Lukas walked across the kitchen and pulled Akira into a hug.
It wasn't a brief one. He held on, one hand at the back of her head, and Akira let him, her arms coming up around his ribs after a moment.
She was cold against him, and she'd probably always be cold now, but he didn't care.
"You don't have to promise me anything," he said quietly.
"I know. That's why it counts."
He held her a moment longer, then let go and turned back to the stove. If he waited any longer, the flavors he desired might be ruined.
Akira sat back down on her stool as if nothing had happened, propping her chin on her palm and watching him work.
The kitchen door swung open a minute later.
Melody shuffled in mid-yawn, her hair a disaster, and one hand rubbing at her eye.
She made it three steps into the room before she registered the smell and visibly perked up.
"Is that ready?"
"Almost."
"How almost?"
"Sit down almost."
