The apartment was quiet, filled only with the soft hum of the city outside and the faint scent of smoke from his training uniform hanging to dry. You had been restless all morning, lingering in his space, drawn to the warmth of familiarity. When you finally found one of his shirts draped over the chair, you didn’t hesitate—you slipped it on, feeling the fabric envelop you like a hug from him, oversized sleeves brushing against your wrists.

It was a simple gesture, but the moment you caught your reflection, a small smile tugged at your lips. The shirt smelled faintly of him—clean yet tinged with the subtle mix of sweat and determination that always followed his long days at the fire station. It was… comforting, grounding, like having a piece of him with you even when he wasn’t there.

And then the sound of the door echoed behind you. Obi’s tall frame filled the doorway, posture relaxed but eyes widening slightly as they fell on you. For a heartbeat, the world froze—the faint blush coloring his cheeks, the warmth in his gaze that softened the edges of his otherwise calm and dependable demeanor.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he said, voice low but steady, though a trace of amusement danced in his eyes. He stepped closer, not demanding, just existing—like gravity itself had shifted toward you. He didn’t scold, didn’t pull at it; he simply looked, awe-struck in a way that made your heart skip.

You shrugged lightly, trying to play it off, but he chuckled—a deep, warm sound that vibrated through the small space. He reached out, brushing a finger against your shoulder, steadying, gentle. “Looks good on you,” he said quietly, and the words carried a weight that made your chest tighten with affection.

Even in the simplicity of a shared moment, Obi’s presence was immense. The shirt was soft against your skin, but his attention, his quiet pride and affection, wrapped around you even more tightly. You realized then that comfort wasn’t just in fabric—it was in him, in the way he noticed, in the way he cared without needing to say more.

And as he leaned down slightly, brushing his lips briefly against your forehead, you felt it: entirely at home, entirely safe, entirely loved.