𝐁𝐈𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐃。 .˚₊ˊ˗
⇢ brocon x fem! oc x ohshc
⇢ mature themes further in
"i really, really hate my brothers. but in my defense, they really, really hate me too. well! that makes fourteen of us!"
natsu asahina's brothers are shit bags in human form...
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[ A/N: WOO EARLY UPDATE YEAH
the next few chapters will describe the next two weeks after the night of the argument, like little snippets of each day. some of the scenes are too small to be individual chapters, so they'll be put together in one big chapter, kind of like a catalog.
enjoy the chapter ]
WEEK 1, DAY 2 (MORNING AFTER)
Natsu still refused to leave her room the next morning.
s̸h̸e̶'̴s̵ ̵r̵o̴t̸t̶i̶n̶g̶ ̴i̸n̷ ̵t̵h̶e̶r̶e̶
Ema sighed, her brows furrowed, school bookbag slung over her shoulder. As she made her way down the stairs, Ukyo smiled at her. He was in the kitchen, wearing his lime green apron. "Good morning. Now you're here, Ema. Would you mind setting up the table for me?"
"Alright," the brunette murmured dryly, grabbing the utensils from a cabinet to place on the table. Ukyo noticed her change in attitude but said nothing of it, only pursing his lips as he stayed silent.
After about fifteen minutes, he turned around to face Ema, who just finished setting up the table. She picked up her bookbag up again and headed towards the front door. "Wait- where are you going, Ema?
The brunette looked at him as if the answer was the simplest thing in the world. "Er, to the train station. So I can go to school?"
Ukyo looked back at her as if she'd grown another head. "Well, aren't you going to eat and ride the train with Yusuke and Fuuto?"
"No." Ema paused, realizing how rude her tone must've been. She quickly corrected herself. "No... thank you. I feel like riding by myself today. Ukyo-nii does not have to worry about me. I can pick up a croissant or two from the bakery. Thank you for worrying, though."
"No, I think it'd be better if you ate here with us instead," Ukyo's smile drops from the acidity in her voice. A frown replaces the previous smile he wore. It disappears just as quick as it appeared. He'd never felt such coldness and distance from Ema, never in her time at the household. It wasn't pleasant. Clearing his throat, Ukyo shows her a plate of a mouth-watering omelette with ketchup. It was still hot, steam wafting off of it. "I made omurice today."
"That's alright," Ema gives him a small, smile, "I'm not in the mood for that this morning. Thank you for the offer."
