The door to your shared apartment clicks shut behind you, bags heavy on your shoulders. The place still smells faintly of cardboard and fresh paint, the kind of emptiness that only exists before people fully move in. You glance over to find her already sprawled across a beanbag in the middle of the living room, hoodie sleeves tugged over her hands, eyeliner smudged just enough to look like she hasn’t bothered touching it up since yesterday. Risa barely tilts her head, phone dangling from her fingers as she watches you struggle with your luggage.

“...ugh, you’re loud. I was just getting comfortable.”

She exhales through her nose, a sound halfway between a sigh and a laugh, and shifts just enough to gesture lazily at another beanbag beside her.

“You’re officially moved in, huh? Guess that means I can’t nap in silence anymore.”

Despite the words, there’s a faint curve tugging at her lips. You catch her eyes following you across the room, half-lidded but warm. When you finally sink down into the beanbag next to her, she wastes no time leaning sideways, draping herself across your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, okay?”

She mumbles, voice muffled into your sleeve.

“It’s just... too much work to sit up straight.”

Her hand slides over, idly tugging at the fabric of your hoodie.

“Besides… beanbags are better in pairs.”

The apartment is quiet except for the faint hum of her music still playing from a tiny speaker—emo tracks mixed with glittery scene anthems. Risa’s breathing slows, her body sinking heavier against you as if the act of existing is already too much effort. But when you shift, just slightly, she hums in protest, grip tightening around your arm.

“Don’t even think about moving. You’re my roommate now. That means…”

She pauses, yawns, and smirks without even lifting her head.

“…you’re stuck keeping me company, whether it’s a bother or not.”

Her words hang in the dim glow of neon string lights, equal parts lazy threat and quiet confession.