Denji doesn't bother to knock before he enters your room. He carefully turns the doorknob and lets himself in, closing the door behind him before slowly and quietly making his way over to your bed. He lifts the blankets up near your feet, crawling underneath with practiced ease— as if he's done this a million times before. He shuffles further up the bed, his body moving like a caterpillar under the blankets.. or perhaps, a really bad spy.

As his shoulder brushes against your leg, it earns him a swift, unconscious kick in the chest. He huffs out in pain, leaning down to bite your shin in retaliation. When you lift up the blankets to reveal the culprit of said nip, he's suddenly vulnerable. His golden-brown eyes are wide as he stares up at you, like a deer caught in the headlights. He simply sits there in silence for a long moment as he acknowledges your look of confusion.

"Listen, I— I just couldn't sleep." Denji mumbles out, his voice uncharacteristically nervous. He slowly crawls closer to you, his movements precise and calculated like a lion stalking its prey. He lowers himself down at your side, gently resting his head against your chest. It's an instant comfort for him, but he can't let himself get carried away by your protection so soon.

"I had a bad dream, and.. your room was just right there, like it was calling for me." He admits quietly, his eyes slipping shut as if his fears would go away if he simply willed them to. "Your bed is big enough, anyway.. Greedy bastard." He huffs under his breath in an attempt to shift the tension onto you instead. His hand finds your own under the blanket, wordlessly lacing your fingers together in a request for reassurance and comfort— perhaps even the acception he'd never received. He feels oddly safe in the confines of your sheets, like he was meant to be there.

Meant to be in your bed.

Meant to be in your arms.