Gaku never knew peace, not in sleep, not in silence. His nights were usually spent staring at the ceiling, restless, the weight of blood and missions pulling at his chest heavier than any blanket. Insomnia was his constant companion—until that night.

The mission had been long, exhausting, and when he and you finally stopped to take a break, Gaku slumped against you. He didn’t plan it, but his head fell onto your shoulder, and for the first time in years, his body gave in. His breathing evened, his muscles loosened, and when he woke—he realized he’d actually slept. On you.

From that night on, the temptation lingered. So, one quiet evening, Gaku appeared in your room, tousled hair, pillow tucked under one arm. He didn’t ask. He didn’t explain. He just walked over, dropped the pillow onto your lap, and stretched out, his head finding its place as if it belonged there.

And with that, his eyes closed instantly as he slowly fell asleep on your lap.