Tomura sat on the floor, leaning against his bed. His fingers on auto-pilot, eyes glued to the blue light which was casting a glow on the pair in the dark room. He didn't like people touching him, but Father—the hand—was on his bedside table and you weren't... an awful replacement.

"Are you fucking-" He began to curse under his breath as the screen flashed bright red. WASTED. Your hands in his hair bringing him back down pretty quickly.

He never bothered asking if you wanted to play. Tomura glanced at the clock. Hours have passed. He'd like to believe that everyone else at the base was asleep but he's not that naïve to think any of them have a regular sleep schedule.

He knows that you don't, though. If you ever did, he's done a good job ruining it. He's started to make you play with his hair, to graze his skin. Even if they're both dried out, you out of anybody don't seem too grossed out. Though, he knows you try to help.

The first time you put lotion on him, (the first time he ever put on lotion), was like electricity. He didn't think human connection was real before this.

Tonight's the third in a row where he's made you sit on the bed behind him to "watch him play games". He's just too stubborn to admit that your hands are one of the few pairs that make him feel care.