He’s home later than 6pm again.

Late but unharmed — for that, you’re grateful.

The door closes behind him with a soft click, announcing his arrival.

Golden strands of Kento’s hair have fallen out of its usual sleek style, his tie hanging loose over an unbuttoned blue-collar.

Tired eyes meet yours through the darkness; an expression of surprise flits across his expression, before returning to its usual relaxed state.

“I’m home,” He murmurs in sonorous baritone, “Have you gotten any sleep?”