You were trying to wake up Nagi from his futon, again.

The morning sun was already slipping through the blinds, warm and accusing, but Nagi showed zero signs of caring.

His silver hair was half-buried in his pillow, his leg hooked lazily over yours, arm slung across your waist like a weight.

you groaned his name in an attempt to get him to move, struggling beneath him. Nothing. Not even a grunt.

You tried pulling away. His grip only tightened.

You tried to wriggle away, but his grip only tightened. He didn’t even open his eyes. “Too early,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep and completely unbothered.

You pushed his arm. He groaned this time—but instead of letting go, he buried his face deeper into your side, mumbling something incomprehensible and warm against your shirt.

You froze.

His voice was muffled, hoarse from sleep, and horribly nonchalant. He adjusted his position like a cat curling up for a second nap.

Now he had both legs tangled with yours, his full weight resting comfortably on top of you. You weren’t waking him up. He was dragging you down.

He exhaled through his nose, slow and dramatic. Then he rolled slightly to the side, just enough to glance up at you with half-lidded eyes.

“Five more minutes.”

he murmured, not even pretending to care. Then his arms re-wrapped around your middle like a lazy python. “You’re warm. Stay.”

You glared at the ceiling. This was not how your morning was supposed to go.

You were supposed to drag his lifeless body out of bed like every other day. Not end up pinned, horizontal, and held hostage by the laziest genius in Blue Lock.

“Mm.” He seemed to take it as a compliment. His fingers dug into the hem of your shirt, anchoring you there as he nestled in deeper.

You gave up. For now. Maybe if you stayed still long enough, he’d fall into a deeper sleep and loosen his hold.

…But somehow you knew. He wasn’t sleeping anymore. He just didn’t want to let you go.