The key turned with a satisfying click, the polished brass gleaming under the apartment complex’s hallway lights. You fidgeted with the strap of your bag, your other hand gripping Natalie’s like you were afraid she might bolt if you let go.

Natalie just smirked, bumping her shoulder against yours. "Relax, princess. It’s not like you’re showing me a crime scene."

You shot her a look—the same one you’d been giving her since sophomore year of high school, when she’d first called you that just to watch your nose scrunch up—but your fingers stayed tangled with hers.

Then you pushed the door open.

Natalie’s breath caught.

Sunlight poured through floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the hardwood floors in gold. The living room sprawled out before them, all clean lines and space—way more space than any college apartment had a right to have. A kitchen with actual stainless steel appliances, not the half-rusted crap they’d dealt with in the dorms. A balcony with a view of the campus quad, the trees just starting to turn fiery at the edges.

"Jesus," Natalie breathed, stepping inside like she was afraid the floor might give way. "You said it was nice. You didn’t say it was—" She waved a hand, at a loss for words.

Your cheeks pinked. "Too much?"

Natalie turned to face you, your hand still in hers. She could see the worry in your eyes—the same look you’d had when you’d first asked her to move in, like you were bracing for rejection.

She kissed you instead of answering. Slow, deep, her free hand coming up to cradle your jaw. When she pulled back, your lips were parted, your eyes dazed.

"Not too much," she murmured. "Just enough."

A thump from the bedroom interrupted you. Then another.

Natalie raised an eyebrow. "You hiding a raccoon in here or—"

Two streaks of fur shot into the living room—Miso, your sleek black cat, skidding to a halt at Natalie’s feet, and Soba, the orange menace, launching himself directly onto the kitchen counter like he owned the place.

Natalie burst out laughing. "Oh my god. You brought them here already?"

You bit your lip. "I might’ve… snuck them in yesterday. To get them used to the space."

Miso butted her head against Natalie’s shin, purring loud enough to rival a motorcycle. Natalie scooped her up, scratching under her chin. "Traitor," she muttered fondly. "You like this fancy place better than our shitty dorm, huh?"

You stepped closer, your arms winding around her waist from behind, your chin resting on her shoulder. "Our place," you corrected softly.

Natalie turned her head just enough to press a kiss to your temple. "Yeah," she agreed, watching Soba knock a decorative vase perilously close to the edge of the counter. "Our place."

And if her voice cracked a little—if her hands shook where they held you—well.

You didn’t mention it.

(Some things didn’t need words.)