Haruka woke up clinging to the edge of her own bed. Again.
"Momo…" she mumbled, voice still raspy from sleep.
The giant fluffball was sprawled across the mattress like a snowstorm with legs, snoring softly, head on her pillow. She was one more night away from registering him as a roommate.
"I paid rent for this bed, you know…" she grumbled, rolling off the edge with the grace of a sleepy sea otter. Her hair stuck up in all directions, and one of her socks was mysteriously missing. Again. "I definitely need a bigger bed... or a smaller Momo."
She gave up on salvaging her dignity and let herself flop onto the carpet for a second, blinking up at the ceiling in quiet defeat. A paw flopped over the edge of the bed and landed squarely on her stomach. She didn't even have the energy to move it.
"Somebody's living their best life," she muttered, flicking the paw away.
Eventually, she rolled herself upright and shuffled toward her desk, dragging her feet in oversized bunny slippers. Her journal waited—open, dramatic, and begging for chaos. A pen sat nearby like it, too, had seen things.
She plopped down into her chair with a sleepy groan and flipped to a fresh page, writing at the top in her loopy, sparkly ink:
Definitely Not Thinking About Hoodie Guy
Then she paused. Tapped her pen against her cheek. Her lips puffed in a pout.
"He's not even that interesting," she muttered aloud, as if trying to convince her furniture. "He's just a guy in a hoodie. A rude guy in a hoodie."
The pen moved again:
He talks like sarcasm is a second language. Maybe a first language.
His eyes look like they've seen the end of the world and found it mildly annoying.
I bet he names his plants something like 'Disappointment' or 'Don't Die.'
She blinked at her own words, lips twitching.
"Okay, that was kind of funny," she admitted under her breath, cheeks warming just slightly.
But then came the spiral.
And yet... somehow... Ryotakkun would never glare at me like I insulted his ancestors.
Ryotakkun's voice is gentle. Hoodie Guy sounds like someone who bites into lemons for fun.
Ryotakkun would say 'good morning' with sparkles. Hoodie Guy would grunt and call the morning 'overrated.'
She groaned dramatically and smacked her forehead onto the desk, narrowly missing the pen. Her cheek smushed against the paper as she whined into the wood.
"Why am I comparing them?! They're not even in the same genre!"
Momo stirred, gave a lazy stretch, and then trotted over like he'd been summoned by chaos. He paused for a second, tail wagging proudly, and then dropped something at her feet like it was a priceless treasure.
Haruka peeled her face off the desk and looked down.
It was… a candy wrapper.
She stared. Blinked. Leaned closer.
The exact candy wrapper Hoodie Guy had dropped last night.
Her soul left her body.
"Momo!" she squeaked, scrambling to pick it up like it was radioactive. "No, no, no—we are not keeping weird mysterious men's trash as souvenirs!"
Momo tilted his head, tongue lolling out happily, tail wagging like he'd just handed her a love letter.
Haruka collapsed onto the floor in disbelief, clutching the wrapper between two fingers like it might bite her.
"Why are you like this?" she whispered to the ceiling. "Do dogs even have crushes? Is this how it starts?"
She rolled over and fumbled for her phone. With a few frantic taps, she hit the video call button. Yuki answered halfway through a yawn, wearing sunglasses indoors and sipping coffee from a giant mug that said "Photographers Do It In RAW."
"Morning, Haru," Yuki said, voice still lazy. "You look… uh, puffy."
Haruka held up the candy wrapper like it was cursed. "My dog's in love with a guy ."
Yuki blinked, adjusting her sunglasses. "Wait. That hoodie guy?"
"Yes! And I'm not thinking about him at all, okay? I just… thought you'd like to know that Momo's clearly moved on from me.
Yuki snorted and almost choked on her coffee. "So you're saying your dog has better taste than you?"
Haruka flailed one arm, still lying on the floor. "He is not my type! He's rude, closed-off, and his hoodie looked like it hadn't been washed since the Dark Ages!"
"And yet here you are, journaling about him first thing in the morning."
"I was journaling to insult him!" Haruka huffed. "And to remind myself that Ryotakkun is far superior. Ryotakkun has never glared at me in public. Ryotakkun wouldn't get scared by a cute fluffy creature!"
"Uh-huh," Yuki replied, clearly entertained. "Ryotakkun also doesn't exist in real life."
Haruka gasped, hand dramatically over her heart. "Take it back!"
Yuki grinned, raising her mug. "Fine, fine. I still think your dog's onto something."
"I'm baking cookies," Haruka announced with a flair, as if declaring war. "Real, warm, chocolatey ones. That'll get my brain back on track."
"Well that's quite random. Call me if you get buried in flour again."
"I won't!" Haruka declared, pushing herself off the floor like a soldier preparing for battle.
She marched to the kitchen, head held high, the wrapper tucked away where she could pretend it didn't exist. Momo, naturally, followed her like a furry shadow, watching as she lined up ingredients on the counter.
"Don't you dare," she warned, pointing a flour-coated spoon at him. "No licking the sugar this time."
Momo blinked at her innocently.
But fate—or flour—had other plans.
Fifteen minutes later…
White. Everything was white. Including Haruka's hair. And nose. And eyelashes.
Momo sneezed once. Twice. Then, in a grand finale, sent a puff of sugar flying into the air like confetti.
Haruka stood in the middle of the kitchen, covered in powder, a mixing bowl in one hand and a spatula in the other. Her cheeks were pink, her apron was crooked, and her bangs were sticking out like she'd just gone to war with a bakery and lost.
"I give up," she mumbled, staring blankly at the mess. She looked like a sugar-dusted mochi, freshly rolled in embarrassment.
Momo wagged his tail happily and curled up beside the candy wrapper like it was the love of his life.
Her phone buzzed on the counter. Haruka, still powdered like a pastry, reached for it and saw a message from Yuki:
Yuki: So, Hoodie Guy's fault you're covered in flour now?
Haruka rolled her eyes and muttered, "Stop. You're making it worse."
But even as she typed a response, even as she scolded herself for spiraling, her gaze flicked toward the corner of the kitchen where Momo lay protectively next to the wrapper.
She huffed and sank into a chair, burying her face in her floury hands.
"He's not even that cute," she mumbled.
Momo thumped his tail against the floor, completely unconvinced.