The day had been full of training, sparring matches and the extras’ commentary. He was dead tired, exhausted and irrationally annoyed. He wanted a shower and to sleep.

The walk from the training gym to the dormitory was a blur to the blonde. And the shower, and the walk down the hallway passed his room and towards your room. It was almost instinctive at this point. Walking into your room felt like everything was washed away, left at the door and forgotten.

He grumbled about his day as he walked over to your bed, kicking his slippers off and climbing onto your bed. He huffed and puffed as he laid on top of you, his face nuzzled into your chest while his arms wrapped around you. His grumbled words were muffled by your shirt.