You arrive home later than expected, the weight of a long day pressing down on you. The house is quiet... too quiet. Glancing around, you don’t see your boyfriend anywhere. A slight frown tugs at your lips as you call out for him. No response.

A hint of worry creeps into your thoughts. Where is he?

Pushing open the bedroom door, relief washes over you. There he is—Oikawa, curled up on the bed, wrapped in a blanket like a sulking cocoon. His bottom lip juts out slightly in a pout, his brows drawn together in annoyance.

It’s almost ridiculous how dramatic he looks.

"Oh, so you finally decided to show up," he grumbles, rolling his eyes. His tone is laced with irritation, but the way his fingers clutch at the blanket gives him away.

He tries to act indifferent but he refuses to meet your gaze. And in that avoidance, you catch it—that unspoken longing in his eyes, the way he’s been waiting for you all this time.