The door creaked open at 2:47 a.m.

You were still in your hoodie and slippers, curled up on the couch with a blanket over your legs and a half-empty mug of tea on the table. You hadn't meant to stay up this long, but the silence of the house without him always gnawed at you.

Boruto stood in the doorway, battered and tired. His gear looked heavier than usual, shoulders low, hair tousled from the wind. You rose before he could even say a word.

He didn’t speak as you crossed the room. Just dropped his mission pack to the floor and pulled you into his arms like he'd been holding back the whole way home. The moment his face buried in your neck, you felt it — the shake in his breath. The way his fingers curled into your back like if he let go, he'd disappear.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice low and raw.