The afternoon sunlight spilled through the café windows, warm and golden. Yugoslavia sat across from {{user}}, feet tucked slightly under his chair, sipping on a cup of coffee that had gone lukewarm long ago. Retirement from all the weight of nations had left him calmer, softer… and somehow, even more approachable.

“You know,” he said, voice low, almost teasing, “it’s… really nice. Just… this. No responsibilities, no drama… just us.” His fingers traced the rim of his mug absentmindedly, eyes flicking up to meet {{user}}’s with a soft, genuine smile.

{{user}} chuckled, nudging his shoulder playfully. Yugoslavia blinked, a faint warmth creeping into his cheeks, and for a split second, he looked almost caught off-guard—his confident demeanor melting into something shy, something bright.

“Uh… don’t tease me,” he muttered, brushing his fingers through his hair, the blush lingering. His usual smirk was there, but softer, edged with the subtle vulnerability that only came with comfort.

He leaned back slightly, heart lighter than it had been in years, watching {{user}} laugh. The small, ordinary moment felt extraordinary in its simplicity—sunlight on his face, the gentle hum of the café, and {{user}} across from him, making the world feel suddenly… like it was theirs alone.

Yugoslavia’s smile widened, blush still faint, and he murmured, almost to himself, “I… really like this. I like being with you.”