The air carried a faint warmth, touched by the dry crispness of a summer evening. The glow of the setting sun spilt through the tall windows of the terminal, casting long, dappled shadows on the polished floor. The hum of engines blended with the soft clatter of luggage wheels and low conversations, a quiet rhythm that felt both expectant and unhurried. Outside, the city stretched in the distance, steady and unchanging, as if waiting to welcome its newest arrival.

After the long flight, exhausted Sean moved on autopilot through border control and immigration, his mind only briefly pausing to wonder how Jay managed the back-and-forth flights and still had the energy to spend time with him. Finally, he collected his luggage – a single large suitcase and a well-worn backpack holding everything he owned. It felt surreal how his life could be condensed into so little.

But the moment he stepped through the arrival gates, all of it faded. The noise and motion of the terminal dissolved as his gaze met the brown eyes he loved so much – eyes full of contradictions, cold and indifferent on the surface, yet impossibly soft beneath. In that instant, every ounce of exhaustion vanished, replaced by an unshakable certainty that he was exactly where he was meant to be.

Jay stood in the arrivals area, hands in his pockets, his posture deceptively composed. The crowd shifted around him, accompanied by a bustling noise, but it all blurred into background static, meaningless compared to the weight of his thoughts. His gaze held a hint of anticipation with faint unease coiling underneath it.

Sean's presence filled the voids Jay had carried for so long, the ones that felt like they had always been there. Waking up with Sean always came with a pull, his arms drawing him closer and offering incredible comfort. Their conversations, more unguarded and open, had a way of breaking through Jay's detachment, while Sean's touch and smoky, spiced scent made the ever-present emptiness seem a little less permanent. In Bangkok, he felt alive and present, even if he struggled.

But when Jay returned to London, the numbness hit harder than he had expected, rushing back to fill the spaces Sean had left behind. The muted and distant city felt like a reflection of his life, a carefully controlled existence. His pristine and immaculate penthouse was an extension of that world, expansive yet cold, offering nothing but a hollow sense of order. The walls that slowly started to crumble snapped back into place, stronger than ever, trapping him inside a solitude he had once accepted as unchangeable. Unwittingly, he found himself wondering... if Sean knew, would he even want to be a part of it?

Suddenly, his thoughts vanished as his gaze locked on the only person who truly commanded his undivided attention. His expression softened so subtly it was almost imperceptible. A heartbeat later, the faint warmth of Sean's lips against his brought an unmistakable sense of completeness, like a gentle tug pulling him out of the void. The kiss was unhurried, grounding in its simplicity, not a declaration but a natural reminder of something constant.

"I'm here," Sean's voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "Just focus on the next minute... nothing else matters."

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but then he smiled faintly and sunk into Sean's arms, letting the sensation wash over him. He was tired, but in that fleeting moment, Jay realised that Sean understood him better than anyone else, catching him off guard in a way that wasn't threatening, more like something he hadn't expected yet somehow needed.

"Missed you," he murmured, burying his face in the crook of Sean's neck.

Sean smiled and kissed the top of his head. "Mhm, me too."

His fingers instinctively intertwined with Sean's, and he gently tugged him towards the exit. "Let's get you home."

Sean gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm already home."

Jay couldn't quite figure out how Sean always managed to reach him despite all these things that seemed to suffocate him. It made his life a little less desolate, tilting the balance towards something Jay didn't even know he wanted before meeting him. And somehow, Sean slowly taught him what the word home truly meant.

"You know... it feels a bit surreal you are here."

"Yeah, it does," Sean agreed as they walked outside. He shivered, glancing at Jay, who seemed unfazed in jeans and a light three-quarter-sleeved t-shirt. "God, it's freezing."

"You think this is cold?" Jay flashed him a cheeky smile. "This is a typical summer night."

Sean blinked in disbelief. "Seriously?!"

"Oh, how tables have turned," Jay chirped, not forgetting his suffering in Bangkok's heat. "How are you going to survive the winter?"

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Jay shrugged, his cheeky smile unwavering. "Maybe?"

Sean rolled his eyes and dug out the hoodie from his backpack while Jay grabbed their taxi. The drive was quiet, with the landscape slipping past in soft streaks of light. Sean's tiredness soon caught up with him, and his head dropped onto Jay's shoulder as he dozed off. Jay glanced down and smiled, running his fingers through Sean's short, textured hair in soothing, absentminded strokes. Having Sean so close brought him a fragile kind of peace, he grew to appreciate.

