"Wait you've never stayed over at someone else's place before?"
Haruki looked up from his textbook, brows furrowed, pen frozen mid-scribble. "That's not true."
Miyako tilted her head, leaning across the low table with a teasing smirk. "Your uncle doesn't count. I mean someone your age. Someone like… me."
He hesitated. "...No."
She lit up. "Then congratulations. Tonight's your first co-ed sleepover."
He blinked. "I already live with you."
"Yeah, but this is different." She poked his forehead gently. "This isn't 'we share space because of dumb fake-marriage contracts.' This is intentional. Voluntary. Romantic with a capital maybe."
Haruki closed his textbook with exaggerated calm. "And the difference is...?"
"We're doing face masks. Watching horror movies. Sharing snacks. And you, my emotionally constipated husband, are sleeping beside me without a barrier pillow tonight."
Haruki stiffened. "...No pillow?"
She wiggled her eyebrows. "Pillow's on vacation."
His ears turned pink as he avoided her gaze. "That's... reckless."
"Admit it you're scared of catching feelings."
He met her gaze, something unreadable flickering in his violet eyes. "Too late."
She stilled.
The sleepover officially began with Miyako raiding the kitchen like a raccoon with a mission.
She returned minutes later, balancing a tray overflowing with junk food chips, candy, two cans of soda, and enough microwave popcorn to feed a study group.
Haruki stared, legs folded on the floor as he glanced between the tray and her triumphant grin. "We're two people."
"We're two emotionally complicated people with unresolved sexual tension," she said, plopping down beside him. "Eat. It's part of the healing."
He choked on a laugh. "That's not how therapy works."
"Shut up and take the gummies."
The horror movie began with an eerie violin score and immediate poor decision-making by its characters.
Ten minutes in, Miyako had abandoned her popcorn, buried her face in Haruki's shoulder, and latched onto his arm like a terrified koala.
"You're not even watching it," he said, amused.
"Because it's cursed!" she hissed. "Who walks into the woods, finds a dusty mirror, and says, 'Let's summon something'?!"
"You picked this movie."
She clutched his sleeve tighter. "I make terrible choices, okay?!"
Haruki gave a rare, soft chuckle. "Yeah. I know."
She peeked up at him, pouty. "You like that about me?"
He turned his head toward her, face barely inches away. "You make life louder. Brighter. Even when it's... screaming and covered in blood."
Her breath caught. Her cheeks flamed.
She ducked back into his shoulder with a muffled, "Shut up before I fall harder."
Later, they stood brushing their teeth side by side, stealing glances in the mirror like awkward teenagers.
Miyako spit, wiped her mouth, then leaned on the counter. "So... bed."
Haruki nodded slowly. "Bed."
When they entered the room, it felt different. The air heavier. The night quieter.
No barrier pillow.
No walls of sarcasm or teasing.
Just one bed. One blanket. Two people who hadn't admitted everything, but felt everything.
They lay there, backs to each other at first, eyes on the ceiling.
For a while, silence sat between them like a third presence.
Then, quietly
"Haruki," she whispered.
His voice was low. "Yeah?"
"If I turned around right now… what would happen?"
He swallowed. "I don't know. What do you want to happen?"
She didn't speak.
She turned.
Rolled over slowly, facing him in the shadows, the city lights spilling through the blinds casting soft lines across her face.
"I want to kiss you," she whispered.
His eyes searched hers.
Then, without overthinking, without waiting for the perfect line or cue
He leaned in.
And kissed her.
It wasn't dramatic.
No fireworks. No swelling music.
Just warmth.
His lips against hers, unsure at first then certain.
Her hand gripped the front of his shirt, knuckles white.
His thumb brushed her cheek like it was sacred.
They lingered in that kiss like it was a secret they didn't want to end.
And when they finally pulled away, breath mingling in the silence, neither said a word.
There were no rules for this part.
No playbook.
Just heartbeats.
And quiet smiles in the dark.