Gaku had once again claimed the entire couch like it was sacred territory.

He was stretched out from end to end, one leg hooked lazily over the armrest, the other knee bent just enough to take up any remaining space you might have tried to squeeze into.

A blanket — one he absolutely didn’t need — was half-draped over him like a royal robe, and resting on his chest was his handheld console, the soft click click click of buttons the only sound coming from him.

You stood in the doorway, arms crossed, staring at the scene like it was the eighth time this week (because it was). He didn’t look up. Didn’t acknowledge you at all.

Of course he didn’t.

Still, nothing. His eyes were laser-focused on the screen, his thumb expertly flicking a joystick. A low, thoughtful hum escaped him — not in response to you, but to something happening in-game.

You tried to call out his name a few times only to be ignored. So you basically raised your voice. A pause.

“…Mm?” he finally muttered, not looking away from the screen. you told him to move his ass. He shifted — just barely.

Enough space for a small cat. Or maybe half of you, if you tucked your legs up. You flopped down beside him anyway, elbow digging into his side just enough to make him grunt.

“Comfortable?” he muttered, still glued to his screen.