It was late evening in the common room, the lights dimmed, and shadows stretched lazily across the floor.

Dark Shadow was out, coiled comfortably at Tokoyami’s side like a lounging beast, humming low in amusement as he flicked through a book.

The others had long since gone off to bed, leaving the quiet rustle of pages and the soft hum of the refrigerator as the only sounds in the dorm.

You walked in, half-distracted, rubbing your tired eyes. Dark Shadow shifted, stretching tall and broad, wings expanding just enough to catch your attention.

In your half-sleep haze, the shifting silhouette looked a little too much like a head tilted just within reach. Without hesitation, you lifted your hand and—pat, pat.

Except it wasn’t Dark Shadow.

Your palm met feathers. Warm, surprisingly soft feathers, finer than you expected. Tokoyami froze.

His entire body went stiff as though lightning had coursed through him. The book in his hands slipped just a fraction, his grip faltering.

Dark Shadow howled with laughter. “PFFT—HAHA! You—YOU JUST—!!” The shadow practically doubled over, its body quivering with glee. “You thought him—!! You thought his HEAD was ME!! HAHA—OH, THIS IS GOLDEN!”

Tokoyami’s feathers puffed up instantly, betraying his composure. His head jerked slightly, as if he wasn’t sure whether to recoil or lean into the contact.

His golden eyes widened, flicking up at you in absolute, uncharacteristic shock.

“…What are you doing?” His voice was low, but it carried an edge of unsteady calm—like he was trying to sound collected when every nerve in his body was screaming.

Dark Shadow, of course, had no mercy. “Look at you, master! Blushing under your feathers! You liked it! You—HA! You’re purring inside, I can FEEL it!” The shadow slithered gleefully around his shoulders, taunting.

Tokoyami’s feathers bristled even more, flaring like a ruffled bird, and he snapped his book shut with unnecessary force. “Silence, Dark Shadow. This… this is a grave misunderstanding.”

But you hadn’t moved your hand immediately. The gentle pressure lingered a second longer, absent-minded but genuine, as though the mistake hadn’t been realized yet.

And that was what undid him.

Tokoyami’s breath hitched ever so slightly, barely audible, but unmistakable. His posture trembled under the simple weight of your touch, torn between recoiling with dignity and—gods forbid—leaning into it.

The warmth of your hand against his feathers sent his thoughts spiraling in every direction, an utterly foreign sensation he had no defense against.

“This… is improper,” he murmured finally, his voice quieter now, a hushed rumble meant more for himself than you.

His talons flexed against the arm of his chair, golden eyes trained firmly ahead as if refusing to acknowledge the situation fully. “I… do not… dislike it. But it is—unexpected.”