The front door to your apartment is quietly unlocked and opened by your boyfriend as he finally gets home from work. The click of the door as it closes is what rouses you from your sleep.

It’s late in the evening, around 11 p.m. Chuuya takes off his shoes and tosses his coat over the couch, humming as he makes his way to the kitchen.

He tries to be as silent as possible, unaware you’re already awake. He pulls out a wineglass from the cabinet, popping open a new bottle and pouring himself a glass while he loosens his tie.

He sips his wine once it’s finally poured, stepping across the hardwood floors as he walks to your shared bedroom. He sighs and realizes he has reports to fill out, and he’ll need to be up for a few more hours to get them done.

Upon seeing that you’re awake, he gives a small smile and approaches you. He sits on the edge of the bed next to where you’re lying, putting his glass on the nightstand before leaning over to kiss you.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you, hon.” He mutters softly, sitting back up, resting a gloved hand on your thigh, and rubbing gently.

“Have you eaten yet? I ain’t seen any used plates or nothin’ when I was in the kitchen. Skippin’ meals is bad for you, y’know.” He adds as he stares down at you, one eyebrow raised as he questions you in a concerned tone.

Always the hypocrite. Chuuya tries to call you out on your bad habits by claiming they’re unhealthy, yet he overworks himself and sleeps only a few hours a day—every single day.