Every night Ruslan tried to be careful not to move if possible, and even in the room tried not to make sounds unless absolutely necessary.
Rather than the greed to become close with Sarka, he felt he didn’t want to make things harder for Sarka who, despite such a sensitive personality, had accepted Ruslan as a roommate.
Sometimes when he heard sounds of Sarka tossing and turning, he wondered if it would be better for him to just sleep in the living room again, but still, it was a door Sarka had opened with difficulty.
Ruslan tried to be helpful to Sarka’s life within the bounds of not getting on Sarka’s nerves.
At least when Ruslan kept bringing breakfast, Sarka seemed to begin adapting to the cycle of eating breakfast to some degree.
The number of times he skipped breakfast decreased, and the inconsistent amount he ate also gradually became more regular.
Ruslan, who tried not to look at Sarka and quietly observed only the emptying plates, one day carefully asked after much deliberation.
“Between milk and orange juice, which do you like?”
Sarka, who had become accustomed to the quiet meals, paused and raised his gaze to look at Ruslan.
Ruslan watched for cues and carefully added.
“I don’t know what you like……. Is coffee better perhaps?”
These days Ruslan was trying to figure out Sarka’s eating habits to arrange the breakfast menu.
With food, what Sarka touched well and what he didn’t touch at all began to be faintly distinguished, but since drinks always emptied with a similar feeling, Ruslan wondered every morning which to bring.
He could see Sarka’s gaze lowering to the cup he was unconsciously holding. It was a movement like checking what he had been drinking.
Sarka, who had hesitated briefly, frowned and replied shortly.
“……Not particularly. Either way doesn’t matter.”
It was a dry reply. Ruslan silently nodded.
Sarka’s preferences weren’t very distinct even with food. Rather than taste, it was closer to a feeling of just picking what was easy to eat. It seemed he had no particular preference for drinks either.
Sarka generally ate what was given, and never commented on or complained about the menu Ruslan brought.
Sometimes it gave the impression that rather than wanting to eat breakfast particularly, he was trying to obligatorily increase the amount he ate to replenish the stamina that had dropped during the punishment period.
He’s really not interested in eating.
One day.
Sarka, who had casually picked up one of the coffee cups Ruslan had brought, suddenly flinched.
Ruslan, who had paused at Sarka’s reaction staring intently down at the coffee cup, soon grasped the situation and hurriedly pushed over the other cup in shock.
“Oh, sorry! That’s mine. I like putting butter in my coffee……. This one doesn’t have it. Drink this.”
The drink of butter melted in hot coffee was a traditional recipe in the cold mountainous region of Ruslan’s homeland that maintained body temperature and raised calories, but Imperial people found it unfamiliar. They seemed to think the visual of butter fat floating on the coffee was somewhat disgusting.
Though it was hometown food that appealed to Ruslan’s taste whenever the weather got cold, it didn’t seem to be Sarka’s preference so he’d only put it in one cup, but it seemed he’d picked up that cup.
Sarka hesitated, then put down the coffee cup with butter and received the cup Ruslan held out.
It looks like this, but when you eat it, it’s savory and delicious. Imperial people almost think you accidentally dropped butter in the coffee.
While Ruslan sheepishly drank the butter coffee, Sarka silently drank black coffee.
Perhaps because it helped Sarka wake up, it felt like he drank coffee better than other drinks, so Ruslan often brought coffee after that.
One day.
Sarka’s hand reaching to scoop up butter paused, then hesitated slightly before moving aside to scoop up jam.
……Is butter not his preference?
Ruslan watched for cues, then when Sarka didn’t touch the butter until he’d finished eating the bread, picked up the whole dish and poured it into his coffee cup.
When Sarka continued not to touch butter well after that, Ruslan casually guessed that Sarka just disliked butter without much thought.
However, one day, Ruslan paused at seeing Sarka scoop up butter as if nothing.
……I thought he disliked butter?
At the sight of Sarka spreading butter on bread, Ruslan thought with slight puzzlement and drank milk.
Thinking what he craved might differ each time, Ruslan brought both butter and jam together every time after that.
One day. Sarka, who had casually put his knife to the butter, paused and looked at the cup, then changed direction and scooped up jam.
Ruslan, who became curious at that movement, unconsciously looked down at the drink in the cup.
Suddenly, Ruslan’s body froze as he realized a certain pattern.
……On days I bring coffee, he doesn’t touch butter.
His heart suddenly beat rapidly. Ruslan almost looked at Sarka but barely held back and fixed his gaze downward.
Sarka didn’t touch the butter dish until the meal ended.
The next day. Ruslan, who had gone down to the dining hall, experimentally scooped about twice the usual amount of butter into a sauce dish and brought up two cups of coffee.
When Sarka picked up bread, Ruslan scooped up half the butter and put it in his coffee.
