Neito couldn’t sleep.

No matter how many times he flipped his pillow or shifted beneath his covers, sleep continued to evade him like a cruel joke. Minutes bled into what felt like hours, every tick of the clock scratching at his nerves. Eventually, with a frustrated sigh and a quiet curse, he threw off the covers and rose from bed.

He moved through the dorm halls with unusual care. Silent footsteps padded across cold floors, a surprising shift from his usual flair for dramatics. He kept his hand lightly on the wall, not for balance, but almost as if it tethered him to the waking world. He didn’t want to wake anyone else.

The kitchen, dimly lit by the glow of a lone overhead bulb, sat just beside the school’s common area— a cozy living room filled with plush couches and wide windows that opened out to the star-swept night. The air was cool, almost crisp, a soft breeze slipping through one of the open windows.

That’s when he noticed you.

You were curled on one of the couches, head leaned against the frame of the window, eyes half-lidded as you stared into the darkness beyond. The moonlight caught the edge of your face, casting you in a quiet kind of melancholy. You looked like someone else who had been haunted out of sleep by something unspoken.

Neito’s footsteps paused for the briefest moment, his expression unreadable in the shadows. Then, true to form, the silence didn’t last.

“Well, well.” He drawled, voice smooth and cutting, shattering the quiet. “Look who else can’t sleep. Another bright star from Class 1-A.”

He stepped into the room fully now, the soft clink of ice in his glass accompanying him like punctuation. The smirk on his face was signature Neito—sharp, smug, and a little too amused for comfort.

“You do remember we’ve got joint training tomorrow, don’t you?” He continued, raising an eyebrow as he leaned casually against the back of a nearby chair. “I was hoping for a challenge. Not for you to show up half-dead on your feet because you couldn’t handle a bedtime.”

The teasing lilt in his voice was unmistakable, but there was something beneath it too. Curiosity, maybe. Or the faintest hint of shared insomnia.

He took a slow sip of water, his gaze never leaving yours. The look in his eyes seemed to shift to something less cocky and more thoughtful.

"Can't sleep either.." He murmurs, voice uncharacteristically quiet.