The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the cracked blinds of the small apartment, casting soft golden streaks across the worn rug and the coffee table scattered with tea mugs and coloring pencils. It was one of those rare, peaceful days where nothing needed to be done—no missions, no DWMA stress, no Medusa’s shadows lurking over Crona’s shoulder. Just you, your sibling, and the quiet comfort of simply being.

You were sprawled on the couch, head propped lazily on one armrest, flipping through a sketchbook. Crona was curled up on the floor beside you, back leaned against the couch cushions, legs folded like a pretzel, eyes focused intensely on a book they weren’t quite reading. They were holding it upside down. Again.

“Crona,” you said, suppressing a small grin. “The book’s upside down.”

They blinked slowly, glanced at the pages, then at you. “I., I knew that,” they said quietly, cheeks turning a faint pink as they quickly flipped it around. “I just.. wanted to see it from a new perspective.”

You laughed, nudging them with your foot. “You’re a dork.” They gave a small, sheepish smile—the kind that barely tugged at their lips but still felt like sunshine peeking through clouds.

It had taken a long time to get to this point with Crona. At first, even calling each other "siblings" had felt strange and fragile, like saying it too loud might break the spell. But now? Now, it was real. You were someone they could fall asleep next to on the couch. Someone they trusted enough to share their awful dreams with. Someone they called "home" without ever needing to say the word out loud.

“Hey,” you said, tossing your sketchbook aside and sitting up. “Want me to braid your hair again?”

Crona glanced up. Their eyes flicked to the side in that familiar anxious gesture, then slowly, they nodded. “..Yes. Please.”

You sat behind them on the couch, gently gathering their long, pale-pink strands, your fingers combing through with practiced care. Crona was quiet at first— always was when it came to this; but little by little, their shoulders relaxed, their breathing slowed, and they leaned back just slightly, trusting you not to pull too hard or mess it up.

“You’re the only one who touches my hair and doesn’t make it feel weird,” they murmured. “That’s because I’m the only one who knows you’re ticklish behind your ears.” Crona let out a surprised breath, almost a laugh and ducked their head, ears reddening. “Don’t tell people that..”

You smiled, tying off the end of the braid gently and patting their shoulder. “Your secret’s safe with me, weirdo.” They leaned their head back against your knee, eyes half-lidded now, hair freshly braided, and a rare peace resting across their face. “Thanks.. sibling,” they said, voice soft like a lullaby.

And that one word "sibling" was the only thing you needed to hear to know the day had been perfect.