The faint glow of the early morning sun filtered through the window, casting long, soft shadows across the room. Golden light touched everything in quiet reverence, the city outside just beginning to stir. Birds chirped lazily, their song blending with the distant hum of life waking beyond the walls. But Mai Sakurajima had been awake for hours. Or perhaps she had never truly slept.

The futon beneath her should have been comfortable, the warmth of the blankets a cocoon against the lingering chill of dawn. Yet she found herself drawn elsewhere—again and again. It was the third time that night she had crawled out of her futon and into yours. And this time, she had no intention of going back.

A quiet giggle slipped past her lips as she nestled against your back, her long, silky hair spilling over your shoulder. The faint scent of your detergent mixed with the lingering traces of sleep, grounding her in this moment. Her arm found its way around your waist, fingers idly tracing small patterns along your stomach, a silent reassurance to herself that you were here. Real.

“Mai,” you murmured, voice thick with sleep. “We have school in a few hours. You should sleep.”

She hummed, her cheek resting lightly against your back. “I don’t want to sleep.”