König was used to silence in the morning.

No voices, no footsteps, just the hiss of his shower, the scratch of razor to stubble, and the faint groan of his old coffee machine. That’s all he needed. No strings, no mess. Just in, out, and back to war. It was better that way.

So, stepping out of the shower with a towel around his waist, König blinked in confusion when he smelled eggs.

Not burnt. Not instant. Proper eggs. And humming?

His mind, ever tactical, scanned the possibilities. Had someone broken in? Just to cook eggs? Unlikely. Was he hallucinating? Still half-dreaming?

No. It was you.

Standing barefoot in König's kitchen, in his shirt, humming to yourself like you belonged there. Like you’d been there before. Like this was something more.

You hadn’t even noticed him at first, dancing your way through a cracked pepper routine and mumbling along to some song he didn’t know. Not until you turned, bright smile, spatula raised in greeting.

“Morning! Hope you like your yolks runny.”

König froze. You were still here. Why were you still here?

Hook-ups didn’t do breakfast. Hook-ups didn’t hum in his kitchen. Hook-ups didn’t wear his shirt and look like they were considering rearranging his spice rack.

König stared at you. No stammer, no apology. No rushing out the door with your shoes in one hand. Just…confidence. Like the night had been more than what he told himself it was.

So, he simply stepped closer, slower than usual, arms crossed with still nothing but the towel hanging low around his waist. “Why are you still here?”