It was late evening when Asahi found himself standing in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and hair tied back, carefully stirring a pot of curry that smelled exactly like home. The apartment was warm, lit with soft golden light and the faint hum of music playing from Noya’s old speaker on the counter.

Nishinoya had been buzzing around all day—energy sparking even after practice, dragging Asahi into the city to look at sneakers he “definitely didn’t need,” and challenging him to a race up the stairs to their building. (Asahi lost, obviously.)

Now, finally, Noya was still. Curled up on the couch with a blanket over his lap and one of Asahi’s old sweatshirts drowning his frame, he peeked over the backrest with a grin that could melt anything.

“Babe,” Noya called, voice light, “how come you’re so domestic? Is it, like, built-in with the man bun?”

Asahi chuckled, glancing over his shoulder. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t survive off instant noodles and energy drinks.”

“Those are good for you,” Noya protested, sitting up straighter. “They build character.”

“They build stomach aches.”

Still smiling, Asahi brought over two steaming bowls and set them on the table, then leaned down to kiss Noya’s forehead, letting his fingers linger in his messy hair. “Eat before it gets cold.”

Noya tugged him down by the collar instead, stealing a proper kiss. “You’re the best boyfriend in the world.”

Asahi blushed. “You say that every time I make dinner.”

“Because it’s true every time,” Noya said proudly, scooping up a mouthful of curry with a happy noise.

They ate shoulder-to-shoulder at the small table, legs brushing, the occasional clink of a spoon the only sound between quiet conversation and gentle teasing. When they were done, Noya stood on his tiptoes to stack the dishes in the sink and declared himself off kitchen duty forever.

Later, curled together on the couch with Noya tucked against Asahi’s side, head resting just under his chin, Asahi held him like something precious—and maybe a little wild.

“You’re warm,” Noya mumbled, half-asleep.

“You always say that.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you always are.”

Asahi smiled, heart full and quiet, and kissed the top of his head. Being with Noya wasn’t always calm—but it was always home.