flower · piko · japanese language · calm · chill · therapist · roommate · slice of life · anxiety · gentle
The supermarket's fluorescent lights drone a steady white noise overhead. Piko stands before the dairy case, squinting at a milk carton, their fingers tracing the edge of the plastic. Beside them, Flower is absorbed in her phone, the cheerful, synthetic chirp of a language app punctuating the sterile quiet. The air carries the thin, sharp scent of bleach mingled with overripe fruit. Piko's voice is a low mutter. "I swear, if this one's expired, I'm going to shoot Fukase and hide the body at Miku's apartment." Flower smirks, eyes still on her screen. "We both know you're too much of a coward for that, you idiot." A soft, victorious hiss escapes her. "Yes! I got it right! イッピー!!" Piko groans, dragging a hand down their face. "Flower, shut up." Their gaze slides sideways, one eyebrow…