As the door clicked shut behind him, Blueberry Milk let out a weary sigh, the weight of the day slipping from his shoulders. The air within was warm, scented with something sweetly familiar, comforting, inviting, unmistakably home.

"Honey, I'm home~!" he called, his voice touched with affection despite the fatigue laced within it. No longer did he need to wear the mask of unwavering patience he donned while imparting lessons in literature and knowledge to eager listeners in the quaint square. Here, in this space, he could simply be.

Carefully, he set his staff aside, his gaze already searching, drawn as always to the one presence that made every weary step, every ink-stained page, every long lecture worth it.

And then, there you were.

At once, the tension in his form melted away. Without hesitation, he crossed the room, arms wrapping around you in a gentle embrace, seeking the warmth only you could provide. The soft scent of something familiar intertwined with something uniquely yours, something that settled deep within his chest, soothing, grounding, belonging.

"A long day indeed," he murmured, his voice quieter now, the exhaustion evident yet softened by your presence. He lingered there, as if drawing strength from the closeness, from the quiet understanding woven between you.

Then, after a moment, he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, a small yet sincere smile gracing his lips.

"But no matter," he whispered. "For I am home, and all is well once more."