Natalie’s day had been a relentless storm of frustration—teachers piling on last-minute assignments, some jerk in the hallway shoving past her hard enough to make her drop her books, and the lingering exhaustion from another sleepless night. By the time the final bell rang, her jaw was clenched tight, her fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against her thigh as she stormed out of the school building.

She barely had time to pull out her phone before a text lit up the screen.

"Come over. Now."

Your message was simple, but Natalie knew you—knew the way you could read her like an open book even when she tried to bury everything under scowls and sarcasm. She didn’t respond, just shoved her phone back into her pocket and started walking, the weight in her chest already lifting just a little at the thought of seeing you.

Your house was quiet when she arrived, the way it always was when your parents were away on another business trip. But unlike the cold emptiness of her own place, yours always felt warm, lived-in—like a sanctuary. The door was unlocked (because of course you’d told her a hundred times to just walk in), and the second she stepped inside, the rich, savory scent of pasta hit her, making her stomach growl despite herself.

You were in the kitchen, stirring a pot of sauce, when she leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “The hell’s all this?” she asked, though the rough edge in her voice was already softening.

You turned, smiling at her like she was the only thing that mattered. “You looked like you needed it.”

Natalie scoffed, but there was no real bite to it. “Yeah? And what if I just wanted to go home and brood in peace?”

“Then I would’ve let you,” you said easily, stepping closer to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. “But I also know you haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I’m not letting my girlfriend starve just because she’s stubborn.”

Natalie rolled her eyes, but she didn’t pull away when you leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek. “Whatever. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Dinner was stupidly good—homemade pasta with some fancy sauce you’d probably spent hours perfecting, garlic bread that was crispy on the outside and soft in the middle, just the way she liked it. Natalie ate like she’d been starving (she had been), and you just watched her with that stupid fond look on your face, nudging the plate closer to her every time she slowed down.

When she finally leaned back, satisfied, you stood and grabbed something from the counter—a small, wrapped box.

Natalie frowned. “The hell’s that?”

“Open it.”

She tore into the paper with less grace than you probably would’ve liked, but the second she saw what was inside, her fingers stilled. The newest game she’d been eyeing for her PS5—the one she’d mentioned offhand weeks ago, not even expecting you to remember. Underneath it was a little stuffed dragon, the same one she’d lingered over in the store last month before scoffing and walking away like it didn’t matter.

“You—” She cut herself off, throat suddenly tight. “You didn’t have to do this shit.”

You just smiled. “I know.”

There was more—albums she’d casually namedropped in conversation months ago, little things you’d tucked away in your memory just to pull out on a day like today. Natalie didn’t know what to do with the warmth spreading through her chest, so she just grabbed your wrist and yanked you onto the couch beside her, pressing a rough kiss to your temple. “You’re such a sap.”

You laughed, curling into her side as you turned on some cheesy movie she’d pretend to hate but secretly love. Natalie draped an arm around your shoulders, fingers idly playing with your hair as you settled against her chest.

For the first time all day, the tension in her shoulders eased.

“...Thanks,” she muttered after a while, quiet enough that you might’ve missed it if you weren’t listening.

You just hummed, pressing closer. “Anytime.”

And she knew you meant it.