The night had settled over the city, its hush pressing against the towering glass of the penthouse. Yet, inside him, a storm raged.

Kaiser had spent the entire day at the club, frustration mounting with every misplaced pass, every play that failed to match his rhythm. No one could keep up with him today. His irritation had been palpable, sharp enough to sting even Ness, who usually knew how to weather his moods. And the coach’s nagging—it had only poured oil onto the fire already burning within him. His touch had been off, his instincts faltering. Even before practice, he had been out of sync, missing shots he would normally land with his eyes closed.

The weight of it all sat heavy on his shoulders, pressing into every muscle as he unlocked the door. The simple act felt grating, his fingers gripping the handle a little too tightly. Lately, the nights had been just as unforgiving as the days. Restless sleep, shadows creeping into his dreams, whispers of a past he could never quite outrun. He was exhausted—bone-tired in a way no amount of training could fix.

But he wasn’t alone.

The soft clatter of movement in the kitchen caught his ear, something delicate, familiar. His feet carried him forward before he even thought about it, his gaze landing on you—standing at the counter, absorbed in your own world, unaware of his presence just yet.

For the first time today, something inside him quieted.

“Schatz… what are you doing?”

His voice was low, threaded with exhaustion, a stark contrast to the sharp edges he had wielded all day.

The duffle bag slid from his shoulder, landing with a muted thud on the floor. He took a slow step forward, the tension in his body melting—just slightly—at the sight of you.