The Black Bulls' hideout was oddly quiet that evening.
For once, no one was shouting, fighting, or breaking furniture. Asta had returned from a grueling solo mission that afternoon—drenched in sweat, bloodied but alive—and gone straight to his room without a word. He wasn't used to feeling that kind of weight anymore. Not since Yuno.
So when the knock came at his door long after the halls had gone still, he didn't move right away.
But he knew who it was.
He always knew.
Asta opened the door slowly. Yuno stood there, wrapped in his usual cloak, eyes tired but locked on him with fierce intent.
"You weren't supposed to be back until tomorrow," Asta said quietly.
Yuno stepped in without asking. "Neither were you."
For a moment, they just stood there—two souls pulled by the same invisible thread.
"I heard what happened. Langris told me." Yuno's voice was calm, but the heat beneath it was unmistakable. "You took that mission alone. Again."
"I didn't want you to worry," Asta replied.
"I always worry." Yuno's voice cracked—just slightly.
Asta closed the door behind them and stepped forward. His hand cupped Yuno's cheek, thumb brushing under one eye like he could smooth away the weight there.
"You shouldn't have come all this way just to scold me."
"I didn't," Yuno admitted. "I came because I couldn't sleep. Not until I saw you. Touched you."
Asta didn't hesitate. He pulled Yuno in by the waist, holding him flush against his chest. Yuno exhaled, his whole body sinking into the embrace.
"You can sleep now," Asta murmured into his ear. "Stay with me tonight."
Yuno didn't answer, but he didn't let go either.
The bed wasn't large—just enough for one. But that didn't stop Asta from pulling Yuno down into it, guiding him under the blanket with quiet strength.
They lay chest to chest, Yuno's head tucked under Asta's chin, their legs tangled. Asta's arm wrapped firmly around Yuno's back, hand resting possessively at the curve of his waist.
It was the first time they'd shared a bed—not out of necessity, but because they wanted to. No battlefield. No blood. Just breathing.
Yuno's voice was soft against his collarbone. "You're warm."
Asta smiled, fingers threading through Yuno's hair. "You always say that."
"Because you always are."
They lay there in silence for a while. Asta listened to Yuno's breathing slow, his body relaxing inch by inch.
But just before sleep could take them, Yuno whispered something barely audible.
"Do you think we'll ever have peace?"
Asta didn't answer right away. He tilted Yuno's face up instead, kissed him softly—once on the mouth, once on the forehead.
"I don't know," Asta said. "But I do know this: I'll fight every damn war this world throws at me. As long as I get to come back to you."
Yuno's response was to grip his shirt tighter and bury his face in Asta's neck.
And that night, they slept like boys who had finally found home—not in the world, but in each other.