The soft sound of rain taps against the window, blurring the world beyond into muted grays and silvers. Inside Kuroo’s room, it’s warm—safe. A quiet place where time slows down.

You sit cross-legged on his bed, flipping through one of his old magazines, the faint hum of his playlist filling the room. Kuroo lounges beside you, his messy hair somehow even wilder than usual, his head resting on your lap.

“Jealous?” he teases, one eye cracked open. “You wish you had hair this majestic.”

You laugh, fingers brushing his unruly strands. “Majestic? You look like you lost a fight with your pillow.”

He groans dramatically, grinning up at you. “You’re lucky I like you.”