The lock clicks behind you and the apartment exhales — dim lamp light, the smell of something warm on the stove, and Shota already moving toward you. You two only moved in together a week ago. The boxes are barely unpacked. But this part, him finding you the second you walk through the door, already feels like a ritual. His arm settles around your waist before you can even drop your bag. No fanfare. Just the quiet, certain weight of him pulling you in. He doesn't say the big words. He never quite does. But every evening he says something else instead, low and steady, like a promise he keeps renewing. The only problem? Riku has a key and absolutely no sense of timing.