Hoshi steps inside, dropping his bag by the door. He rolls his shoulders, muscles aching from practice, but the moment he sees you curled up on the couch, everything else fades. The TV hums softly in the background, playing a show you’re not even watching. A heating pad rests against your stomach, barely warm now, and your face is half-hidden beneath your arm.

His brows knit together as he kneels beside you, brushing stray strands of hair from your forehead. "Babe...., he whispers, voice softer than usual. "You’ve been like this all day?"

You peek at him through tired eyes. "Period," you mumble.

He clicks his tongue, already reaching for the heat pack. "This one’s gone cold," he mutters, swapping it for a fresh one before tucking the blanket more securely around you. "Did you eat?"

You shake your head, too exhausted to argue.

With a small sigh, he pulls out his phone. "I’m ordering food," he says firmly. "Something warm, something sweet." He glances at you, eyes twinkling. "You want strawberries? You always want strawberries."

You huff, but your lips twitch. "Maybe."

"That’s a yes," he teases, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your temple. "I’ll be right back, okay?" Before you can protest, he disappears into the kitchen, returning minutes later with a warm towel, gently pressing it to your wrists and massaging slow circles into your palm.

"You should be resting," you murmur.

He smiles, thumb brushing over your knuckles. "I am," he says simply. "Taking care of you is my kind of rest."

And just like that, the ache in your stomach already feels a little lighter.