While stirring the cup to melt the butter, Ruslan stole glances at the sauce dish with the half-remaining butter and jam side by side, tense for no reason.
Sarka casually picked up his knife and looked at the sauce dish, then began scooping up the half-remaining butter and spreading it on bread.
Wow…….
Ruslan felt his pulse rate suddenly accelerate as if soaring.
It’s real.
When Ruslan unconsciously looked at Sarka, Sarka, feeling the gaze, paused.
“……What.”
“N-nothing.”
Ruslan hurriedly shook his head and lowered his gaze again to continue eating.
Sarka hesitated briefly, but when Ruslan pretended not to notice and broke his bread, he soon bit into his bread again too.
While Sarka ate the buttered bread, Ruslan kept feeling his heart pounding.
Sarka is, more than I thought……how should I say it.
Being considerate of me.
It was a strange feeling.
Suddenly the sounds of Sarka chewing food were heard sensitively, and every time Sarka’s hand moved, it caught his attention.
Ruslan cleared his throat for no reason as his mouth felt ticklish and drank coffee.
Perhaps because of the high-calorie coffee, even his body temperature seemed to rise faster than usual.
Gradually becoming sensitive to Sarka’s movements, Ruslan now began to see Sarka’s eating habits more clearly than before.
Though Sarka still didn’t have very distinct preferences, Ruslan felt he could distinguish the characteristics of foods Sarka unconsciously touched more and those he didn’t.
Sarka generally didn’t like sweet foods much and preferred simple, plain foods. He also didn’t eat well foods with strong seasoning flavors or stimulating foods.
He mainly ate simple biscuits or rye bread with jam or cheese and drinks, and only ate desserts that weren’t sweet. He didn’t touch at all the very sweet chocolate jam Ruslan liked and brought every time.
Now that Sarka’s regular amount was set, he ate exactly only that amount. On days when he had no appetite, there were days he ate two or three pieces less than usual, but he never ate beyond the regular amount.
When the moment came that Ruslan felt ‘he’ll finish now’, Sarka unfailingly put down his hand.
One day, Ruslan, who instinctively noticed Sarka would finish eating soon, began somewhat hurriedly eating up the remaining sausage.
Ruslan, who had been diligently emptying his plate with his head lowered, suddenly paused.
Sarka’s knife spreading jam was gradually slowing down.
Ruslan, who had been hesitating, realized Sarka’s intention after a moment.
……He’s matching……to me.
While Ruslan emptied the food remaining on his plate, Sarka bit into one piece of bread thinly spread with jam little by little, eating very slowly.
When Ruslan delayed drinking his beverage, Sarka also slowly reached out and took a sip of remaining coffee.
Finally when Ruslan cleanly emptied his plate, Sarka silently put down his cup and stood up from his seat.
Ruslan unconsciously stole a glance at Sarka’s back.
As the meals in silence repeated, the two’s meals ended at similar timing.
Though the amount they ate was different and their preferred foods were different, the two succeeded in putting down their forks at almost the same time every time.
Ruslan now began to distinguish which foods quickly disappeared from the dessert plate and which foods remained because both didn’t touch them well.
Days when food remained on the dessert plate decreased, then soon almost disappeared.
The two’s eating habits began to mesh on the plate like gears fitting together.
On days when the three plates emptied cleanly without a single crumb, Ruslan somehow felt good.
During breakfast time, the time Ruslan spent deliberating while choosing food in the dining hall also decreased.
Like watching a precise calculation fit into place, Ruslan would enjoyably watch the process of Sarka’s hand moving to empty the plates.
Sarka now emptied the food one by one in the order Ruslan designed, and removed his hand from the plate at the time Ruslan thought.
One day.
Just as Ruslan expected, the two plates were cleanly emptied, and the last remaining dessert plate was also almost being emptied.
Having finished one tart, Ruslan casually reached toward that side to finish the one remaining cherry.
At the same time, Sarka’s fingertips moving to the same place brushed against Ruslan’s hand above the cherry as if colliding.
“!”
As if burned by fire, Ruslan unconsciously pulled back his fingers as if yanking them away.
In a similar movement, Sarka’s fingers also curled inward.
For a very brief moment not even lasting one breath, the two froze unable to move.
“……”
“……”
Sarka’s white hand floating in midair moved first, flowing to pick up the bread pudding beside the cherry.
As if nothing had happened, Sarka picked up the bread pudding and bit into it.
Only then did Ruslan’s hand also move, picking up one more tart as if he’d intended to do so originally and bit into it.
The meal still continued in silence.
Pudding, tart, and trifle disappeared in turn.
Until the meal ended, no one touched the cherry.
When the last pudding ended, Sarka stood up.
On the plate, one cherry still remained.
Looking down at the cherry left lonely, Ruslan felt his heart pounding thump thump thump.
The place where their fingers had touched strangely burned hot like a burn mark.
