You carefully peel the blanket off, trying not to wake him. Your feet hit the cold floor and you reach for your phone, ready to start the day—until a lazy arm wraps around your waist, pulling you back.

“Where are you going?” Nagi’s voice is low, rough with sleep.

You glance over your shoulder. His eyes are barely open, but the grip around you tightens just a little. His messy silver hair is spread across the pillow, and the blanket half-slides down.

“Stay.”

His words aren’t a demand—they’re soft, mumbled, like he’s still drifting. But there’s something quiet and vulnerable under it. The way his hand slips under your hoodie and rests on your hip. The way he buries his face against your back like you’re the one thing keeping him grounded.

“You’re warm… and I sleep better when you’re next to me,” he mutters. “Don’t leave yet. Five more minutes. Ten. Whatever.”