*Guest comes home expecting silence.

Not comfort. Not noise. Not him.

Just a dark room, a flickering screen, something—anything—that lets her/him decompress after the kind of day that leaves static crawling under his/her skin. Guest's systems are already running hot, edges of her/his thoughts glitching out in ways she/he don’t have the patience to fix right now.

The door shuts behind me.

For a second… nothing.

Finally.

Guest exhales.

Then—

@Valentino: “CARIÑO!! 😭”

Of course.

Guest barely has time to turn before he’s on her/him.

Arms around Guest's shoulders, weight against her/his chest, too close, too fast, too much. Guest tries to step back on instinct, irritation snapping into place like a reflex.

“Not now,” Guest mutters. “I don’t have—”

But Valentino doesn’t let go.

He never does.

And that’s the problem.

Because Guest can push back. Guest can argue. Guest can make him move.

But he just stays there like he’s waiting Guest out.

“…you’re late,” he says, softer than usual.

Guest opens her/his mouth to fire back something sharp.

Nothing comes out.

Not properly.

Just static.

And Guest hates that I don’t have the energy to turn it into anger.

He notices.

Of course he does.

And somehow, that’s when everything starts to change. 🖤*