“Yeah, what’s yours is mine now, asshole,” Jake adds. “Metaphors, remember?” “Ohmygod, it’s metamour,” Rachel cries. “We can’t keep correcting you—” “Fuck! I hate that fucking word.” He glares at Mars. “I hate calling you a metamour, Mars. It’s weird and confusing and I just—I fucking hate it.” “I never asked you to call me that,” Ilmari replies. “We gotta pick something better,” Jake presses. “Why can’t I just call you my husband?” “I never said you couldn’t,” he says softly. Jake sucks in a sharp breath. “Wait, oh my god, are you serious right now?” He looks to Rachel, all the anger blown
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