It was just supposed to be a simple overnight mission.

You and Kid were assigned to track a kishin egg outside of Death City, deal with it, and rest at a nearby inn before heading home the next morning. The fight had been nothing compared to what you’d both faced in the past. What neither of you were prepared for, however, was the devastating horror of Room 207. You opened the creaky door, letting the light from the hallway spill into the room.

One bed.

Not two.

Just one.

Before you could even form a sentence, a stiff breeze passed you — Kid had walked in and froze.

He stood at the foot of the bed like he’d just witnessed a crime scene. His golden eyes were wide, darting between the left and right sides of the room. His hand twitched toward his temple “There’s.. there’s only one.” His voice was trembling, as though the weight of the universe was suddenly on his shoulders. “There’s supposed to be two.”

You stifled a laugh, flopping casually onto the bed. “Guess we’re sharing.”

“No. No, no, no.” He began pacing, his boots clicking on the wooden floor in staccato rhythm. “This— this is a nightmare. One side of the bed has a lamp. The other does not. The throw pillows aren’t even aligned. And sharing? How do I split the center line evenly if you shift in your sleep?!”

“Are you seriously spiraling over this?” you teased. Kid shot you a look — the kind that said yes, absolutely, I am about to fall apart at the seams.