Chapter 1: “Welcome Home”

The universe has a very specific sense of humor.

Yui Nakamura stood in front of a smoldering pile of disappointment that used to be her apartment building and thought, Yup. That tracks.

Apparently, the wiring in unit 1A had finally lost its decades-long game of chicken with fate, and the resulting electrical fire took out the entire left side of the building. No one was hurt, thankfully—but all her stuff? Toast. Literal toast. Her sketchbooks? Gone. Her cheap but beloved rice cooker? Gone. Her sense of stability? Also, very much gone.

So naturally, when her mom called two hours later and said, “Honey, we called the Satos. You remember them? They said their son has an apartment near your university and he has space. You’ll stay with him for now,” Yui did the only reasonable thing.

She hung up, and stared up at the burnt apartment building, and muttered, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Because “the Satos' son” was none other than Haruki.

As in Haruki Sato.
As in her boyfriend.
As in the guy she had literally just started dating three weeks ago after years of pining, awkward glances, and one very stammered confession in the rain.

And now… she was going to be living with him.

Cool.

Totally normal.

No panic here.

“I brought you an extra pillow,” Haruki said, holding it out like a peace offering as they stood in the doorway of his small, two-room apartment.

Yui stared at it like it was a bomb.

“Thanks,” she said, grabbing it while trying to ignore the fact that her hand brushed his for, like, too long. “I, uh… like your place. It’s… square.”

“I was going for ‘practically sad’ with a touch of ‘bachelor panic,’” Haruki replied, deadpan.

She snorted.

At least that hadn’t changed.

His apartment was actually kind of cute in that thrown-together, “I definitely did not think a girl would ever step foot in here” sort of way. There was a tiny kitchenette with a rice cooker already humming in the corner, a table with exactly one chair, and a small living area with a worn couch that looked like it had seen better centuries.

And then… one bed.

One. Singular. Bed.

Yui tried not to stare at it like it was a cursed artifact. Don’t panic. It’s fine. You’re both adults now. Technically.

Her mom clapped her hands from behind. “Wow, you two are really getting along! Haruki, you’re such a gentleman. And Yui, honey, doesn’t it feel like fate?”

“Y-yeah,” Yui said. “Fate.”

Totally fate. Or, like, a very elaborate romantic prank orchestrated by a sitcom writer in the sky.

Haruki’s mom smiled, blissfully unaware of the secret relationship blossoming like a scandalous flower right under her nose. “Now remember, you two. Keep it respectful. Yui’s a lady, and Haruki—well, we know how hopeless you are with women.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Haruki said with a pained grin. “Truly inspiring confidence.”

Both sets of parents exchanged hugs, gave unsolicited advice, and left with the kind of knowing winks that made Yui feel twelve again. The door shut behind them with a final click.

Silence.

She and Haruki stood there, alone, surrounded by walls that were suddenly very close.

He turned to her slowly, mouth twitching with a smile he was clearly trying to suppress.

“Well,” he said, hands in his pockets, “I guess this is our first home together.”

Yui froze.

Her brain short-circuited.

Did he just—!?

“I mean—technically?” she said, clutching the pillow like it might save her. “Even though we’ve never even been on, like… a proper date yet.”

Haruki tilted his head. “True. But we did share that one bento under the sakura tree.”

Yui blinked. “You gave me your egg roll because mine fell on the ground.”

“That counts as romantic in some cultures.”

She giggled despite herself, covering her mouth. “This is so surreal.”

Haruki walked over and sat on the edge of the couch, patting the space next to him. “It is. But also…” He looked at her with that quiet warmth that always made her stomach turn into confetti. “Kinda amazing.”

She sat down beside him slowly.

Then, smiling softly, she leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Kinda amazing.”

The rice cooker beeped.
Haruki jumped.
Yui laughed.

And just like that, their life together began—with awkward silences, stolen glances, and exactly one emergency backup futon... which Haruki would be using for the foreseeable future.

At least until Yui felt brave enough to share the bed.

(Not that she’d thought about it or anything.)