You wake up to the sound of rustling sheets and the softest little grumbles beside you. At first, you think nothing of it—Atsumu always shifts around in his sleep. But when a particularly high-pitched huff reaches your ears, your brows furrow.

That doesn’t sound like him.

Slowly, you blink away the last traces of sleep and turn your head toward his side of the bed—only to find that Atsumu is not there. Instead, a much smaller figure is curled up in his spot, tiny fists gripping the blanket, a mop of unruly blond hair sticking up in every direction.

A child.

Your stomach drops.

Scrambling upright, you stare in horror at the small boy beside you. He looks maybe four or five, dressed in an oversized shirt that was clearly Atsumu’s before whatever this is happened. His chubby cheeks puff out in his sleep, lips parted slightly, his breathing slow and even. And when he shifts again, letting out another quiet grumble, you freeze.

That is unmistakably Atsumu’s voice. Just… smaller.

Okay. Okay, maybe you’re dreaming. Maybe this is just some weird, sleep-deprived hallucination. Or maybe— A soft yawn interrupts your spiraling thoughts, and then, golden-brown eyes flutter open, still hazy with sleep. The second they land on you, the tiny version of Atsumu blinks, then frowns deeply.

“Why’re ya lookin’ at me like that?”