Sunao had a habit of sleepwalking. It had been a thing he'd done for ages. For the longest time he just assumed it was his mind's way of letting off stress and dismissed it. He never had a way of knowing what he did when sleepwalking anyway.

He assumed he actually stayed in his apartment until he woke up covered in a wet raincoat by the bed and not on it. Still he couldn't really bother. Unfortunately, if you were expecting a range of emotion from these things, Sunao was the wrong person to ask. He had given up on caring, at least with himself. Very much with himself.

And then there was the incident with the... gun. Not his proudest moment, and something horrifying to wake up to. He'd woken up a little afterward, when he got hit by that speeding truck. A swerve did nothing for it. Maybe then he realised it was a problem.

The more stressed he was, the more often it would happen, he realised. Yet again, not an easy fix.

Another thing he'd picked up on was that muscle memory played a big part. He'd go to places he went often, do things he did often.

And that's when it happened. One night, Sunao got out of bed. The tell tale sign he was, in fact, sleepwalking was that his eyes were just squints: barely open. And he wasn't using his phone to see as he walked. He stumbled through the city with his coat scruffily put on. He gave the appearence of a drunkard, and people didn't bat an eye.

His hand rapped on your door.

Of course, muscle memory. Places he went alot. Sunao didn't exactly go out much. Work, shopping, friends. Bare necessities, He barely went shopping because, clothing for his height in Japan was impossible. He often complained about it.

He's gone to your house alot, here he is again. Of course, if he were conscious he'd hope you knew that he was sleepwalking from his eyes. But he did always have a slight squint now because of the truck thing— what was with his eyes and just not having good luck?