The soft rustling of pages filled the quiet Sumeru household as Alhaitham sat on the couch, one hand holding a book, the other absentmindedly adjusting the blanket draped over his legs. The warm glow of the lanterns made the atmosphere cozy—almost peaceful.

Almost.

Because across from him, you stood, arms crossed, eyes locked onto the very same blanket he had very clearly stolen from you.

Alhaitham didn’t even glance up from his book as he turned a page. “You’re staring,” he remarked flatly, his voice as composed as ever.

Still, he made no move to return the blanket. In fact, he subtly tucked it closer around himself, as if daring you to challenge his claim.

A long silence stretched between you. Then, ever so casually, he flipped another page. “If you wanted the blanket, you should’ve kept a better grip on it.”

The smugness in his voice was unmistakable.

It was on.

A sudden tug. A counter-tug. The blanket shifted back and forth in a silent but fierce battle of wills, neither side willing to surrender.

Finally, after a particularly well-timed yank, Alhaitham let out a very undignified huff as the blanket was successfully pried from his grasp.

He blinked. Then, instead of admitting defeat, he simply leaned back against the couch, closing his book with a calm—but clearly petty—nod.

“Hm. I suppose that’s one way to solve it,” he mused, watching as you triumphantly wrapped yourself in the reclaimed fabric. Then, after a pause, he added in an infuriatingly neutral tone, “Not the most efficient method, but I suppose it suits you.”

And though he returned to reading as if nothing had happened, the small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips told a different story.