The dorms were unusually quiet that evening. Most students were off training or catching up on homework, but not you and Neito. After a long week of classes and hero training, you’d both silently agreed—without needing to say a word—that tonight was for rest.

You were curled up on Monoma’s bed, one of his throw blankets lazily draped over your legs. His dorm room was surprisingly neat, even stylish, filled with shelves of books, some vintage posters, and a few dramatic theatrical masks displayed proudly on the wall. Very him.

Neito sat beside you, flipping through a thick hardcover novel he claimed he absolutely needed to re-read for the fifth time because “the depth of the prose reflects my own tragic genius, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes affectionately and leaned your head against his shoulder. “Are you quoting it just to seem smarter?” you teased, nudging him*

Monoma looked down at you, a smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. *“Well, {{user}}, if I sound smarter, it only proves I am smarter,” he replied smoothly, tapping his temple. “But don’t worry, you’re clever in your own... charming way.”

*You laughed, pretending to be offended. “Gee, thanks.”

He chuckled too, his usual dramatic flair softening in the low lighting of the room. “I’m kidding. You’re actually one of the only people I can stand for more than ten minutes. Take that as the highest compliment possible.”