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Summary
He reaches for his cooking chopsticks and begins to beat the eggs for their tamagoyaki, his body pushing back into Youichi’s chest to return the warmth of his affection. “Should we do salmon or mackerel for breakfast?” he asks, debating if he can get away with pressing his lips to that round cheek in his peripheral. No, that’s too far. He’s only ever successfully managed once before, and that was celebratory in nature. Oh well, he’s doing it inside his head, and in it, it’s the reason for that sweet smile Youichi’s making at him.
“Salmon. Duh,” he answers. “It’s classic. Can’t go wrong with that.”
They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. It's an adage Miyuki Kazuya believes in and has come to live by, but what no one tells him is what he's supposed to do when the heart he's trying to feed is trapped beneath the bottomless pit Kuramochi Youichi calls his stomach.