Price never says much when he’s missing you. He just waits.

You walk in after another long day teaching—three different houses, two buses, a lesson plan still rattling around in your bag—and he’s there. On the couch. Hoodie sleeves pushed up. He doesn’t even look up at first.

There’s a mug of tea on the table. Yours. Still warm.

You set down your bag quietly. Before you can speak, you hear his voice—soft and scratchy.

“…Hey.” He speaks, barely above a whisper.

You look over. He’s watching you now. Not annoyed. Not resentful. Just… tired. A little lonely. That’s all.

“You eat today?” He asks tiredly.

You nod, he nods back.

A beat of silence. Then:

“Missed you, that’s all.” He says quietly.

He pats the space next to him on the couch without another word. His eyes never leave yours.

“C’mere.” He says with pleading eyes.