"
A soft whisper stirred me from sleep, the voice so close it sent a ripple of awareness through me. I rolled over, feeling the unmistakable warmth of someone beside me. My heart jolted as my eyes flew open, a startled gasp escaping my lips. There he was-Meliodas, comfortably nestled in the bed next to me, his face mere inches away. This wasn't new. He had snuck into my room every night since I started staying here, making it a habit to either slip in quietly while I slept or, like now, be found already wrapped around me come morning.
I didn't fight him anymore, but I certainly wasn't about to let him get away with it scot-free. With a swift push, I sent him crashing off the bed, the thud of his body hitting the floor satisfying as I scrambled upright, pulse racing.
"Don't scare me like that!"
Meliodas stood up with an infuriatingly easy grace, brushing off the fall as if it were nothing. His cheeky grin stretched wide across his face, his green eyes twinkling with mischief. "Why be scared? It's just me!"
I rolled my eyes, tugging down the hem of the oversized white shirt he'd given me to sleep in, making sure it covered everything properly as my heartbeat slowly began to settle.
"That's the problem. 'It's just you' is exactly the issue." I crossed my arms, glaring at him with all the indignation I could muster. "You're a creep, sneaking into my bed and whispering my name while I'm asleep! Who does that?"
"Only for you." He chuckled, completely unfazed by my irritation, and sauntered over to the dresser, picking up a plate. Turning back to me, he held it up with pride, his grin somehow growing wider. "Chocolate cake, as promised!"
I blinked, my annoyance wavering as my eyes landed on the cake. I'd nearly forgotten his promise from yesterday. My cheeks flushed slightly, warmth creeping up my face as I shuffled over and took the plate from him.
"Thank you," I murmured, my voice softer now, the surprise of his gesture catching me off guard. Settling back down on the edge of the bed, I glanced up at him. "Wait. Did you make this?" I asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
He only shrugged, his grin never faltering, and I couldn't help but narrow my eyes at him playfully.
"Whatever," I said with a laugh. "I'll eat it anyway, even if you did make it."
The moment I took a bite, though, it was clear he hadn't made it. The taste was far too good. My heart swelled with a strange sense of gratitude—I hadn't realized how much it meant to me that he went out of his way to get it. Chocolate cake wasn't just a sweet treat, it was one of my weaknesses, though I wasn't about to let him know that. I kept my expression neutral, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much I was enjoying it.
