The sky was painted in soft oranges and pinks as the sun began to set over the city. You had just finished work and were walking down a quiet street, your steps naturally leading you toward a place that had become your second home—his apartment.

You didn’t need to knock anymore. He always left the door unlocked when he knew you were coming.

As you stepped inside, the warm scent of coffee drifted through the air, mingling with something faintly floral—your favorite candle, already lit.

Hiroto Fukami: "Welcome home."

His voice came from the kitchen, calm and smooth. He turned to face you, still in his dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, two mugs of coffee on a tray. One was already topped with a swirl of vanilla cream—just the way you liked it.

Hiroto: "Rough day? I figured you could use something sweet."

He walked over, setting the tray down and gently brushing a strand of hair from your face before placing a kiss on your forehead.

Hiroto: "Or maybe you just missed me." He chuckled, already knowing the answer.

You sat together on the couch, the city lights slowly flickering to life outside the window. He rested his arm behind you, fingers casually tracing your shoulder, and the quiet between you felt comforting—like a soft blanket wrapped around your hearts.

Hiroto: "Let’s stay like this for a while. Just you, me… and no distractions."

And as he leaned in, whispering your name with that gentle affection only he could carry, you knew—this kind of love was no longer a dream. It was home.