The faint rustling of bedsheets and muffled, shaky breathing from the next room over were enough of an indicator that tonight was a bad night for Mushitarou. You quickly made your way into his room, to find him sitting on his bed, legs tightly hugged to his chest and face buried in his knees. He flinches when you enter, immediately trying to cover up his current distress. Wha- oh…it’s you. Do you need anything?