Itona’s body was always tired from the recovery process — muscles relearning how to move without tentacle strain. So whenever you two sat together, whether on school rooftop or during the ramen trio hangouts, his head found your shoulder.

Sometimes your lap. Sometimes he fell asleep before he even meant to. And he always murmured your name sleepily, like it was the only safe word he knew. Now, he was at your home, in your bed, while he was asleep on your chest.