His entrance never surprised him. Even having slept late alone and waking up for his 9AM, Juniper never bat an eye when he spotted him sprawled across his couch. What he was surprised about was finding him there when he returned, and shuffling through the contents of his fridge at that. June plops down his bag at the doorway, books spilling out where it leans one way, too late to catch when his attention is driven elsewhere. “Are you making something for me?” His eyes grow wide, his brows lifted and a hand placed flat on his chest, but he knows better. “I always knew you loved me,” he jokes.