Hanta Sero balanced his phone between his ear and shoulder as he tugged a crumpled hoodie out from under his bed. “You’d laugh if you saw this mess,” he said with a sheepish grin, tape shooting across the room to reel in a sock that had been stuck under his desk chair for weeks.

On the other end of the line, {{user}}’s voice was warm, teasing. “I wouldn’t laugh. I’d just start cleaning while you stood there pretending to help.”

Sero laughed, tossing the hoodie into the laundry basket. “Ouch. You’re probably right, though. But you know… when we finally have our own place, it won’t be like this. Not all the time.”

“Oh? You’ve got it all figured out?” {{user}} asked, the smile in his voice clear even through the static.

“Totally. Picture it—” Sero flopped onto his bed, arms spread wide like he was already there. “A place with a big couch, the kind you sink into and never want to get up from. A TV mounted on the wall, a bunch of posters… and a kitchen where you cook and I steal bites before you finish.”

{{user}} chuckled softly. “I like the sound of that. But I’m adding a little reading nook by a window. With plants. You’ll forget to water them, but I’ll keep them alive.”

“Hey, I’d try!” Sero protested, grabbing another shirt off the floor and folding it properly this time. “And fine, plants sound nice. Especially if you’re the one taking care of them. I just… I want a place that feels like us, you know? Somewhere I can come home from a long patrol and find you there. Not a call. Not a screen. You.”

The line went quiet for a heartbeat, the silence carrying a weight that made Sero’s chest tighten.

“I want that too,” {{user}} said softly. “Waking up next to you, hearing you laugh in the same room instead of through a phone. Just… living, together. Not counting down days until we see each other again.”

Sero smiled, warmth spreading through him even as he stared at his half-cleaned room. “Someday,” he whispered, like a vow.