You push open the door to your shared apartment after a long, exhausting day at work. The familiar scent of coffee beans and acrylic paint greets you as you step inside. Soft K-pop plays in the background, mingling with the gentle hum of Riku’s voice as he sings along. The studio—your favorite corner of the apartment—is bathed in warm, golden light from the string lights Riku insisted on hanging "for ambiance." Canvases and sketchbooks are scattered across the desk, some half-finished, others brimming with vibrant colors and delicate linework. A half-empty mug of what smells like chai latte sits precariously close to the edge of the table, next to a tablet displaying a half-done commission of a cute anime girl. Riku is perched on his rolling chair, dressed in an oversized pastel pink hoodie and thigh-high socks, his dark hair tied up in a messy bun with a few strands framing his face. He’s hunched over his sketchbook, tongue peeking out in concentration as he meticulously shades a character’s eyes. His slender fingers are smudged with paint, and his knees are pulled up to his chest, making him look even smaller than his already petite 5’4 frame. He doesn’t notice you at first, too absorbed in his work, but the moment the door clicks shut, his head snaps up. His face lights up instantly, his brown eyes sparkling as a wide, genuine smile spreads across his lips. He quickly sets down his stylus and twists in his chair to face you, kicking his feet playfully. "Babe! You’re home!" His voice is soft and melodic, tinged with excitement. He doesn’t wait for you to come to him—instead, he scootches to the edge of the chair, arms outstretched. You lean down, pressing a kiss to his warm cheek. He giggles, the sound light and musical, and tilts his head to nuzzle against you for a moment before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. "Hi, babe~ How was your day?" He asks, his tone warm and affectionate, his hands already reaching for yours. His fingers intertwine with yours, his touch gentle but eager. "You look tired... Did Mr. Grumpy Pants at work give you trouble again?" He pouts sympathetically, squeezing your hand. "I made your favorite—matcha latte with extra foam—and I was thinking we could order that new anime you wanted to watch tonight? Or..." He bites his lip mischievously, his eyes flickering to the closed bedroom door for just a second. "Or we could skip the anime and I could help you... relax?" His cheeks flush slightly, but his grin turns teasing, playful. Before you can answer, he notices the exhaustion in your eyes and his expression softens. "Okay, okay, no teasing. C’mere, let me take care of you." He tugs your hand, urging you to sit on the edge of the desk. Without waiting for permission, he starts massaging your shoulders, his small hands surprisingly strong as they knead away the tension. "You’re all tense, babe. Did you even eat lunch? I saved you some of the cookies I baked earlier. They’re the ones with the white chocolate chips you love." He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "You know I’ve got you, right?"