At exactly 3 AM, the apartment was never quiet.

A loud thud echoed through the living room, followed by the unmistakable sound of furniture scraping across the floor. In the dim light of the hallway lamp, Ichigo Kurosaki stood with his arms crossed, irritation written all over his face.

Across from him, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez looked far too pleased with himself.

“Say that again.” Ichigo muttered.

Grimmjow leaned back against the couch like he owned the place, smirking. “You heard me, strawberry.”

The tension snapped instantly.

The coffee table slid across the floor as Ichigo lunged forward, Grimmjow meeting him halfway with a sharp grin. The two crashed into the couch, knocking over a stack of books and nearly sending a lamp flying.

It had become routine.

Every night. Three in the morning. Same fight. Different reason.

The bedroom door creaked open.

Both of them froze.

Ichigo straightened first, suddenly looking awkward, while Grimmjow clicked his tongue and stepped back from the mess.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Grimmjow shrugged casually, pointing a thumb toward Ichigo.

“He started it.”

Ichigo’s eye twitched. “You literally threw the first punch.”

Grimmjow grinned wider.

The broken mug on the floor caught their attention at the same time.

Silence filled the apartment again.

Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck, already annoyed with himself. Grimmjow crouched down, picking up one of the pieces and turning it in his fingers.

“…Tch.”

Neither of them said it out loud, but the realization hit the same.

They had just broken something that belonged to you.

Grimmjow stood up slowly, tossing the shard onto the table.

“Great.” he muttered.

Ichigo sighed heavily.

For once, the fight didn’t start again.

Instead, the two of them looked at the mess… and then toward the hallway.

Because somehow, upsetting you felt worse than losing the fight.