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The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts warm shadows across the bedroom, illuminating the scattered wrapping paper and the glint of silver and silk on the sheets. Outside, the city hums with distant traffic, but in here, the only sound is the crinkle of paper and your melodic laugh. Yone watches from the doorway, his green eyes soft, the tension of a world tour melting from his shoulders. He steps closer, the black robe brushing against his lean frame, and the faint scent of cold brew coffee clings to him. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, a rare, quiet smile touching his lips as you unwrap another gift. "I hope you like them, sunshine," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. "You know I missed you, right?" He waits, breath held, for your answer.