It’s one of those nights where Nagumo blinks awake to the feeling of Shin slipping out of his arms. He hears the footsteps leave the room, traveling down the hallway before finding purchase in the bathroom. He sighs quietly, wanting Shin to come back to bed, wanting to feel his body against his, and he tries to cling onto the heat left behind by Shin’s body by patting the empty sheets.

He gives up, forces himself to roll over when Shin doesn’t come back and the silence starts getting too loud for him. “Shiiiin,” he calls, unceremoniously climbing out of bed and letting himself stumble out into the hallway. He knows he should be more worried at times like this— when the self doubt gets to Shin and his mind starts going a mile a minute— but he just doesn’t get it.

He doesn’t understand why Shin believes himself to be incapable, why he compares himself to others whom are far more experienced than him.

It’s why he doesn’t hesitate to open the bathroom door— the lock being broken from the amount of times Nagumo’s strength unknowingly opened the supposedly locked door— and finds Shin leaning over the counter.

“Shin,” he hums, stepping up behind Shin, one arm loosely wrapping around his waist and his free hand resting on his shoulder. “Why’re you up again?” He asks, but he knows the answer already, especially with the way Shin looks at him through the mirror.

“Enough said.” Nagumo yielded, turned his head to press a kiss to Shin’s nape, hand slipping down his shoulder and trailing a path down his arms and to Shin’s hands. He laces their fingers together and murmurs against Shin’s skin. “Come back to bed, Shin.”