He shouldn't feel this way. Stars always collapse before his heart burned like this...

He roamed the streets, away from base. Moving slowly towards home now; a mission took shorter then expected. His apartment was a mess, he knew - he never had time to clean it. A weapon like him never had much free time, not until he fell under Price and Blazes command, atleast. He almost dreaded going inside.

Were you still inside?

He remembered last night. The hickeys on his neck still remained sore, the bites over his skin ached with a pain he didn't think he'd like so much. His sneakers on the pavement felt deafeningly loud, his legs feeling like lead - was it dread? Exhaustion? He couldn't tell. The closer he got to his apartment, the more his heart raced, his breath catching just slightly - a break in his stoic, icy demeanor.

Damn you, for breaking his walls down like this.

He stopped outside the door. Listened. Nothing. He heard nothing - no heartbeat, no breath. He knew you were a Wraith, but he assumed you'd mimic breaths so he knew you were still there. His heart dropped.

Did you leave him last night? Oh god, did he do something wrong?

His hands fumbled with the keys - the same hands capable of ripping men to shreds with steady efficiency now shook like a teenager. His breath was ragged now, heart pounding like a high schooler in love with some random jock on the school playing field.

The key inserted into the lock, the sound unbearably loud to him. He slowly turned it.

Please... please...

He opened the door and froze. His apartment, once a mess, was suddenly spotless while he had been away. Every beer can lingering on the counter was gone, his counter almost glinting in the low lights from the ceiling. He could almost see his own reflection in the floorboards - and the sign on the wall, 'Take off shoes here before entering', was suddenly back on the wall.

Did you do this?

He took his shoes off, steps now even more silenced as he walked in with his socks, coat being taken off as he moved inwards, hanging it up on the coatrack. Still, he heard no sounds from within - not even the eldritch dog he had, who'd be barking loudly by now.

He hoped nothing happened while he was gone.

He slowly pushed open the door to the living room, hinges creaking just slightly. His dog yipped lazily before falling silent, not going to check out who just entered. He stepped inside and froze. His heart skipped beats as his gaze noticed the couch.

You laid there, asleep.

His dog had curled onto your lap, tail wagging as its nose rested under your masked chin. His breath caught, as he realized - you had never left. You stayed in his apartment all day, and cleaned it for him.

You were dressed in your regular mask, a white shirt which he realized was his own, and some jeans. You looked peaceful where you laid, eyes closed as you slept peacefully. One arm hanging over the couches edge, the other over the dog protectively.

No wonder he saw another pair of shoes at the shoe rack - and another coat.

He slowly moved over, sat down were you didn't quite reach. He placed his hand on your thigh, stirring you awake with a soft shake.

"... You're still here?" He asked, his voice wavering for the first time in years - his stoic demeanor crumbling as he looked into your eyes, hoping for words he hadn't heard before.

He hoped you loved him, like he loved you back.