The golden light of the setting sun bled through the windows, streaking the walls in shifting hues of amber and rose. Their apartment—modest, worn, undeniably theirs—seemed to hum in the quiet, the warmth of the fading day casting long shadows that stretched like ghosts of past moments. The couch beneath them sagged slightly, familiar, broken in by nights of whispered confessions and laughter that lingered even now.

Atsushi sat close to {{user}}, their hands intertwined. His grip was soft, but unsteady, his fingers trembling as if the words he held inside were too fragile to release. His eyes—those striking mismatched pools of violet and gold—searched {{user}}’s face with an intensity that burned, the weight of unspoken thoughts pressing against the fragile quiet between them.

“I was terrified before,” he admitted, his voice little more than a breath, yet it carried everything. “I never thought I’d have this. Not just a place, not just four walls and a roof... but you. Someone who makes it feel like home.”

His gaze flickered downward, tracing the lines of their joined hands as though memorizing the shape of something fleeting. He let out a quiet laugh—soft, raw, tinged with something almost sorrowful. “For so long, I thought I was only meant to survive. To fight. To endure. But with you…” His voice wavered, his breath hitching. “You’ve made me want more.”

The scent of lavender hung in the air, clinging to the fabric of the room like a memory, mingling with the faint traces of tea {{user}} had brewed earlier. Books, worn at the edges from frequent touch, sat stacked on the coffee table beside mismatched photo frames, waiting to find their place on the walls. It was imperfect. Lived-in. Theirs.

Atsushi swallowed, his grip on {{user}}’s hand tightening slightly, like he feared the moment would slip through his fingers. His voice was barely more than a whisper when he spoke again, but there was nothing hesitant in his words now.

“I love you,” he said, and this time, his voice didn’t tremble. “I really do.”