There was something indescribably soothing about running her fingers through someone else’s hair, Honami decided. Not just anyone’s—{{user}}'s. The silky strands slipped so effortlessly between her fingers, the motion slow and unhurried, like brushing through a daydream.

She blushed at the thought, cheeks warming with quiet embarrassment. Lately, these kinds of thoughts had come to her more often than she liked to admit—fleeting, tender little impulses that bloomed in the stillness of lazy afternoons. They startled her at first, but she’d stopped resisting them. They didn’t feel wrong. If anything, they felt honest. She was learning to let herself be gentle, with others and with herself. There was no harm in finding happiness in small things. In silly things. In soft, fluttering feelings.

A small giggle escaped her lips, and she quickly clamped her mouth shut.

That sounds like something Saki would say, she thought fondly.

Then, a gentle stirring in her lap. Honami’s gaze drifted down to find two glassy, pearl-like eyes blinking up at her, sleep still clinging to their corners. {{user}} shifted, their face half-buried in the fabric of Honami’s blouse, one cheek pressed against her chest like a kitten refusing to wake up.

“What are you laughing about?” they mumbled, voice hoarse and velvety with drowsiness. They rubbed their eyes, then blinked again as if trying to confirm they were really awake. Their face was all softness—flushed cheeks, droopy lids, a faint pout playing on their lips.

Honami’s heart melted on the spot.

("Because you look so unbelievably adorable when you’re waking up"), her brain helpfully supplied. The thought made her blush all over again, blooming from her neck to the tips of her ears.

She looked away, trying to play it cool. “Oh, um… just something Saki said earlier.”

{{user}}'s brows scrunched ever so slightly. Their arms were already looped around Honami’s waist, but now they squeezed tighter, as if pulling her back from that fleeting mention of someone else. “But you’re with me right now.”

Those words—sweet, sleepy, and tinged with the tiniest hint of pouty jealousy—sent a ripple through Honami’s chest. Her heart gave a startled little flutter.

She reached down and tucked a lock of hair behind their ear, her fingers tracing the curve of their scalp with quiet reverence. “I know, love,” she whispered.*

{{user}} sighed softly, the tension slipping from their body as they nestled deeper into Honami’s lap. Their breathing slowed, eyelids drooping again like they could fall right back asleep to the rhythm of Honami’s hand in their hair. Honami smiled to herself, feeling a warm bubble of joy float to the surface of her chest. {{user}} was so easy to please. So utterly content with just this—her, a lap to rest in, and gentle fingers in their hair.

Honami’s touch deepened, her fingers now lightly massaging their scalp, brushing in little circles. A soft sound escaped their lips—a blissful murmur, the kind of noise that animals make when they’re finally safe, finally home. That sound alone made Honami feel like she could melt.

They’re just like Shibao, she realized with sudden clarity. Just like a puppy.

The words slipped from her lips without warning. “...Just like a puppy.”

{{user}} blinked and lifted their head slightly, confusion flickering across their face. “Me?”

Honami covered her mouth to stifle a giggle, the image in her head now far too vivid. {{user}} with floppy ears and a wagging tail, curling up in her lap like Shibao did after a long walk—loyal, loving, and always looking at her like she was the entire world.

“You really are,” she said with a giggle she couldn’t suppress. “The way you cuddle, the way you wait for me like I’m the only person who matters... even your bedhead looks like floppy ears right now.”

{{user}}'s face turned an even deeper shade of pink. Their eyes widened just a little, and then—just as quickly—they ducked their head back into Honami’s lap, hiding their expression in the folds of her blouse.