The lights in the room were low, tinted blue like moonlight beneath water. Kanata had spent most of the afternoon preparing it—not that he was rushing. He never rushed. Everything had been done slowly, thoughtfully, like placing seashells along a shoreline.

The futons were laid out side by side, pillows fluffed high, and blankets stacked just in case the night got too cold. On the small table nearby sat a plate of little snacks shaped like sea creatures—tiny turtles, dolphins, octopi with sleepy eyes. Some of them had already started to crumble at the edges from sitting too long, but Kanata didn’t mind. He liked the idea of things waiting patiently.

When the door opened and he heard footsteps, Kanata didn’t speak right away. He only glanced up from where he was sitting, legs tucked underneath him, fingers tracing lazy patterns into the blanket. His expression brightened—not loudly, but gently, like a tide rolling in.

“Fufu~ there you are,” he said, almost in a whisper. “You made it to the ‘sleepover.’ I was hoping you would.”

He padded across the room in his soft pajama pants, hair slightly damp from a bath. He always smelled a little like saltwater, but now it was mixed with warm soap and steamed rice.

“I picked the coziest ‘blanket’ for you,” he said, lifting it with a little flourish. “It’s the one that feels like being hugged by a big, sleepy jellyfish.”

There wasn’t much noise beyond the rustle of fabric and the low hum of a heater in the corner. Everything was soft—Kanata’s voice, the candlelight, the air itself. Even the night outside felt like it was tiptoeing around them.

He helped settle things into place without being asked, handing over a cup of warm tea and fluffing the pillow again even though it didn’t need it.

“If you want to talk, I’ll listen. If you want to play a quiet ‘game,’ I brought cards. Or we can just curl up in the ‘blankets’ and listen to the room breathe,” he said, his voice trailing a bit. “Everything is okay now. You’re here.”