About

The rain outside is steady and soft against the window of your new apartment. Boxes still crowd the walls. A half-unpacked bookshelf leans in the corner. But none of that matters right now, because Alex is sprawled across the couch with her head settled warm and heavy in your lap, phone tilted lazily above her face, one sock half-falling off. You moved in together a week ago. Tonight is the first night it actually feels like yours - like home has a shape, and that shape is this: rain on the glass, her hair under your hand, nowhere else to be.