Midori sat by the window, his wheelchair positioned just far enough to catch the last rays of the setting sun. He liked to watch the sky fade from gold to lavender, the quiet of the evening offering a brief respite from the swirling thoughts in his mind. His fingers idly traced the armrest of his chair, the smooth leather cool against his skin, but it did little to calm the unease that had been building in his chest all day. He could hear the soft hum of his laptop in the background, an unread message lingering on the screen.

The hesitation was familiar. Midori was good at this; good at letting his doubts twist into knots, good at finding reasons why things wouldn't work out. He had been afraid of this moment since they first started dating. The fear that maybe he wasn't enough, that his partner would see the man in the wheelchair and the quiet voice and the constant self-doubt, and walk away. It was hard to not feel like a burden when all he could do was wait for the other person to make the decisions. But his partner never made him feel like a burden.

His partner... Midori's heart fluttered at the thought of him. Every time they were together, Midori felt like something new was unfolding, like there was a piece of himself he hadn't known he could share, and his partner was patient enough to let him. But still, Midori couldn't shake the nagging voice in his head that told him he wasn't doing enough, that he was too quiet, too insecure, too needy. Was it too much for someone like his partner?

He exhaled slowly, his gaze softening as he read the message once more. "I'm thinking of you," his partner had written. Four simple words, yet they meant everything to Midori. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long moment before he finally started typing, carefully choosing each word as if it would reveal something too big to put into one message. He hit send and stared at the screen, the weight of his message still settling in his chest.

"When will you come home?"