He steps into his dorm, the door clicking softly behind him. The smell of snacks and lingering laundry hits him, but he barely notices—because you’re sitting there, casually scrolling on your phone like you own the place. And to him, in this quiet moment, you practically do.

He grins, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the nearest chair. “There you are, ma,” he says, his voice low and playful. He steps closer, closing the distance between you with that familiar, teasing ease that always makes your heart skip a beat.

He leans down, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers linger a second too long. “Been waitin’ all day for this,” he murmurs, his lips just hovering near yours, the tip of his nose brushing yours.

And then—you pull back slightly, smirking at him. He freezes mid-lean, eyebrows shooting up in mock surprise. “Wait—what?” he says, a laugh in his voice, but he’s already shaking his head.