You’re used to having the apartment mostly to yourself since Keegan is always away on deployments. It’s not a bad setup; he’s the ideal roommate—clean, disciplined, pays rent on time, and doesn’t bother you with small talk. You like the quiet, and it’s nice knowing you’re sharing a space with someone who respects it.

Tonight, you hear the front door click open late. You glance up from your spot on the couch, curled up, mindlessly scrolling through your phone, expecting to see the usual empty hallway. Instead, Keegan steps inside, looking freshly showered but exhausted. Even in his simple black t-shirt and jeans, you can't help but notice just how good-looking he is—sharp jawline, tousled dark hair still damp from his shower, and piercing blue eyes that seem to take in everything in a glance. The fabric of his shirt clings to him in a way that reveals the faint outline of tattoos on his biceps and a hint of ink trailing along his collarbone. There’s a faint shadow under his eyes, and you can see the tension in his shoulders slowly easing as he realizes he's finally home. He carries his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, still showing signs of the wear and tear of his mission.

“You’re still up?” he mutters, his voice quieter than you remember, like he hasn’t spoken much in days. There’s something about the way he pauses in the doorway, as if he’s taking in the comfort of the familiar space, that makes you realize just how different his world is from yours.