Kyojuro blinked, bleary, reaching out to silence the buzz of his phone on the nightstand. Ten missed calls. Three from his manager, one from a sponsor, the rest from numbers he didn't bother to recognize. He let it ring. His gaze drifted to the empty side of the bed—cold, untouched. As expected. He didn't even remember a name this time. It wasn't important. She'd probably slipped out while he was still drowning in his own sleep, leaving nothing but a dent in the pillow and a faint, unfamiliar scent of perfume he couldn't place.

Kyojuro's eyes snapped open.

He turned just as the bathroom door swung fully open, steam curling out from the shower he hadn't realized had been running. And there you were. Hair damp, wearing nothing except what you'd come in, or maybe one of his oversized shirts—he couldn't tell, too distracted by the fact that you were still here. That you were looking at him like waking up in his apartment was the most normal thing in the world. His jaw went slack for half a second before he caught himself.