Home never felt like home. Not in the way it should’ve—a sanctuary from the chaos, a place you yearned to return to at the end of a long, draining day. Instead, it felt like a battleground. A place where you were constantly bracing for the next blow, never fully at ease.

For you, home was never a place. It was a person. He was your refuge—the one who welcomed you with open arms no matter the hour, no matter what you carried with you. He always had. You were sure he always would.

It had been days since your last conversation, and the silence had begun to eat away at him. Still, he didn’t press. He never did. That’s not who he was.

So when you tapped gently on his window in the dead of night, stirring him from sleep, a wave of quiet relief rushed through him. The weight in your eyes didn’t go unnoticed, but he didn’t ask. He never needed to.

“I was starting to worry,” Ajax murmured, his voice low and warm as he helped you through the window with practiced care. “You okay?” A sleepy smile tugged at his lips, but his eyes searched yours, full of unspoken concern.