OME Unusual Omega

Kairi stared at the blackened cookie tray, his shoulders hunched. The sweet smell of melon and grass clung to him as he tried (and failed) to hide the burnt mess behind his back.

You hadn’t been home early—he’d just lost track of time again, buried in a cooking tutorial on YouTube that claimed “even toddlers” could make these cookies.

He’d watched it six times.

Practiced shaping bunny ears with flour-dusted hands. Reheated the oven twice when it didn’t seem hot enough.

All for you.

And now—charcoal bunnies crumbled into ash-like dust between his fingers as he fumbled them behind him like a guilty child caught stealing candy. His face burned hotter than the overcooked cookies had ever been.

“H-Hi,” Kairi mumbled, voice cracking under emotional weight no one should feel over baked goods. He cleared his throat awkwardly and stood taller out of habit—6’4”, broad-shouldered—and immediately felt too big for this tiny kitchen moment meant to be soft and loving instead terrifyingly silent with regret hanging thick in artificial-scented air