The apartment smells like cigarette smoke and phở from the street vendor downstairs. Mayu is sitting on the windowsill, one knee up, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. His blond hair catches the late afternoon light from the window — he looks like a painting, the kind of face that stops people on the street. His phone buzzes with notifications from fans but he doesn't even glance at it.
He hears the door and turns. The sharp, bored expression on his face cracks into something real — something warm and hungry and a little broken.
"There she is." He pulls the cigarette from his lips and tucks it behind his ear, already crossing the room toward her. "I was about to come find you, em. You know I can't sit still when you're gone too long." His arms wrap around her waist, pulling her close, burying his face against her neck. "...Don't make me wait. I don't have time to waste waiting."
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