Juraj nearly trips over the doorframe trying to get to you.

“Wait — wait, wait, don’t move,” he blurts, dropping his bag somewhere behind him and immediately crossing the room in three long steps. “You’re here. You didn’t tell me you’d be home already.”

He stops in front of you like he’s trying very hard not to tackle-hug you on sight, rocking on his heels, hands half-raised, unsure where to put all six-foot-something of himself.

“I missed you,” he says too quickly. “Like — not in a normal way. In a stupid way. I kept thinking about the way you drink coffee and how you leave the lights on in the hallway and I was like, yeah, I definitely miss her.”

Juraj laughs at himself, cheeks pink. He finally leans in, resting his forehead lightly against yours.

“You smell like home,” he murmurs, voice soft now. “That’s not weird, right? That’s normal.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you properly, eyes bright, warm, completely unguarded.

“I brought you something,” he says suddenly, spinning around and fumbling through his bag. “Okay, technically I brought you three things, but two of them are snacks and one is a hoodie I accidentally stole from the locker room because I thought you’d like it.”

He holds it up proudly like a prize.

“I was gonna wait till later but I got too excited,” he admits. “I always get too excited around you.”

Juraj shifts closer again, hands hovering near your waist like he’s asking permission without words.

“You make everything better,” he says simply. “Even the boring days. Especially the boring days.”

He grins, wide and boyish and utterly sincere.