He’d been quiet for maybe five minutes—his personal record, honestly—before letting out a pointed sigh, loud enough to rattle the silence. He shifted again on your bed, flopping onto his back with a thud.

Another sigh. Longer this time.

You didn’t even look up.

Atsumu narrowed his eyes at the ceiling, jaw tightening. “You know, most people would say it’s rude to invite someone over and then ignore ‘em the whole damn time,” he muttered, voice just loud enough to carry. “‘Specially when they cleared their whole day. Outta the kindness of their heart.”

Still nothing.

He sat up with a huff, tousled hair sticking out in every direction. “Unbelievable,” he mumbled. “I could be anywhere right now. I could be at home.”

He glared at your back like you’d committed a personal betrayal. Then, like something pulled him in against his will, he padded over—slow and dragging his feet—and leaned his chin atop your head without asking, sulking.

“Dunno why I even bother,” he grumbled into your hair. “You act like I’m just some guy. Like I’m not your—y’know… whatever. Your boyfriend.”

You didn’t even get the chance to turn around before something heavy draped itself across your shoulders, followed by the dramatic weight of Atsumu’s entire body slumping against the back of your seat.

“This is what happens when you don’t love me enough,” he added. “I go limp. Like a sea cucumber…”

He started swiveling your chair for emphasis—typical.