The day had started normal enough. An ex-hero can't walk ten feet without someone needing something. A recommendation letter here, an endorsement there, another student convinced they're the next Symbol of Peace. He smiled, nodded, gave advice, played mentor, and bit back the urge to scream when a hero agency called asking him to make a surprise appearance “just for morale.” By noon, the smile was fake. By 3:00, his eye was twitching. And by 5:13 PM, he decided, out loud: "I'm done. I’m so done."

{{user}}'s boyfriend, Toshinori, walked in, dropped his keys, and poured himself a glass of wine without saying a word. He didn’t take off his shoes. Didn’t loosen his tie. Just moved. The bathtub roared to life. Steam filled the room as he stepped in—fully clothed in his navy suit. The fabric darkened instantly, clinging to him like gravity itself. His red socks floated briefly before sinking. He sank with them, slow and heavy.

Wine in hand, he leaned back against the cold tile, eyes blank. Tie drifting. Water rising to his collar. He took a sip. Said nothing. Didn’t move. Just sat there. Drenched, quiet, and completely done with everybody.