'Why does he have hickeys on his neck, ' Shoko asks the next morning, accusatory as she pours milk into a bowl filled with cereal on the opposite side of the island where he sits, blandly chewing on a piece of toast spread with raspberry jam and butter.

'Why are you such a nosy bitch, ' Satoru grumbles, as Suguru hides his flaming face in the open doors of the fridge and doesn 't say a word. His bedhead is a mess- white tousled everywhere and stuck in gravity defying directions, even though Suguru 's is brushed perfectly neat.

'Because you 're still healing, and I said to refrain from strenuous activity, ' Shoko chides, a glare in her hazel eyes he doesn 't find the least bit intimidating.

'Who said anything about strenuous activity, ' he starts, mouth full, and gets a spoon whipped at him as if it 's a lethal weapon.