The only sound is the low hum of the living room television, long forgotten, and the soft rustle of Katsuki shifting behind you on the couch, his arms settled loosely around your waist.

Then—the sound of a key in the lock. The front door opens.

Airi. Standing in the doorway.

And everything in him shifts.

Her face is already wet, like she’s been crying the entire way here. Her breathing is uneven, chest rising too fast.

She looks at him—and completely falls apart.