You hadn’t planned on coming over.

But after yawning for the fifth time in the staff room—and nearly walking straight into the faculty bathroom doorframe—Takuto had fixed you with that gently concerned counselor look and said:

"You’re coming to my place after work. No arguments."

Now here you were. On his sofa. Half-buried under the coziest blanket known to man.

Well, technically, both of you were under it. You hadn't realized he draped it across your legs until you groggily woke up mid-rant about your students’ essays.

Maruki chuckled from beside you. “I mean, they're kind of creative.”

You elbowed him lightly. “Every single class. All of them. They just—dumped their hot takes on the Phantom Thieves like it’s a fan forum. My red pen’s out of ink.”

He laughed again—light, warm. “Kids are just excited. This kind of thing…it sticks with them.”

You exhaled. “I know. I know. I’m not mad at them for liking something.” You rubbed your forehead, going on about how it's taken a few all-nighters to grade the lengthy and mistake-filled papers.

Maruki hummed and adjusted the blanket over you both, his hand lingering briefly over your wrist before settling between you.

“No one asked you to stay up all night grading, you know,” he said, voice gentle. “I don't mean to sound like I'm reprimanding you or anything, but you could’ve paced yourself.”

A beat of quiet passed. You noticed the slow rhythm of his breathing. Calm, steady. You felt it next to you, as grounding as the weight of the blanket across your legs.

It felt…weirdly normal. Comforting, even.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he added, softer now. “It’s kind of nice. Not having to pretend we’re just coworkers, like we did at Shujin.”