After nearly an hour-long drive, the taxi stopped in front of a high-end apartment building, and Jay gently nudged him awake.

Sean stirred, blinking slowly as he lifted his head from Jay's shoulder. "Huh? I fell asleep?" he mumbled drowsily, looking momentarily disoriented at his surroundings.

"Mhm," Jay hummed, stepping out of the car and taking Sean's suitcase from the driver. "When we were still on the motorway."

Sean shot him an apologetic smile and looked up at the building, a striking blend of Edwardian and Georgian architecture with intricate stonework and expansive windows. The eight-story structure stood imposingly, symbolising the area's affluence. It was vastly different from the sleek, modern developments of Bangkok, where glass and steel dominated the skyline.

The lobby was elegant, with marble floors, soft lighting, and polished wood accents. The concierge, impeccably dressed, looked up from behind the desk. "Good evening, Mr Anderson... and Mr Liu, I presume?" he said, his smile polite and professional. "I trust you had a pleasant flight, sir?"

Sean was slightly taken aback by the concierge's politeness, a sharp contrast to the indifference he had encountered in Bangkok when visiting Jay. This felt more genuine, as though he truly belonged here. "Yes, thank you."

"I'm pleased to hear it, sir," the concierge responded smoothly. "If you would like, Mr Anderson, we can arrange to register Mr Liu's fingerprint for access at a time that suits you both... or, if it's convenient, we could do it now."

Jay looked at Sean, leaving the choice to him. "It will take only a few minutes."

The process was swift, and in no time, they were in the lift, heading to the top floor, entirely occupied by what became now their penthouse.

Just a few steps in, Sean paused, stunned by the sight that made even the opulence of Jay's apartment in Bangkok feel modest in comparison. The elegance was undeniable – spacious, sophisticated, and modern, with every detail radiating timeless luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed London's skyline, while rich wood floors and understated furnishings added to the polished appeal. But beneath the perfection lay an unsettling stillness.

Sean couldn't help but think it felt hollow, untouched by Jay's presence. The emptiness lingered in every corner, leaving nothing behind but an oppressive silence. It wasn't just a lack of warmth or personality – it was a vast and unyielding void closing in with an almost suffocating weight. For Sean, it wasn't a home but a meticulously crafted cage, expansive and beautiful, but one that consumed everything – especially Jay. Still, what hit him the most was how unbothered by it Jay was, as if this was his norm. And for the first time since they met, Sean fully realised how painfully true it was.

Jay turned to ask what Sean wanted for dinner, only to be pulled into a firm embrace, the kind that felt as if Sean was afraid to let him go. It caught him entirely off guard, and he involuntarily stiffened with a confused look on his face.

"Not that I'm complaining," Jay said, relaxing into Sean's touch. "But what was that for?"

Sean shrugged, knowing it wasn't the right time to bring this up. "No reason."

Jay wasn't entirely convinced but decided to let it go. "Do you want me to show you around or have dinner first?"

"Which option involves you naked?"

Jay's eyebrow quirked slightly, clearly entertaining the idea. "We could check out the bed, the shower, or literally anywhere else you feel like."

He barely registered the wall at his back before Sean's lips crashed against his. There was no hesitation, no prelude, just raw, unrestrained need that set his pulse racing. The kiss was fierce and almost consuming as if Sean had been holding back for too long and finally letting the dam break. And he simply responded, gripping Sean's waist and pulling him closer, naturally deepening their kiss.

"Which way is the bed?" Sean asked between kisses, slowly moving down Jay's neck.

Jay tilted his head a bit, giving him better access, half convinced hallway would do, but he couldn't say no to him... at least not in these little things. "Feeling traditional?"

"There is nothing traditional in what I'm going to do to you."

"Oh?"

Sean's eyes narrowed slightly, and before Jay could react, he was lifted with ease. Instinctively, he wrapped his legs around Sean's hips and couldn't help but smile into the kiss. Sean had a habit of taking full advantage of him being nearly twenty pounds lighter, effortlessly carrying him in heated moments like this. Jay wouldn't admit it openly, but he actually enjoyed it.

"So, which way?"

"Left hallway... door... at the end..." Jay breathed out between deep kisses.

Sean paused for a brief moment, taking in the room he had only caught glimpses of during their video calls. The design was undeniably elegant, with black furniture and dark grey walls blending seamlessly with the charcoal oak floors. It felt slightly more personal than the rest of the penthouse he had seen, yet if Sean didn't already know, he might not have guessed it was Jay's bedroom. Still, he pushed the thought aside as they collapsed onto the bed.

