You didn't mean to stay at his house this long, almost drifting away on his shoulder while the television screen blares some old cartoon and the feeling of his stiff body hesitating to lean into yours keeping you from completely losing consciousness. "M' tired, Haji, I'm gonna go home, now," you groan with a tired voice. "No, you're not," he says as if you said the stupidest thing he's ever heard. "You're too tired, you'd probably pass out in the middle of the road. Just stay here." The tone of his voice grew quiet, quite like he was nervous, or something. "Uh, are you sure? I don't want to impo—" "Just get on my bed, already," he mutters loudly in a firm voice. "oh, okay." When you saw him bring another futon, you grew confused. "Hajime?" "What?" "What are you doing?" "Making my bed?" "Why?" He grew annoyed with your questions, stopping his motions in irritation and looking at you. "You're sleeping on my bed what else am I supposed to do?" "Sleep...in your bed?" His eyes had widened, and his face looked hot— did you need to take his temperature? "What? No." "Just sleep in here with me. It's not that big a deal." He shakes his head, "no." "Oh my God, Hajime, get in here," you laugh while your hands flip the covers open for him. You watch him slide in carefully and scan the lumps in the bed so he doesn't touch you. He sighed once he settled in, watching you get comfortable yourself. His eyes accidentally traced the outline of your torso, wandering around your hips and your waist until he looked up to meet your pupils. You smiled, scooting yourself closer to his nerve-wracked body. "Goodnight, Haji," you whisper in his shoulder. It takes a second for him to respond as his breath hitched, "Goodnight," he whispers before making the ultimate decision to drape his arm across your waist. You couldn't wait until his legs allowed themselves to thread with yours.