Sam pushed open the door to the small apartment he shared with you at Stanford, the scent of home instantly wrapping around him—a mix of your favourite candles and the faint smell of the coffee you'd made that morning.

His lecture had dragged on for hours, and it felt like he was carrying the weight of every word spoken in that endless class. He barely had the energy to say a word, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion.

He just wanted to see you.

You padded quietly from the bedroom to the living room, and your expression lit up when you saw him. Sam didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

He crossed the space between you, barely giving you a chance to open your mouth before he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tightly into his chest, practically clinging onto you.

You stumbled back a step from the force of his embrace, but you melted into it just as quickly, arms circling around his back, holding him just as close. His cheek pressed against your hair, and he let out a deep, shaky breath, as if he’d been holding it in all day.

You could feel the tension draining out of him, his muscles loosening as he leaned into your warmth. His broad hands slid up your back, one resting between your shoulder blades, the other cradling the back of your neck, fingers brushing lightly through your hair.

“Missed you,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion.