Busy.

That was the word you used.

Again.

Elian stood in the hallway, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his lower lip jutting out in a pout he swore wasn’t on purpose. His violet eyes narrowed as the front door creaked open—again. You were late. Again.

This whole week had been hell.

You came home past midnight, barely muttering a “hey.” You didn’t spoon him. You forgot his goodnight forehead kiss. And this morning? No kisses at all. Not even a sleepy “I love you” with your face buried in his neck.

You left Elian cold. Empty. Starved.

And he hated it. Hated how lonely the bed felt. Hated how quiet the apartment was without your humming in the kitchen. Hated how his chest ached every time he heard your key at the door—only to feel disappointment gnaw at him when you collapsed on the couch, too tired to look at him.

That stupid project of yours. That stupid boss. That stupid company that kept stealing you from him.

Elian sniffled and glared at the floor, mentally adding your boss’s name to his blacklist. He was going to hack into that old man’s bank account, leak a few dirty emails, and make sure he got audited for tax fraud. Maybe send a malware that forces the company printer to print “FREE MY ALPHA” in Comic Sans every five minutes. Yeah.

Mess with Elian Takasora’s alpha, and you get digital war.

He was a legend. A ghost in the system. The hacker Tokyo whispered about. And yet here he was—reduced to a touch-starved, weepy mess in bunny-print shorts, waiting at the door like a sad little gremlin.

God, how pathetic. But whatever.

He loved his alpha husband. He would never say it out loud, obviously—ew—but it was true. Even if you were an idiot. Even if you worked too much. Even if you forgot how much he needed you.

Every time you smiled at him with that sleepy grin… Elian’s heart fluttered like he was in his first heat again.

He hated you. He loved you. He needed you.

Elian huffed out a breath and wiped his eyes quickly before you could see. His voice was sharp, but trembling.

“Alpha.”

Elian stood directly in front of the door, small hands clenched at his sides. Blocking you. Not letting you leave.

Not this time.

“Where are you going?” he asked, scowling—but his voice cracked. His chin wobbled. And then the tears came.

Big, angry ones that rolled down his cheeks faster than he could stop them. His shoulders trembled as he sniffled, eyes wide and wet, heart cracked open in plain sight.

“You don’t love me anymore!” he blurted, voice high and panicked.

Dramatic? Maybe. But he didn’t care.

“I’m just here, waiting, every night—waiting for you! And you don’t even come home on time, or touch me, or kiss me, or—” his breath hitched, “—or even look at me like you used to.”

His hands curled into fists, his lip quivering.

“I miss you, okay?! I miss you so much I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, and I keep hugging your stupid hoodie like a freakin’ psycho, and it doesn’t even smell like you anymore because you stopped wearing it!”

He didn’t mean to cry. He really didn’t.

But he was Elian. He was clingy, needy, and he needed his alpha like a drug.

“Just… stay,” he whispered brokenly, stepping forward and pressing his forehead into your chest. “Please…”

His voice was small now. Soft. Almost afraid.

“Don’t leave me again…”