"Your bed is massive," Sean remarked with a hint of amusement as he realised they could sleep in any direction and still have space to spare.

Jay smiled, then flipped them over and pinned him to the mattress. "You mean our bed."

Sean looked at him with slight surprise, unsure what to say.

"Let me make one thing very clear to you, Sean," he started seriously. "The moment you decided to move in here, all of this became as much yours as it is mine. If you don't like something, feel free to change it how it suits you. You don't need anyone's permission."

Sean's gaze softened, and his fingers gently brushed over Jay's jaw, pulling him in for a tender kiss. He didn't know what to say, so he let the kiss speak for him – slow and gentle but showing how much it meant that Jay saw their relationship as equal partnership.

"Even if I will decide to add a splash of colour everywhere?" Sean teased.

Jay froze for a bit but then nodded.

Sean smiled sadly and kissed him again. "You really don't pay much attention to the places you live in, do you? As long as the colour palette is toned down, it's fine."

"Pretty much, yes... but do you really want to discuss this now?" Jay asked, and knowing how much Sean liked watching him shirtless, he pulled his t-shirt off over his head.

It felt wrong to brush him off like this, but how could Jay explain that he didn't understand the concept of home. His dorm room was nothing more than a representation of family expectations he had to fulfil. His Cambridge apartment hadn't been any different – a fleeting stage, but one that reinforced a path long chosen for him. This penthouse was just another extension of that. It didn't matter to him, nor did it bother him. But then he met Sean. A person who became his home. And so, the penthouse still didn't matter. If Sean wanted to change it, Jay would simply let it happen.

The kitchen was bathed in the soft glow of the pendant lights reflecting off the polished marble floors. The sleek countertops and pristine cabinetry added to a subtle elegance, but the true heart of the room was the enticing aroma of dandan noodles wafting through the air. The atmosphere was relaxed, almost languid, as the late evening settled in, wrapping the space in a playful intimacy.

Sean was leaning on the kitchen island, watching Jay finish making their dinner when his gaze drifted to glass-enclosed storage with meticulously arranged bottles of wine and whisky. "That's a very impressive collection."

"Knock yourself out," Jay chuckled, turning around with two bowls of noodles. "Here or dining table?"

"Where do you usually have your dinner?"

"Mostly here while working, sometimes in the office... wherever it's more convenient," he responded, realising they had a clean slate to work out their habits as a couple living together. "But now it's not so much about convenience, isn't it?"

Sean's gaze drifted to the glass table with its black steel frame, adorned only by a minimalist arrangement of white orchids. Positioned near the floor-to-ceiling windows, it offered a stunning view of London's nightscape.

"No, it's not," Sean agreed, grabbing chopsticks and two glasses of water.

They settled at the table, and as Jay placed the bowl in front of Sean, the rich aroma immediately wafted up, enveloping his senses. A tantalising mix of roasted chilli oil, fermented black beans, and numbing Sichuan peppercorns. It was a burst of colour: the deep red sheen of the sauce pooled beneath perfectly cooked wheat noodles, crowned by minced pork glistening with caramelised edges. Bright green slivers of spring onion and a sprinkling of crushed peanuts added a fresh, earthy contrast.

Sean twirled the noodles with his chopsticks, and as he took the first bite, the heat spread across his tongue, a pleasant tingle from the peppercorns balancing the umami depth of the sauce. It was bold, unapologetic, just as he loved it.

"You have no idea how much I missed your cooking," Sean said, savouring his meal.

Jay rested his chin on the palm of his hand and looked at him with a playful smile. "And here I was thinking you missed me."

Sean smirked, pausing with his chopsticks mid-air. "Oh, I did miss you... in more ways than one," he said, letting the words hang in the air before he took a bite of the noodles. "But after thoroughly checking out the bed... and shower... I would say I'm recharged for now, but we both know it won't last long."

"Of course... it would be naïve to think otherwise."

"But seriously, just knowing there is no flight to catch and you won't be gone in a day or two puts things into a completely different perspective," Sean said, feeling even more confident about his decision to move together. "I guess it's just nice to know that when I wake up, you will actually be there."

Jay's gaze softened, and he set his chopsticks down, momentarily lost in thought. He had never really understood the kind of certainty Sean was describing – the feeling of having someone there every morning, as if that sense of permanence was something he could take for granted. Everything had always been transient and fleeting for him, but not anymore.

