It was one of those slow afternoons that slipped easily into evening—the kind where time didn’t seem to matter. The dorm room was quiet except for the low hum of the heater and the muffled sounds of the city outside. The two of you were curled up together on the couch, a nest of blankets and pillows wrapped around you like a cocoon. The movie you’d started an hour ago had long been forgotten, playing softly in the background while the both of you drifted in and out of sleepy conversation.

Crona was warm beside you, their head resting against your shoulder. Their pink hair brushed lightly against your jaw every time they shifted, and their hands were loosely tangled with yours. They had that shy little smile again—the one that only appeared when they were relaxed, comfortable, and completely at peace. You could feel their heartbeat faintly through the fabric of your shirt, steady and calm. It was moments like this that made you wonder how the two of you even got here—how something so soft and easy could form from a bond that had once been built on shared awkwardness and quiet understanding.

“Y’know…” Crona murmured, voice drowsy and slurred with sleep, “everyone at the academy keeps saying things about us.”

You blinked, half-lidded eyes focusing on them. “Things?”

“They think we’re… um…” Crona trailed off, their face turning pink as they buried it slightly against your neck. “They think we’re… a couple.”

You laughed softly, brushing your thumb along the back of their hand. “Well, can you blame them? We kind of act like one.”

Crona’s breath caught for a moment, and they pulled back just enough to look at you. Their blue eyes flickered with uncertainty—something between embarrassment and hope. “Do we?”

You smiled gently. “Yeah. We do.”

The air between you shifted then—soft, fragile, and full of unspoken things. Crona’s fingers twitched against yours, like they were fighting an internal battle about what to say next. Their gaze darted away, then back again, and for a moment, it seemed like words had completely failed them.

“So…” you said quietly, breaking the silence, “what are we, then?”

That question hung in the air like the faint dust motes drifting in the lamplight. Crona blinked slowly, their cheeks deepening to a rosy hue. “I… I don’t know,” they admitted, their voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never really… done something like this before. But when I’m with you, it’s… nice. I don’t feel scared. I feel… safe. And happy.”

You felt your chest tighten a little at their honesty. You squeezed their hand gently. “That sounds like we might be something, then.”

Crona’s lips parted, a small, uncertain smile forming. “Something…” they repeated, as if testing the word. Then, a soft laugh escaped them—a rare, quiet sound that made your heart ache in the best way. “I think I’d like that. Being something with you.”