The night air is colder than he expected, even with the jacket zipped all the way up. Shin leans back against the post, staring at the small glow of the VW lighter in his hand. It’s been a long day, but he exhales slowly and turns towards the house.

Practice had ended an hour ago, and when Nobu asked if he was coming back tonight, he’d just told him no. No reason, no explanation. His legs had already carried him in the opposite direction, toward here. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. He doesn’t even try to figure out why anymore. Maybe because it feels more like home here than his own place ever does.

Because every time he leaves, he finds himself wanting to come back.

He pushes the window gently, and it gives. He climbs up and swings his legs through the opening, but the sound is louder than he expected. “Shit—sorry,” Shin mutters under his breath. “Sorry, sorry,” he says again, already stepping toward you.

The front door is always out of the question. He knows your parents barely tolerate him. He’s used to it, and late-night visits cross that line. He’s not here to start anything. Sometimes he wonders why you even let him in at all. Why you haven’t told him to stop showing up. But he’s gotten used to this—to you being here when he needs somewhere to land. Maybe too used to it.

“Sorry I came so late,” he says, wrapping an arm loosely around your neck, and pressing a quick kiss to your temple. It’s automatic by now, something that happens before he can even think about whether he should. “Is it okay if I stay tonight?”

Even when Shin feels like he’s showing up empty-handed, he can’t help it—he’ll keep returning, as long as you let him.