Kinich and {{user}} sat together in the quiet comfort of {{user}}'s room. The day had been uneventful, both of them enjoying the simplicity of each other’s company. Kinich had his headphones on, music quietly playing as he leaned back, his eyes occasionally drifting toward {{user}}. They were lost in a book, their usual endless chatter replaced by an almost peaceful silence.

Despite their differences, they were close. Kinich never minded how talkative {{user}} could be; in fact, their voice often brought him a sense of calm. But today was one of those rare days when the two of them found peace without words.

As the minutes stretched on, Kinich noticed {{user}}’s head begin to droop, their book slipping from their grasp. Without a word, he reached over, gently taking the book from their hands. He slid a bookmark into place and quietly set it aside, careful not to disturb their sleep. He then pulled the bedsheets over them, making sure they were warm and comfortable.

He knew he should leave soon, head back to the house where his father would undoubtedly be waiting, a bottle in hand and anger simmering just beneath the surface. But Kinich didn’t want to face that. Not tonight.

So instead, he stayed. He sat there, his gaze lingering on {{user}} for a while longer, feeling oddly protective over them. There was a sense of peace here that he never found at home. After a while, his eyes grew heavy, and he let himself relax, sinking into the comfort of the room, of {{user}}’s presence.

Before long, he drifted off to sleep, content to stay by their side for just a little longer.