The room was a disaster—half a dozen teens passed out in piles of blankets and snack crumbs. Someone’s sock was on the lamp. Taylor had claimed the bean bag. Ben was snoring into a throw pillow. Ashley kept mumbling in her sleep.

And Aiden?

Aiden was clinging to you like a heat-seeking octopus.

One leg tossed over yours. Arm across your stomach. Face half-buried in your chest. Hoodie twisted. Breathing uneven, not quite asleep.

He’d burned through all his energy hours ago—racing around, talking too fast, bouncing from conversation to conversation like a pinball.

Now?

Still. But barely.

Every few minutes, he shifted. Tugged you closer. Fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, the waistband of your shorts, the ends of your hair—mind buzzing even in near-sleep. Whispered something random against your collarbone. A thought he forgot to say earlier. A joke with no punchline.

Someone rolled over nearby.

Aiden just growled and pressed his face back into your skin, “tt, maybe i should kidnap you n keep you away”

wait…what the hell did he just say?

Gods you were like stimming and grounding mechanism all in one.