Chapter 5: Breakfast With a Vampire (Why Is He in an Apron?!)
When I opened my bedroom door that morning, I expected… well, normal things.Maybe the sound of the old fridge humming. Maybe the faint smell of instant ramen because that's all I've eaten for the past month.
What I didn't expect was this:
Riku Kurosawa—Japan's most famous idol, runaway superstar, and part-time vampire menace—standing in my tiny kitchen, wearing a pink apron covered in strawberries.
Yes. Strawberries.
And, naturally, he made it look like a designer piece straight off a Paris runway. His silver hair caught the early sunlight like strands of moonlight, his long legs peeking from the hem of a black T-shirt and casual joggers that probably cost more than my entire apartment lease.
He even had his hair tied loosely in the back. A messy, soft ponytail. The kind you only see in fanart.
And worst of all—he was humming. Humming.
"…What the hell," I muttered under my breath, frozen in the doorway like I'd just walked into the wrong anime.
Riku glanced over his shoulder, eyes glinting a faint crimson. Then—that smile.That smile that made entire stadiums scream. That smile that launched a thousand fan edits.
"Morning, boyfriend," he said, casual as ever.
I died inside. Just… flatlined.
"Don't. Ever. Call me that. Again."
"Oh?" He turned back to the stove like this was totally normal. "But the internet seems to love it."
I squinted. "…What are you talking about?"
He lifted his phone from the counter and waved it without looking away from the pan. "#RikuAndHaruto is trending."
My heart stopped. "It's… WHAT?!"
"Here, look." He walked over and shoved the phone in my face. And there it was. The disaster. My entire social media feed was now a crime scene:
Fan edits of me and Riku holding hands on the balcony.
Threads like "Who is Haruto?! Everything we know about Riku's mystery boyfriend."
People photoshopping wedding pictures.
Someone even made a manga-style illustration of me feeding Riku a bento.I don't even know how they drew it so fast.
"I'm going to die," I whispered. "I'm going to die before I hit twenty."
"Relax," Riku said, still scrolling through his own tag like a psychopath. "Breakfast will calm you down."
"…Breakfast?" I repeated weakly.
"Yes." He returned to the stove, flipping something in the pan with a grace that made me question reality. "Omelets, rice, miso soup. Simple."
"You…" My brain stalled. "You can cook?"
"Of course." He looked over his shoulder, giving me a look like I'd just asked if he knew how to breathe. "Did you think I live on takeout and blood bags?"
"…Yes."
"Well, you're wrong. I like cooking. It's… relaxing."
Relaxing.Relaxing, he says.The same guy who nearly sank his fangs into my neck two nights ago. Now he's over here, making omelets like some perfect husband from a shoujo manga.
He plated the food and set it in front of me with a little flourish. The omelet was golden and perfect, with ketchup on top forming neat, clean letters:
"Good Morning, Haruto ♥"
I stared. I blinked. I stared some more. "…Why is there a heart?"
"Because you're my fake boyfriend now," he said sweetly, pulling out a chair across from me. "Gotta make it look convincing, right?"
"Convincing for WHO?!" I practically yelled. "The paparazzi aren't hiding under the fridge!"
"You never know," he said calmly, sipping miso soup like a prince in exile. His crimson eyes flicked toward the window.
I froze. "…Wait. Are they actually—"
"Nope." He smirked. "But that look on your face? Priceless."
I threw my spoon at him.
"Eat before it gets cold," he said, chuckling softly. And wow—his laugh. It wasn't fair. It was the kind of laugh that made my stomach twist and my brain short-circuit.
Grumbling, I took a bite of the omelet, fully prepared to hate it out of sheer spite.
And...and it was delicious.
Perfectly seasoned, fluffy, and warm in a way that made my soul ache. The kind of taste you can't buy at any convenience store.
"…Why is this so good?" I muttered.
He rested his chin on his hand, watching me with that insufferable smirk. "Glad you like it. Feeding someone is… intimate, you know."
"STOP MAKING IT WEIRD!" I slammed my chopsticks down.
But my ears were burning. And my heart was doing that stupid thump-thump thing.No. Nope. Absolutely not.
"By the way," Riku said casually, like he wasn't ruining my life, "we need to go shopping later."
"Shopping?"
"Yes. Groceries. Clothes. And blackout curtains."
"…Blackout curtains?"
He smiled, slow and sharp. "Unless you want your vampire roommate bursting into flames the next time you open a window?"
"…Fair point."
And that's how I ended up in the weirdest situation of my life:Eating a romantic breakfast made by a vampire idol in a pink strawberry apron...while trending on social media as his fake boyfriend.
Dear diary:Send help.
TO BE CONTINUED…