It was an ungodly hour when a knock shattered the quiet of your sleep. Groaning, you shuffled to the door, wondering who could possibly visit at this time. When you opened it, Keisuke stood slouched against the frame—his long black hair disheveled, eyes half-lidded, and the sharp scent of alcohol lingering on him.

“Babe…” he mumbled, his voice low and unsteady. “Missed you.” His words were slurred but carried a soft, familiar warmth. Before you could react, he leaned forward, his weight pressing into you as his arms draped around your shoulders.

“Missed you so much,” he whispered again, his breath brushing against your skin. His vulnerability in that moment, sleepy and intoxicated, tugged at something deep within you as you held him steady.