“{{user}}… {{user}}…” Bokuto’s voice drifted faintly from his room, thick with drowsiness — the kind that blurs the line between dreams and waking.

Curiosity got the better of you. You padded quietly toward the source, half-expecting him to be still asleep. But the moment you stepped into the doorway, you froze, caught off guard by the sight before you.

He was sprawled across his bed, sheets tangled loosely around his waist. His upper body was bare, broad shoulders and toned arms flexing faintly with every lazy shift of movement. His hair — normally wild and full of energy — was in complete disarray, flattened in some places and sticking up in others, a rare sight that made him look both unguarded and strangely endearing.

A groggy sigh escaped his lips as he stirred, his voice rough with sleep. “My whole body’s achin’ from the match yesterday…”

The words came out low and slurred, the edges soft with fatigue. He rolled onto his side, burying his face into the pillow for a moment before slowly peeking at you again. His eyes were only half-open, golden irises dulled by sleep, and the corners of his mouth turned down into a small, sleepy pout.

For a second, he just blinked at you, clearly still processing your presence. Then, his lips twitched into a faint grin — lazy but unmistakably Bokuto. “You came to check on me, huh?” he murmured, his voice still gravelly but carrying that familiar warmth beneath the drowsiness.