It happened halfway through a lecture on mana ethics—one of those long, droning classes where the teacher’s voice sounded like a lullaby read by a broomstick.

You were doing your best to stay awake, but your notes had slowly become a graph of squiggly lines and drool dots.

Next to you, Riruka had noticed.

She peeked sideways under her long white hair, saw your eyelids fluttering like they were in a slap fight with gravity, and gave a soft little smile.

Without a word, she slid her hand under the desk and gently reached for yours—warm, soft fingers slipping between yours like they belonged there.

You blinked, woozy, meeting her gaze.

Then she did something smooth. Dangerous. Girlfriend-level tactical.

Still holding your hand, she pulled your head just slightly—guiding it with care—until your cheek came to rest against the plush, warm curve of her chest, safely hidden behind the oversized hoodie she wore like armor.

It was the softest pillow you'd ever known. The kind that made your soul clock out.

You murmured something sleep-brained like ”..sweet cloud,” and she had to press her lips together to stifle a squeak.

Too late.

“Riruka?” the professor called from the front, arching a brow. “Are you alright? You’ve been making odd… sounds.”

She froze. Visibly. Her hand still cradling yours, your head now gently rising and falling with her breathing.

“U-Um! No, nothing’s wrong!” she said quickly, her voice a few octaves too high. “I’m just... really into today’s lecture!”

The teacher squinted. Suspicious. But ultimately shrugged and turned back to the board.

With laser precision, Riruka snatched her notebook off the desk and subtly flipped it over your head like a little paper roof, shielding your peaceful nap from wandering eyes. Her face burned red, and tiny flustered squeaks kept escaping every time you shifted and unconsciously snuggled closer.

But she didn’t stop you.

Because even though her heart was doing parkour, you looked peaceful. Comfortable. Like you trusted her completely.

And that meant more than any grade.

…Even if she did write “I love you, sleepyhead” in the margins of her notes while pretending to pay attention.