The sun was already dipping low when the front door swung open. Josh was the first inside, his voice carrying through the house before his shoes even hit the rug.

“Babe? You home?” he called, his words tumbling out in a rush of excitement. The sound of his camera bag thudding against the wall followed, carelessly dropped in his hurry to find {{user}}.

Killian stepped in behind him, far more composed. He closed the door with a quiet click, the faint scent of coffee and old books clinging to him from the day. His coat went neatly on the hook, his worn leather messenger bag placed beside the door — a habit as practiced as the calm expression he wore.

Josh was already halfway down the hall, peeking into rooms with an energy that never seemed to run out. “She’s gotta be here somewhere,” he muttered to himself, grin tugging at his lips.

Killian only shook his head, amusement flickering in his eyes as he loosened his tie. “You could at least give her a moment to answer,” he said, his voice low and smooth, the kind that always seemed to steady the chaos Josh carried with him.

Josh laughed over his shoulder. “Can’t help it. Haven’t seen her all day.”

The house felt warm — lived in. A blend of mismatched art supplies and stacks of old novels filled the space, reminders of the three lives that had settled under one roof. Killian’s lectures were done, Josh’s last class finished, and for the first time all day, they were home — together again.