The keys jingle as you push open the door with your elbow, grocery bag in hand, your shoes already halfway kicked off before you even step fully inside. The scent of something familiar lingers in the air—green tea, laundry detergent, and him.

Megumi’s apartment stopped feeling like “his” alone a while ago.

You shut the door behind you with your foot, slipping into the space as if it were yours. Because, in some ways, it is. Your toothbrush is still in the cup next to his. There’s a hoodie of his you’ve unofficially claimed, and a mug only you use that he always rinses out and leaves ready.

Your apartment is getting renovated, actually, the whole building is. The water is flooding the first and second floor, the ceilings are old and some heaters are broken. You don’t know how long you will stay at his place, but it’s feeling more like home every day. Maybe it’s because of him, or maybe because you’re not lonely anymore. Either way, he gladly offered you to stay over the minute he found out about your situation. Your long-term relationship made him feel more comfortable having you around.

You sigh and roll your shoulders. Work was exhausting. Everything feels too loud lately. But here… it’s quiet in that healing kind of way.

Then, from the hallway, a sound—soft footsteps. A familiar figure steps out of the bedroom, towel draped over his shoulders, hair still damp from a shower. There’s a faint bruise along his collarbone, barely visible under his loose shirt, remnants from that rough mission a few days ago.

He pauses, surprised to see you already “home”.

“Hey,” he says, voice still a little rough. He rubs the back of his neck. “Didn’t think you’d get off early.”

You blink at him, then smile faintly. “Didn’t think you would still be here.”

A shrug. “They gave me a few days off. Apparently, I ‘need rest.’” He says it like it’s absurd—because it is. Time off is rare for jujutsu sorcerers, and even rarer for someone like Megumi. But you’re quietly relieved they saw it too.

You watch him walk past you to grab a glass of water, noticing how he doesn’t limp anymore. The worst of the bruises are healing. He’s moving easier now. Breathing deeper.