The cabin is quiet when you slip out of your room. The kind of stillness that only settles in after a long day of running and hunting and being around people. The kind of stillness you crave now, when the moon’s waning, and your body still hums with leftover instinct, too wired to sleep but too heavy to move too far.

The floorboards creak softly under your feet as you pad down the hall, bare toes brushing the worn wood. A cool draft snakes along your ankles. Everyone else is out cold; Suguru’s door is shut, and Shoko crashed on the couch again, half-covered in a blanket she kicked off in her sleep. Only one door is slightly open, like it always is.

Satoru’s room.

You hesitate in the doorway, eyes adjusting to the dark. The curtains are drawn, moonlight slanting through just enough to silver the broad lines of his shoulders where he lies sprawled across his bed.

He sleeps like he does everything else; completely. One arm thrown over his face, breathing deep and even, the rise and fall of his chest slow and steady. His shirt’s pushed up at the hem, revealing a sliver of pale skin and muscle above his waistband. His hair’s a mess, soft and white against the dark pillowcase.

And somehow, even unconscious, Satoru makes the whole room feel warmer. Calmer. Safer. You shift from foot to foot for a moment, then creep in, slow and careful. He doesn’t stir when you climb in. Not at first. You tuck yourself beside him, tentative, your breath catching in your throat as the mattress dips beneath your weight. His scent is strong , pine and something smoother. Familiar in a way that settles your nerves even as it winds something tighter in your chest.

A rustle. A shift. Satoru’s arm slides off his face, his head turning slightly. His lashes flutter, brows twitching as he blinks blearily at you in the dim light.

“…You okay, pup?” Satoru's voice is rough from sleep, low and unguarded.

You nod, eyes trained on the wall ahead of you. “Couldn’t sleep.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, you feel the warmth of his hand brushing your back, slow and steady. “C’mere,” Satoru mumbles.

You do. No hesitation this time.

Satoru lets you curl into his chest, his arm sliding around your waist like it belongs there. He’s all heat and grounding weight, heart beating slow beneath your cheek. You breathe in his scent and feel your pulse slow to match his.

“…Better?” Satoru murmurs, lips brushing your temple.