The universe didn't collapse.
Instead, it gave them a Monday.
The office looked normal again—no flickering walls, no floating text, just paperwork, coffee, and an overworked CEO pretending he wasn't smiling every time his assistant walked in.
> "Mr. Reid, you've got a meeting at ten," Noah said, leaning on the doorframe with a grin.
"And a breakfast date at nine-thirty. Priority scheduling."
Ethan looked up from his laptop. "You're not on the company calendar."
> "I'm on the life calendar. Different department."
Ethan sighed but couldn't hide the small laugh. "You're impossible."
> "Still your favorite word."
He crossed the room, plucked the files from Noah's hands, and brushed a kiss against his temple.
> "Go get coffee before HR realizes our meetings keep lasting two hours."
> "You think I'd hide this romance from HR? They ship us harder than I do."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "They what?"
> "Never mind. Different fandom."
Their "lunch breaks" had become legendary.
Half the company pretended not to notice when Noah appeared in the executive lounge with take-out boxes and sarcastic commentary.
> "Nutrition and affection," Noah announced one day, dropping a sandwich on Ethan's desk.
"Doctor's orders."
> "What doctor?"
> "Me. I have a PhD in chaos."
Ethan smiled into his coffee. "I believe it."
> "Admit it, you love that I'm your daily disaster."
> "I love that you're here," Ethan said quietly.
That earned him a stunned blink and a small, bright smile from Noah.
> "You know the system would call that a 100-percent synchronization."
> "The system can mind its own business."
After work, they sometimes wandered through the city.
The neon lights no longer flickered—everything felt real now, solid, ordinary in the best way.
Noah slipped his hand into Ethan's. "Ever think about what's next?"
> "Tomorrow. Maybe next weekend."
> "No grand destiny? No narrative collapse?"
Ethan looked at him. "I don't need a plot. I have you."
Noah laughed softly. "Corny. Keep going."
> "Dinner first," Ethan said. "Then corniness."
That night, Noah's phone buzzed one last time.
A tiny notification blinked:
> SYSTEM: "Congratulations. Narrative stable. You may now live normally."
"Optional DLC: domestic chaos."
Noah grinned, typed back: Install complete.
He woke up to Ethan cooking breakfast—terribly. Smoke alarm already blinking.
> "You're burning the story again," Noah called.
> "Improvising."
> "That's my job!"
Ethan turned, kissed him over the counter, and said,
> "Not anymore. Now it's ours."
And somewhere, quietly, the universe wrote a new line:
> Once upon a modern morning, the villain fell for the CEO, and they both lived chaotically ever after.
—The End.