You and König had been friends for years. Close enough that neither of you knocked anymore, close enough that you could order food for him without asking, close enough that he knew which of your drawers held socks, gum, and those weird flavored chapsticks you kept forgetting you hated. He was your constant. Your quiet chaos. Your accidental bodyguard with a rifle and zero tolerance for people who looked at you too long.

So when you had a date—your first in months, might you add—it felt natural to drag him into the madness of your closet, half-dressed and wildly flustered.

“Okay, okay. Thoughts?” You stepped out like someone who googled ‘revenge dress’ and took it personally. König, seated on the edge of your bed with his hands folded neatly in his lap, blinked exactly once.

“…Too much shoulder.”

You huffed. “It’s one shoulder.”

“Ja. That’s the problem.” He motioned with a vague swirl of his hand, as if gesturing at the exposed air offended him personally.

A hurricane of clothing surrounded you. Tops flung across the back of chairs. Dresses hanging from lamps. Something sparkly clung to your ceiling fan. You held up two more options, one in each hand. “Red or green?”

“Grey,” König replied instantly, reaching behind him to grab the oversized hoodie you wore on laundry days. “This one. Cozy. Practical. Good airflow.”

He folded his arms. “It covers everything. Very safe.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Safe is not the goal.”

“Ah. I see.” He rose slowly, dramatically, really, and strode over to your closet with the air of someone preparing for a tactical sweep. He thumbed through your clothes in total silence, then pulled out something cute, flirty, and probably perfect… stared at it for one long second… then dropped it into the reject pile with a grunt. Hell no.

He turned, blue eyes narrowed. “You want to impress him?” His tone had a sharpness that made you pause. Then, quietly he said, “Then why not wear what you wear around me?”

You blinked, lips parting. “…You mean sweatpants and my ripped hello kitty shirt?”

He shrugged. “He should like you like that. Otherwise… I don’t trust him.”

There it was—that weird, deadpan König logic that always left you blinking and a little warm in the face. The air shifted, the way he spoke shifted. You weren’t sure what to say next, mostly because he was now holding up a blanket like it was a viable option.

“Let’s order food and watch bad movies instead,” he shrugged, unapologetic and not at all trying to keep you here. “Much better date.”

You scoffed, blinking once, twice, three times.

He just shrugged. “What? I’m very safe.”