"Now, my only worry is if you are in your 'I will fucking kill you mood' or already in a harmless one, and it's safe to wake you up."

Sean's teasing voice brought him back and Jay sighed with exasperation. "You are impossible."

"I know, it's part of my charm," Sean smiled shamelessly.

Jay sighed again, wondering what he had gotten himself into, but he wouldn't change it for the world. It was strange how quickly Sean's presence had shifted the atmosphere, making the vast, impersonal expanse feel alive in a way he hadn't thought possible. After all, Jay didn't realise how heavy the silence was until it wasn't there anymore.

Following the habit they had established in Bangkok, Sean cleaned up after dinner, using it as an opportunity to familiarise himself with the kitchen, despite Jay's insistence it wasn't necessary, as he would have to lose his mind to let him anywhere near the hob.

Sean glared at him, purposefully leaning by the hob with his arms crossed. "Didn't you say a few hours ago that I don't need anyone's permission?"

"This is different."

"How so?" Sean questioned.

Jay sighed with resignation. "It's pure self-preservation instinct."

"I'm astonished at how little faith you have in my cooking skills," Sean huffed, appearing utterly wronged.

"It has nothing to do with faith," Jay shrugged. "I simply happen to remember your attempt at my life with what was supposed to be a congee."

Sean rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You are literally the worst."

"I know," Jay grinned, but then gently pulled him closer and kissed him. "Do you still want me to show you around, or too tired?"

There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, reminding him how perceptive Jay was and how difficult it was to hide things from him. Sean could feel tiredness creeping back in, but he still felt naturally energised as his body aligned with the equivalent of his wake-up habit.

"I'm fine," Sean said, curious if he could find any traces of Jay's life here.

"Sure?"

Sean nodded. "I would normally wake up for our call around this time, so I guess it keeps me going."

"We can relax in bed and watch a film until you fall asleep."

His eyebrow quirked questioningly. "No work?"

Jay shook his head. "I took three weeks off," he responded as if it was the most natural thing, then chuckled at Sean's bewildered expression. "Don't tell me you thought I would just leave you here while I went to work."

Now Sean was left utterly speechless, unable to believe Jay had put aside his work for so long for him. "I didn't think it was possible to love you more than I already do, but apparently, I was wrong," he said softly, then kissed him with incredible tenderness.

The tour around the penthouse was more fun than any of them expected, but then, between their banter and their kisses, it wasn't that surprising. It also made everything less daunting, falling into the background of their relationship. But still, Sean didn't expect Jay to have a whole cinema room, with a screen taking the entire wall and plush sitting.

Sean smiled when they walked into Jay's office. He recognised it as Jay often took their calls here, but this was the first time he saw the whole room. Spacious, sophisticated, yet minimalistic, following the usual colour palette – grey, white and black – broken up only by a couple of plants. Then, to his surprise, Jay opened the door on the other side of the hallway, revealing the same size room set up as another office with elegant furniture only needing personal touches.

"This one is yours."

Sean blinked twice, looking at the room nearly twice the size of his whole loft at Izzy's garage, purely designated as his place to study and later work. "Are you sure about this?" he asked finally, trying to mask persistently returning discomfort.

Jay pushed himself from the doorframe and hugged Sean from behind, resting his chin on Sean's shoulder. "Yes, I don't need it, but you could use your own space."

It wasn't something Sean considered while making his decision. As much as they loved each other and enjoyed spending time together, they also needed the opportunity to withdraw into their own personal spaces. It was a thoughtful gesture on Jay's part and an expression of respect for his privacy, which Sean genuinely appreciated.

After a quick pass by the guest bedrooms, they arrived at the last room. The climbing wall took full advantage of the high ceiling, stretching across one side with a dramatic overhang that curved over the ceiling before descending to the far side of the gym.

"You know," Sean started, shifting his gaze towards him. "This is the only room that actually feels like you."

Jay looked at him, confused.

Sean pulled him closer and kissed the top of his head. "Is there a reason why, after a few years, there is no trace of you living here?"

He wasn't surprised by his question. After all, his friends always said the same thing. It became a constant, the same as his response. "Dunno," Jay shrugged. "Too busy with work to pay attention to it, I guess."

Sean's eyebrows furrowed worriedly as he subconsciously hugged him tighter, then proposed carefully. "Do you mind if we make it more us?

Jay shook his head, unaware that this small, instinctive and fleeting gesture would mark the beginning of something beyond his imagination.