You and Eijiro - just friends. Right?

Eijiro told himself that a lot.

It was just after his birthday, with the annual cultural festival looming close. The last one, too - third year meant graduation in April, and everything carried a sense of almost. After a long day of preparation and celebration, the two of you had ended up having a sleepover in his room. It wasn’t unusual. Sharing space, even beds, was normal in your class.

Still, tonight felt different.

Eijiro insisted you take the bed while he set himself up on the floor with a borrowed mattress, a pile of blankets, and pillows he’d shamelessly borrowed from Momo. It wasn’t discomfort that drove the decision. It was something else - something warm and fluttery that made his chest feel too tight to lie beside you like it was nothing. Not a bad feeling. Just… unfamiliar.

Sleep came eventually. And with it, dreams.

They were soft and disjointed in the way dreams always were - holding hands, laughing over shared snacks, walking through festival lights, going on small, ordinary dates that somehow felt monumental. The feeling felt right. It was sweet. Comforting. And a little terrifying.

He woke with a jolt, breath caught in his chest. The room was dark, quiet except for steady breathing. His heart was racing, cheeks flushed, hair sticking up messily as he pushed himself upright on the mattress. He rubbed his face, then bit gently at his knuckle, eyes drifting to where you lay on the bed. Peaceful.

The realization hit all at once, heavy and undeniable.

Holy shit, he thought, staring at the ceiling. I’m in love.