“No. You try first,” Ody said, handing him the fork.
But Mano didn’t make a move. So Ody cut a piece of crepe and lifted it toward him. “Here.”
“What?” Mano asked, blinking at him.
Ody motioned for him to take the bite. Hesitantly, Mano leaned in and took the piece from Ody’s fork.
“Wait.” Ody set the fork down and grabbed the spoon instead. He scooped up a generous amount of ice cream and held it out. “Quick, before it melts.”
Mano leaned forward again and took the bite. As he did, Ody’s eyes lingered on his full lips. “Good?” he asked.
Mano nodded.
He cut another bite and held it out to him.
“Aren’t you gonna eat?” Mano asked.
“Later.”
“It’ll get cold.”
“I don’t mind. I like feeding you,” Ody said casually.
Mano averted his gaze, suddenly shy. He ate the second bite slowly before finally looking back at him.
Ody smiled and brushed a hand through Mano’s hair. “Here, ice cream too.” He brought the spoon toward his lips.
When Mano’s crepe was gone, Ody grabbed his own plate.
He took a bite, and Mano watched his expression carefully. “Isn’t it cold now?” he asked.
“A little, but I don’t mind,” Ody replied, still chewing.
Mano didn’t look away. “You’re so selfless…”
Ody paused mid-chew and met Mano’s gaze.
“You always put yourself second for others,” he added.
Ody swallowed, then spoke. “I don’t do it for everyone. Only for the people I lo—” He cut himself off, his eyes widening.
Mano’s breath caught.
“...Only for the people I care about,” Ody corrected quickly, watching Mano’s stunned reaction.
“I-I’m gonna get some water…” Mano mumbled, shooting up from the couch.
Ody stared at the empty space where Mano had been. He rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled slowly.
He finished his crepe in silence, then gathered the plates and carried them to the sink. He grabbed a sponge and squirted some dish soap onto it.
“You don’t have to wash them,” Mano said, stepping up beside him.
“I’m a guest. It wouldn’t be right to leave you with dirty dishes,” Ody replied, scrubbing the first plate, his eyes still on the sink.
Mano, however, kept watching him. “I’m going for a shower,” he muttered, walking past him toward the bathroom.
He stripped off his clothes and stepped under the showerhead, turning on the water. Warm droplets cascaded down, soaking his black hair. Water traced the contours of his muscles, running down his chest and along the lines of his abs. He reached for the shampoo, flipped the cap open, and poureda small amount into his palm. Massaging it into his scalp, he worked up a thick lather. With his eyes closed, he let the water rinse the foam away, standing still beneath the steady stream.
