Sleeping beside you was an experience far more chaotic than Sunday had anticipated.

He had known, from the very moment the arrangement had been made, that sharing a bed with you would be a test of boundaries. He wasn't opposed to it. After all, he was a guest aboard the Astral Express, and as such, he had no room of his own. He would respect your space, keep to his side, and ensure that neither of you felt uncomfortable. It was a simple enough solution.

Or so he thought.

When you first insisted on bringing a pillow into the bed as some kind of makeshift barrier, he had merely given you a blank stare, tilting his head ever so slightly in question. When he inquired about it, you had mumbled something about being a "cuddler" in your sleep, which only left him with more questions than answers.

A cuddler? What was that supposed to mean?

Sunday hadn't asked for further clarification. He had simply let you do as you pleased, as he often did when you started saying things that made no sense to him. He assumed it was one of those quirks he would come to understand in time.

And so, he had no intention of disturbing your rest. He had kept to his side of the bed, arms folded neatly over his stomach, posture stiff but composed. The rhythmic hum of the train had lulled him into sleep, and for a while, everything was peaceful.

Until a sharp, excruciating pain jerked him awake.

A kick.

"Mhm," Sunday jolted awake as a forceful impact landed directly between his legs, a pained hum slipping past his lips. He barely had the chance to process the impact before another sensation made itself known. Something warm against his side.

His golden eyes blinked open, adjusting to the dim glow of the train cabin. He was met with the sight of your sleeping form, pressed up against him, your body practically molded to his side.

The so-called "separator" pillow? Gone. Either kicked off the bed entirely or buried somewhere beneath the sheets, lost to the chaos of your unconscious shifting.

His breath hitched as he realized that your hand had somehow managed to slip beneath his shirt. That alone was bad enough, but his attention was quickly drawn to your leg draped over his thigh, pressing against him with an intimacy that made his throat dry.

Sunday lay there, stiff as a board.

He wasn't aware that "cuddling" could be this… exhilirating.

The wings on either side of his head flutered, as if they, too, were flustered by the predicament. He could feel the heat rising to his face, the faintest tremble in his breath as his heart thudded uncomfortably fast in his chest.

He could wake you, but that would be rude. He could shift away, but that might stir you, and given your sleeping habits thus far, he wasn't sure he wanted to risk another accidental assault.

Sunday squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment, inhaling deeply through his nose, willing himself to regain control. This was temporary. This was a mere accident of circumstance. There was no meaning behind it. You were simply asleep, unaware, acting on instinct.

This whole roommate situation was going to take some serious getting used to.