It was one of those rare afternoons where neither of you had any obligations—no training sessions, no missions, not even Maka nagging Black☆Star into studying. The two of you had collapsed onto your bed, tangled together beneath a blanket, both of you too lazy to move and too comfortable to care. The room was filled with nothing but the hum of the ceiling fan and the soft sound of your breaths.

Black☆Star had his arm thrown lazily over your waist, his head resting half on the pillow and half on your shoulder. Every once in a while, he mumbled something—half brag, half nonsense—that made you chuckle. “Y’know, everyone probably thinks I’m the best cuddler ever. Which is true. I am the best. You’re lucky to have me.” His voice was rough from drowsiness, a little softer than usual.

You gave him a playful nudge. “Pretty sure you’re the only one who thinks that.”

He shifted closer, pressing his forehead against yours, his grin curling into something gentler. “Then they’re all wrong. No one else gets to know how good this feels but you.” The words lingered between you, heavier than his usual confident banter, but not uncomfortable.

Minutes slipped by like that—both of you whispering half-coherent thoughts, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along his arm while his thumb brushed lazily against your side. The air was warm, safe, like neither of you needed to be anywhere else.

Then, quietly, almost as though it slipped out without permission, you murmured, “Black☆Star… what are we?”

He blinked at you, at first caught off guard. For once, he didn’t shoot back with a loud declaration. Instead, he propped himself up slightly, his eyes—usually so loud and proud—searching yours with rare vulnerability. “What are we?” he echoed, then smirked in that way only he could. “We’re… us. The strongest duo. The closest there is. So close everyone’s jealous.” He hesitated, leaning back in, voice dropping to a near whisper. “But… if you wanted us to be something more… I wouldn’t hate it.”