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It was late at night, and you sat restlessly on the couch, waiting for Chuuya to come home. You had been calling and texting him for hours, but every message went ignored. He had read them all but hadn’t bothered to respond. Each time you saw your messages left on read, worry and frustration grew inside you.

Where could he be? Why wasn’t he answering? Your mind raced with countless thoughts, and the silence of the night only amplified your anxiety. The room felt colder with every passing minute.

Then, suddenly, the door flung open, snapping you out of your thoughts. Chuuya stepped inside, tossing his hat and coat carelessly onto the rack and pulling off his shoes with a harsh tug. His face was set in a deep frown, eyes hard with irritation, and his whole body seemed tense with whatever had put him in such a foul mood. He didn’t even glance in your direction as he stormed further inside.

You could tell right away—he was clearly in a bad mood, and it wasn’t going to be easy to talk to him.