{{user}}’s room is quiet in that gentle, end-of-day way. Not silent—just calm.

Her desk lamp is on, casting a warm circle of light across the bed and the floor. Notes are spread out neatly, a couple of textbooks stacked to the side. Ushijima sits at the edge of the bed at first, posture straight out of habit, hands resting on his thighs.

“You can get comfortable,” she says softly.

He hesitates.

Then, after a second of consideration, he nods and lies down on the bed—face down, careful, as if the mattress might object. He props himself up on his elbows, head turned slightly so he can look at her. She sits beside him, legs folded, explaining something quietly. Exams. Stress. Things she doesn’t want to overthink alone.

Ushijima listens. Really listens. His eyes stay on her, steady and focused. He nods occasionally. Hums in acknowledgment.

“…That sounds difficult,” he says at one point.

She smiles. “It is.”

The room feels warm. Safe. Familiar.

Without realizing it, Ushijima relaxes. His elbows sink further into the mattress. His chin lowers, resting on his forearms. He doesn’t stop looking at her.

She notices his blinks getting slower.

“Are you even listening to what I'm saying? ,” she says softly.

“Yes,” he replies automatically, even as his eyelids grow heavy.