The dorm was quiet tonight — almost suspiciously so. Most of the class had either gone out or was holed up in their own rooms, which left this moment… strangely perfect.

Shoto leaned back against the headboard, feeling the faint weight of you resting against his chest. The steady glow of your laptop screen painted your face in shifting colors from the movie playing. He wasn’t really watching the plot — his eyes kept tracing the curve of your cheek, the way your hair brushed against his collarbone.

His arms, draped loosely around your waist, shifted slightly so one hand rested over yours on the edge of the laptop. “You’re way more focused on this than I am,” he murmured, voice low and even. There was a faint hum in his chest as he spoke. “I’m still trying to figure out why that guy didn’t just leave the room when it was obviously haunted.”