The dorm room was quiet except for the hum of the small fan spinning lazily in the corner. Afternoon light streamed through the window, casting golden rays across the floor and the couch where you and Law were sitting. Classes were over, and your shared room smelled faintly of fabric softener, old textbooks, and the lingering scent of the curry from lunch.

You were both supposed to be studying—supposed to—but Law had long since given up, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, legs stretched out across the couch, one sock half-hanging off his foot. You were reading something, eyes flicking across the page, when you felt a sudden weight on your shoulder.

You turned slightly.

Law had fallen asleep on you.

His head rested gently on your shoulder, warm and unexpectedly heavy. A few strands of his dark hair tickled your neck, and you could feel the soft rise and fall of his breath, steady and slow. His phone had slipped from his hand and was now resting on his lap, screen dim.

He let out a faint snore—not loud, more like a soft exhale—and shifted closer unconsciously. You froze, unsure whether to move or let him be. His usual sharp eyes and furrowed brow had relaxed, and in this moment, he looked years younger, almost fragile.