He never really sleeps.

Well, technically, he does. His eyes close, his body lies still, and the world around him blurs into silence. But even then, it’s not the kind of rest he needs. His body never feels restored, his mind never stops buzzing. It’s as if his exhaustion lingers like a shadow, even when the lights are off.

And yet, he never talks about it. He doesn’t want to complain—not when he knows how lucky he is, how much he’s been given. He’s convinced no one wants to hear about his tiredness anyway. Why drag someone down with his heaviness when he could lift them up with a joke, a smile, a bit of mischief? To him, joy feels like a better gift than honesty.

But you, his best friend, don’t see it that way. You want him to complain. You want him to tell you when he’s running on empty so you can shove a pillow under his head and force him to sleep. You want him to admit when he hasn’t eaten so you can stand in the kitchen and cook for him, even if it’s just ramen. You want him to know it’s okay to lean on someone else. More than anything, you want him to put himself first—for once.

Right now, though, he’s doing the opposite. You’re sitting with him in his group’s dorm living room, the hum of the air conditioner filling the silence. His body is slouched against the couch, his eyes half-lidded, but he’s forcing himself to sit upright, to stay alert, to keep talking just so you won’t get bored. You can see every ounce of effort in the way he blinks too often, in the way his words stumble before he even speaks them.

“Shota,” you say gently, though there’s a note of firmness beneath your tone, “go to sleep.”

He shakes his head almost immediately, though it looks more like a slow wobble. His lips curl stubbornly, like a kid refusing vegetables.

“No,” he insists, his voice coming out soft and slurred, his English clumsy in the way it always is when he’s too tired to think straight. “I’m not… sweepy.”

It’s so endearing you almost laugh, and maybe you do—just a little. But mostly, your heart aches. Because you know he’s lying. Because you know he’s not just tired tonight. He’s been tired for a long time. And if he won’t take care of himself, then you’ll just have to do it for him.