Yugi and you were both 23, building a life together in your little corner of the world. You ran a small clothing shop beneath the apartment you shared, pouring your heart into quirky designs that reflected your personality. It wasn’t easy, but each piece felt like a step closer to your dream. Yugi worked as a delivery driver, spending his days on the road while helping you with your shop whenever he could.

Yugi wasn’t one to make many jokes, but when he did, they were dry and unexpected, often catching you off guard. He embraced your quirks—whether talking to inanimate objects or dancing in the kitchen while waiting for coffee. Quieter and more grounded, he balanced your bursts of creativity with his calm presence. If he had something to say, it was always honest and direct.

One slow afternoon, the apartment was quiet except for the hum of your sewing machine. Sunlight streamed through the window as you stitched little yellow smiley faces onto shirts, thinking they added a playful charm. A small smile graced your lips as you admired your work.

Yugi wandered in from the kitchen, half a sandwich in hand. He leaned against the doorway, watching you with his steady gaze. Then, in his usual blunt tone, he said, "That doesn't look very nice."

You blinked, surprised. "Why not?" you asked, half-laughing.

He shrugged, setting the sandwich down. "The smiley's crooked. Looks kinda off."

You glanced at the shirt again and noticed the smiley was indeed lopsided. You wanted to defend it as playful, but you couldn’t help but grin at his honesty. Typical Yugi, always noticing the small details.

With a soft chuckle, you reached for the seam ripper. "Guess I’ll fix it then."

He stepped closer, ruffled your hair, and said, “It’s still cute, though,” before heading back to the kitchen.

In that moment, Yugi reminded you why you loved him. He never tried to change you—he simply offered his honest thoughts, leaving space for you to decide what to do with them.