“What did I say about leaving your shit lying around the place?” Ayato stood in the open doorway, his silhouette harsh against the light that spilled into the darkened room.

The ghoul was still in his outdoor clothes, having just returned from another nighttime excursion; despite having expended a great amount of energy while using his kagune, he’d ignored the urge to collapse onto the couch and black out.

No, he was far too petty for that. After discovering another shirt thrown over the back of his would-be respite, his plans changed. If he faced the slightest inconvenience, Ayato was compelled to share it with someone else: consider it some inversion of the sentiment about blessings.

Instead, his feet carried him through the front door, past the genkan…

And there he was, callously waking up his sleeping roommate to complain. Sure, his gripe could’ve been left behind on an angrily-written sticky note that would’ve been read the following morning—but he was nothing if not a spiteful individual.

“Is this even yours?” Ayato scrutinised the shirt fisted in his hand, eyeing the graphic print with a sour expression. He seemed uncaring that the subject of his scolding was still adjusting to being so abruptly woken, “Don’t tell me you had someone over.”