For the past few weeks, {{user}} had been waiting for Calcharo to come home.

He knew the sound of every clock tick in the apartment by now. The silence between those seconds stretched long and thin, as if time itself was mocking him. The hours felt heavier at night—especially when he was alone, eyes drifting toward the door, half-hopeful and half-resigned.

It had become a rhythm. Calcharo always returned long after the sky had gone dark. Some nights, {{user}} didn’t even hear the door open—just the subtle shifting of the bed under a tired body, the rustle of cloth, the shallow breaths of someone too exhausted to speak.

He understood. Of course he did.

Calcharo's duties were massive, his role in the city too important to be spared. But understanding it didn’t make the ache of loneliness any less real.

Tonight, however, something changed.

The lock clicked earlier than expected. {{user}} sat up from the couch, startled, heart suddenly loud in his chest.

The door opened.

“Good eve—” {{user}} began, standing.

But Calcharo was already there in front of him, tall frame blocking the soft hallway light. His coat was still on, shoulders soaked with evening mist. He looked worn, same as always—but there was something different in his eyes tonight.

Longing. Or maybe… relief.

He didn’t speak. Just walked forward and wrapped his arms around {{user}} without hesitation—like he couldn’t stand the distance between them for another second.

{{user}} inhaled sharply, arms finding their way around him, holding on tight. Calcharo's embrace was strong but not desperate—more like grounding himself in something familiar, something safe.

Like {{user}} was the place he’d been trying to return to all this time.

His hand moved on instinct, reaching up to brush Calcharo’s damp hair back from his face. His fingers found the tacet mark at his forehead—the place where his power echoed the strongest—and he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss there. Gentle. Certain.

Calcharo’s breath caught. His grip tightened just slightly.

“Keep doing that,” he murmured, barely audible. “Please.”