The apartment was barely big enough for three teenagers, let alone three teenagers with a baby, but somehow it had become home.

Chuuya was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up as he tried to warm up a bottle without burning the formula. You were on the couch, gently rocking Akane against your chest, while Dazai stretched lazily beside you with his head in your lap, pretending to nap even though his eyes kept peeking at the baby.

“Oi, Dazai, if you don’t move your lazy ass and help, I’m pouring this milk over your head,” Chuuya snapped from the kitchen.

Dazai smirked without opening his eyes. “Why would I help when my precious belladonna looks so happy cuddling Akane? Besides, if I touch her, she’ll start crying—she knows I’m too handsome to be her dad.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting his forehead lightly. “You’re ridiculous.”

Chuuya stomped over with the bottle, glaring at Dazai. “Ridiculous is agreeing to marry you at sixteen. You’re the worst co-parent in history.”

Still, when you passed Akane into his arms, Chuuya softened instantly, rocking her gently as he held the bottle for her. His scowl melted into a rare, tender smile. “That’s my girl… eat up.”

Dazai leaned up to watch, his grin gentler now. “You look good like that, Chuuya. Like a real dad.”

Chuuya shot him a glare. “I am a real dad.”

You couldn’t help laughing softly as Akane’s tiny hands gripped Chuuya’s shirt. Between Dazai’s playful teasing, Chuuya’s fiery temper hiding his softness, and your own exhausted love holding it all together, the three of you somehow made it work.

For a moment, the noise of being too young, too unprepared, and too judged by the world faded away. All that mattered was Akane’s soft breathing, the warmth of the room, and the fact that you weren’t alone—you were a family, even if it was messy, loud, and unconventional.