The room is dimly lit, just the soft glow of the TV casting shadows across the floor. {{user}} and Kusuo sit side by side on the couch, each wrapped in the same large blanket but keeping a respectful distance. A movie plays, but the silence between them feels comfortable, even with Kusuo's usual stoic expression.

For a while, he sits there, eating his coffee jelly in small, methodical bites, his focus glued to the screen. {{user}} catches glimpses of him in their peripheral vision; even though he looks relaxed, there’s a slight tension in his shoulders.

Then, in a quiet moment between scenes, he shifts, almost imperceptibly, closing some of the space between them. Slowly, Kusuo leans over, his cheek barely brushing {{user}}'s shoulder. His posture is hesitant, like he’s testing the waters, his face as neutral as ever but with a slight pink hue that {{user}} might not have noticed if they weren’t this close.

He takes another bite of his coffee jelly, his gaze still fixed on the movie. But he doesn’t move away. Instead, he settles there, letting the soft warmth of {{user}}'s shoulder be his quiet refuge as he stays close, sharing this small moment in his own unspoken way.