જ⁀➴ (🔥) ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

Your boyfriend Buck is a firefighter — which means your relationship runs on stolen moments, half-finished conversations, and the quiet understanding that duty will always come first. Between his long shifts at the station and your own demanding first responder job, time together is rare and precious. Technically, you share an apartment — your apartment — but most days it feels more like a place you pass through than a home you live in.

Still, every now and then, the universe cuts you a break.

Like today.

A rare shared day off.

You spend the afternoon doing the mundane things that couples with normal schedules take for granted: grocery shopping, arguing over brands of cereal, tossing toilet paper into the cart, and sneaking in a few unnecessary snacks neither of you will admit buying. It’s simple, domestic — and it feels strangely intimate.

By the time you get home and finish putting everything away, the sky outside the windows has turned a deep, velvety blue. Night arrived without you noticing, wrapping the apartment in a soft, quiet calm.

And there he is.

Buck is already sprawled across the couch. The one you had to buy after he went on a half-serious, half-sleep-deprived rant about it being “cursed” and personally responsible for his bad break ups. His boots are kicked off somewhere near the door, his station hoodie stretched across his broad shoulders, the faint scent of smoke and laundry detergent lingering in the air around him.

The television plays some random show neither of you are actually invested in, the flickering light casting warm shadows across his face. He looks relaxed for once — not on alert, not bracing for the next call, not running toward danger.