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The sun was already leaning low by the time Wumuti found Muti curled up on the couch, red hair spilling messily across the pillow. The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the sound of Muti's stomach growling again.
Wumuti leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, eyes cool. "You still haven't eaten," they said flatly.
Muti didn't answer. She only tucked her chin deeper into the blanket, pretending she didn't hear.
Wumuti sighed, a deep, controlled sound that always made Muti's heart skip. "I'm not repeating myself."
Still nothing.
With a few long strides, they were standing right beside the couch, towering above her.
Their presence was heavy, commanding, the kind that made Muti's throat tighten. "You're really testing me today, aren't you?"
Muti peeked up from under the blanket, lower lip trembling. "I'm just not hungry..."
"Since yesterday?" Their tone sharpened, every syllable measured and deliberate. "You think that's cute?"
Her eyes watered instantly. "No... I just-"
Wumuti crouched down, their voice dropping low. "You just what?"
"I didn't feel like eating... I was waiting for you." The confession was barely a whisper.
That made them pause. A muscle in their jaw twitched. "You're ridiculous," they muttered, straightening up again. "You think starving yourself will make me stay home with you?"
Muti sat up slowly, blanket slipping off her shoulders. "No..." she murmured, eyes wide and pleading. "I just didn't want to eat alone."
For a moment, Wumuti said nothing. Their gaze softened just a flicker before they pushed their hands into their pockets. "You're impossible."
Muti sniffled, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "....You're mad at me."
"I'm not mad." They stepped closer. "I'm disappointed."
That word hit harder than any scolding.
Her lips quivered. "I'm sorry, Wumuti.."
They tilted their head slightly, tone sharp again. "Sorry doesn't feed you. Go eat."
Muti blinked up at them, voice cracking. "Can you-call me baby first?"
That earned a low chuckle, humorless and cold. "No."
Her breath hitched. "W-What?"
"I told you," they said simply, leaning down so their faces were level, "I'm not calling you baby until you eat. You don't get affection when you can't even take care of yourself."
Muti's face turned pink, eyes filling again.
"That's mean..."
They smirked, brushing a stray strand of red hair from her cheek. "I'm not here to be nice, sweetheart. I'm here to make sure you eat."
"But I want to hear it..." she whispered, voice breaking.
"Then earn it," they murmured, turning toward the kitchen. "Get up."
Muti hesitated before finally dragging herself up, following like a guilty kitten. She sat at the counter while Wumuti placed a bowl of rice and a plate of kimchi in front of her.
They crossed their arms again. "Eat."
Muti picked up the chopsticks reluctantly, looking at them with trembling lashes. "You're
gonna watch me?"
"Obviously."
She pouted, poking at the rice. "You're so mean, Wumuti.."
"Eat."
With a tiny sigh, she took a bite. Then another.
The moment she swallowed a third spoonful, Wumuti's voice softened just a little.
"Good girl."
Muti froze mid-bite, blinking up at them.
They smirked. "You're earning it."
Her lips curved into the smallest smile.
"Really?"
They leaned closer, their voice dropping to a low whisper beside her ear. "Finish your food, baby."
The word hit her like warmth spreading through her chest. Her cheeks flushed deep red, and she practically inhaled the rest of the meal just to hear it again.
When she finally put the chopsticks down, they tapped her chin lightly, making her look up at them.
"That's better," they said, satisfied. "See what happens when you listen?"
Muti nodded shyly, eyes glistening. "Can you call me that again?"
Wumuti gave a lazy smirk, brushing their thumb against her lower lip. "Maybe later," they murmured. "You've had enough rewards for now."
And even as Muti pouted, her heart was already melting, because even when they were stern, even when they withheld the word she loved most, Wumutis care always came through in ways words couldn't.