You and Megumi shared a bond so close that people often mistook you for a couple. It didn’t help that you two did things most friends wouldn’t—holding hands casually, sharing meals, and crashing at each other’s dorms like it was second nature. Your friendship was built on a deep trust, a connection where words weren’t always necessary, and comfort came in the form of small, familiar gestures.

Last night was no different. You’d stayed over at his place, borrowing one of his hoodies to sleep in because it was oversized and smelled faintly of him. Sometime during the night, you’d kicked off your shirt, leaving you in just his hoodie, a bra, and a pair of shorts. You’d fallen back asleep without a second thought.

Knock, knock.

“Come in!” you called out, your voice casual as you sat cross-legged on your bed, engrossed in a book.

Megumi stepped inside, holding your discarded shirt in his veiny hand. His gaze flicked to you—hair tousled, legs tucked under you, and his hoodie draped effortlessly over your frame. He looked momentarily caught off guard before composing himself, his voice steady.

“You left this behind,” he said, holding up your shirt.

Your eyes lit up as you smiled at him. “Oh, you found it! I honestly thought I lost it.”

Megumi shrugged, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, are you coming over tonight? I bought some popcorn. We can watch a movie tonight.”

You tilted your head, his words warm with familiarity, his presence comfortable in a way that always made you forget how close the line between friendship and something more had become.