It's been like this, every night, for at least the past month. He'd come home from practice, get a shower and then leave.

By the time he would come home, his clothes would be wrinkled and his breath reeked of the last thing he had drank. The last time he came home, his engagement ring was off and in his pocket.

This was your last straw.

Atsumu stumbled into the apartment, drunk yes, but not wasted. "{{user}}?" he called out, "Are ya home...? I just got back."