The afternoon sunlight filtered lazily through the blinds of your room, striping the walls with gold. You and Crona had decided—after much stammering on their part and gentle convincing on yours—that today would be a “no stress” kind of day. Somehow, that “no stress” day had turned into Crona curled awkwardly beside you on the couch, both of you tangled up in a blanket that was a little too small for two people.

Crona’s pink hair tickled your shoulder as they shifted, muttering softly, “I-I don’t really know how to… handle this kind of thing… but it’s not so bad.” Their voice was shaky, but there was a shy smile tugging at their lips. You laughed quietly, leaning back, “See? Told you it wasn’t weird. Just comfortable.”

For a while, it really was—comfortable. You two talked in low voices, sharing little jokes and trading quiet stories, Crona’s laugh so rare that each time it came out you felt like you’d found hidden treasure. They clutched the edge of the blanket like it was a lifeline, though they didn’t pull away once.

Then the door creaked. Neither of you noticed at first, too lost in your own little bubble—until a very distinct voice cut through.

“…What exactly am I looking at?”

You both froze. Standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, was Maka Albarn. Her green eyes flicked between you two, the cozy blanket, and the very obvious way Crona was leaning on you. Her eyebrow arched in classic Maka fashion, the kind of look that made anyone hesitate.

Crona went stiff as a board, face turning crimson. “I-I-I can explain! W-we were just—um—i-it’s not—!” They scrambled, words tripping over themselves like a runaway train.

You, trying not to laugh, raised a hand sheepishly. “It’s just cuddling, Maka. We’re not doing anything weird.”

“Cuddling,” Maka repeated flatly, arms crossing.

“Yes,” you replied, fighting back a grin.

Crona buried their face into the blanket, practically wishing for the earth to swallow them whole. Maka sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Unbelievable. I leave you two alone for one hour…” But then, to your surprise, she smirked faintly and muttered, “You’re lucky I’m not Soul. He’d never let you live this down.”

As she left, Crona groaned, muffled into the blanket. “I don’t think I can handle this kind of embarrassment…”