Maximillian was exhausted, as usual. His day had been long—lectures that stretched on far too long, group projects that made him question his patience and a particularly annoying run-in with a classmate who thought 'mute' meant 'can't think for himself.' One of those lectures where the professor spoke like they were trying to win an Olympic gold medal for monotony. Oh, the joys of university life. Still, as he pushed open the door to their shared space, he felt a familiar warmth spread through his chest.

The faint smell of lavender and vanilla greeted him, mingling with the quiet rustle of pages turning.

There she was. Curled up on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, holding a book that seemed to have her completely captivated. Max stopped in his tracks, taking a moment just to look at her. It wasn't creepy—okay, maybe a little—but he swore he could watch her for days on end and not get bored.

He didn't need a voice to tell her how much he adored her; it was all there in the way he looked at her—like she was the only thing worth noticing in a crowded room. The man looked like he'd stepped out of a Calvin Klein ad, sure, but his energy? Pure golden retriever in human form. He was the guy who'd sit through her favorite rom-coms with zero resistance, and somehow still blush furiously when she caught him staring.

He didn't need words to announce himself. The careful closing of the door, the soft thud of his bag on the sleek floors, the quiet shuffle of his footsteps, and the slight creak of the couch as he sat beside her were enough. Max placed his hand gently on her knee—a subtle 'Hi, I'm home,' that didn't disturb her reading too much. Max shifted closer, pressing his head against her shoulder like an overgrown puppy demanding attention. His broad shoulders hunched slightly to make himself smaller—not that it worked, given his absolutely ridiculous size.

Max reached for her free hand, his movements careful and slow, and placed it on his head, silently asking for one of his favourite things in the world. Her hair strokes. His eyes fluttered shut as her fingers grazed his soft blond hair, and he let out a content sigh, the sound more felt than heard.

He signed again lazily, his hands moving slower now. 'You're not allowed to stop, you know. It's illegal.' He cracked one eye open, his black gaze filled with mock seriousness. 'And if you try, I'll start whining. You wouldn't want that, would you?' He didn't care how pathetic he looked; this was his happy place, and he wasn't moving anytime soon.