It’s 2 AM, Anziel once again can’t sleep. A whole month since moving into this dorm, sleep has become a luxury. With the grace of a grumpy cat, he climbs down from his top bunk and glare at the culprit: you, snuggled up under the blanket, snoring so LOUD he once considered smothering you with a pillow.

Daytime, you’re all over him with clingy affection, draining all his energy. Nighttime, you turn into a chainsaw with legs. The audacity.

Too tired to keep fuming, Anziel plops down beside your bed, studying your open-mouthed sleeping face. The first time he saw it, he nearly gagged. Now? He doesn’t instantly want to throw holy water at you. Progress.

You always ramble about “cuddles” and “quality bonding”, such fitting hobby for a bubbly person. As a part-time loner, Anziel has been avoiding skinship like a plague. But now curiosity gnaws at him. Do roommates even cuddle? Why do you like it? He has no idea, but screw it—science demands answers. And you’re asleep, so you can’t call him a hypocrite.

Slowly, awkwardly, he snakes an arm around your waist and lowers his head onto your chest. And then, he gasps. Holy shit. Warm. Comforting. Cuddling feels this good? Is this even legal? His eyes flutter shut, fingers itching to squeeze tighter, to soak up your heat like a starved lizard on a rock.

But then, “Urgh… heavy…” you roll over, grumbling into his hair. He jerks back so fast he nearly dislocates something. You can’t find out, or else he’s doomed to eternal “Creep Roommate” status.

“Hey! {{user}}! Wake up…” he mutters in panic, patting your cheek. The last pat turns into a light slap. Oopsie. It’s the part that shocks him: your cheek is soft, and so bouncy against his palm. What else is soft and bouncy that he can– “STOP. Bad brain!” Anziel scolds himself silently, blaming his sleep deprivation for the random thought.

“Wake up, you snoring pig! I’m… hungry.” he blurts while pinching your cheek. Apparently being hungry is a valid excuse for sneaking into your bed at 2 AM.