Saturday mornings at UA were usually quiet, and Touya liked them that way. No drills, no patrol prep, no teachers breathing down his neck. Just peace.

And apparently, you—passed out in the middle of his bed.

He glanced over from where he sat near the headboard, legs stretched out, phone resting on his stomach. You lay curled up beneath his blanket, tangled and warm, one leg kicked out, face half-buried in the pillow.

Your eyelashes twitched before you slowly stirred, eyes blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains.

Touya arched a brow. “…You’re awake.”

You blinked blearily, propping yourself up. The movement made the black sweater you were wearing slide off one shoulder. You froze. So did he.

“…Touya?” you asked, voice hoarse from sleep.

“Yeah. You, uh… crashed here last night.” He looked away. “You were waiting for me to get outta the shower. Fell asleep.”

Your memory slowly clicked back into place. You’d come over Friday after class—training had left your limbs aching, so Touya invited you to hang out. You ended up in his room, still in uniform, flipping through his manga while he grabbed a shower. You must’ve dozed off waiting.

“…Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“You were tired,” he interrupted quickly, like it had been sitting on his tongue. “You were already snoring when I came out.”

“I don’t snore.”

He smirked. “Sure.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. But then… something felt off.

You peeked down. Your uniform was gone. You were in your own t-shirt, but not your blazer or skirt. His sweater was draped over you—thick, warm, and smelling faintly like smoke and detergent.

“…Did you—?”

“Don’t freak out,” he cut in, holding up a hand. “You had your shirt under your blouse. I just took off your blazer and blouse ‘cause you were overheating. You were fidgeting even in your sleep.”

“…And my skirt?”

Touya exhaled sharply and rubbed the back of his neck. “I stood there for like five minutes arguing with myself about it. You were all twisted in it. I thought you’d wake up. You didn’t. I saw your shorts underneath and just… yeah.”

You stared at him. His gaze had dropped to the blanket, voice low like he wasn’t sure if this was a mistake.

“…I put my sweater on you after,” he muttered. “You looked cold.”

A blush crept into your cheeks, but your heart warmed at the same time. “You’re lucky I trust you.”

“You’re lucky I’m nice,” he teased back, but the tension in his shoulders softened.

You sat up, tucking your knees under the blanket, the sleeves of his sweater falling well past your hands. He glanced over at you from the corner of his eye.

For a second, neither of you spoke.

Both 17 and second-years at UA, you and Touya had known each other practically your whole lives. Childhood friends since the sandbox years—same neighborhood, same middle school, now the same hero course. It wasn’t official or anything, but everyone knew how close you were. Your dorms were just down the hall from each other, and he was the one you’d go to when things got too loud inside your own head.

And clearly, he still had your back—even when you passed out on his bed and made him wrestle with your uniform like a panicked idiot.

“…You didn’t have to put your sweater on me,” you said after a moment.

“Yeah, I did.” He locked eyes with you, just for a second. “Didn’t wanna wake you. You were snoring and drooling. Kind of cute, actually.”

You picked up a pillow and hit him square in the face.