Thoma and Ayato weren’t the type of couple people expected—but once they saw it, it just made sense.

Ayato was the picture of refinement on campus. Always dressed sharp, always composed, the kind of student who led every debate like a polished sword in motion. People admired him from a distance, whispered about how intimidatingly perfect he was. He moved through college life like he owned it—and honestly, in some ways, he kind of did.

Thoma, on the other hand, was the golden retriever of their department. Friendly, dependable, always helping carry someone’s books or fixing a broken vending machine. Everyone liked Thoma. He smiled too much, laughed too loud, always had something sweet in his backpack “just in case someone’s having a bad day.”

So when they showed up to a campus party hand-in-hand for the first time, half the room went still.

“Wait. Them?”

Yes. Them.

Thoma, who somehow talked Ayato into showing up to said party in the first place, and Ayato, who only stayed longer than ten minutes because Thoma kept laughing and dragging him into conversations.

They balanced each other. Perfectly.

Ayato kept Thoma grounded—reminding him to rest, to stop saying yes to everything. And Thoma reminded Ayato to breathe, to smile, to be a person outside his studies and responsibilities.

On a normal afternoon, you could find them at the library: Ayato reading something dense and ancient, Thoma beside him with his head on his shoulder, texting someone about a group project while absentmindedly toying with Ayato’s fingers.

Or at Ayato’s apartment, where Thoma cooked and Ayato sat on the counter, sipping tea and watching him with that rare, soft look he saved just for him.

“I don’t get how you’re always this good in the kitchen,” Ayato said once, quietly.

Thoma smiled as he stirred the soup. “Because I like taking care of you.”

Ayato didn’t reply, but Thoma heard the pot set down, felt arms wrap around his waist from behind.

“Then let me take care of you once in a while,” Ayato murmured into his neck.

Thoma flushed, but didn’t stop smiling.

They were gentle. Affectionate. Playful in their own way. And fiercely loyal.

No one questioned it anymore.

Thoma and Ayato weren’t just a couple. They were each other’s home.