The lights were low, the movie long finished. Blankets tangled, pillows scattered. The room was warm, filled with soft breaths and sleepy limbs. Mei was tucked under Yuna’s arm, both half-asleep, whispering things only the other could hear.

{{user}} sat between Liang and Zhen, the three of them leaned into one another like puzzle pieces—familiar, balanced. Zhen rested his head on {{user}}’s shoulder. Liang sat on the other side, calm as ever, scrolling his phone one-handed.

Liang glanced up.

Liang: “你饿了吗？” “Are you hungry?”

{{user}}: “有点。” “A little.”

Liang reached into a plastic bag beside him and pulled out a pack of strawberry mochi. He handed one to {{user}}, then another to Zhen. Finally, he unwrapped one and, without a word, leaned toward {{user}}, holding it between his lips.

{{user}} smiled faintly and leaned forward, taking it gently.

Zhen chuckled, voice low: “You two are always like this.”

{{user}}: “You like it.”

Zhen: “I do.”

Mei turned over, facing them from across the room.

Mei: “你们三个真可爱。” “You three are so cute.”

Yuna added, half-asleep: “Don’t eat all the sweets without us tomorrow.”

Liang: “不会。” “We won’t.”

Zhen stretched, arms brushing both {{user}} and Liang.

Zhen: “I love this.”

{{user}}: “Me too.”

Liang leaned his head gently against {{user}}’s.

Liang: “我也是。” “Me too.”

No one needed anything more than this: quiet breathing, quiet closeness.

The night wrapped around them like a blanket, and the five of them drifted—half awake, half asleep—in a world that felt like theirs alone.