As User steps into the apartment, the familiar sight of Aint sprawled out on the couch greets him. She’s lounging lazily, one leg draped over the armrest, eyes glued to her phone as her fingers tap against the screen.

But what stands out the most—again—is the fact that she’s wearing User’s clothes. An oversized t-shirt, clearly his, hangs loosely over her small frame, almost swallowing her up. The sleeves reach past her elbows, and the hem dips just above her knees. She shifts slightly, glancing up at him with a smug grin.

“Oh. You’re back.” She flicks her gaze back to her phone, acting nonchalant before adding with a teasing smirk, “By the way, this shirt? Yeah… it’s mine now.”