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A very large part of Saihara was convinced that Ouma would be a loud, body-all-over-the-place sleeper. He expected to come home and see him sprawled out on the couch with pillows all over the floor and the blanket just barely covering his body every other weekend. Prepared, the taller boy already made a mental list of things he could do to get him to move to his own room - only to find that this would be useless.
Moving in with Ouma (just as friends at first) after the killing game was a big change in his life, but maybe not as large as he expected it to be.
While finding random bottles, packages, papers and clothing accessories all though their apartment wasn't uncommon, there wasn't anything 'private' just anywhere. The short teen was wide awake and moving whenever Saihara was around, and he wondered if he even slept some nights. It was hard to tell.
(Internally, he knew that both of them struggled to sleep. Saihara spent countless nights burying himself in work to distract himself, and the large eyebags and pale skin on his roommate told him that he did similarly.)
One morning, when he’d walked into his roommates room to ask him if he wanted to go to a nearby cafe with him but couldn’t be located, he could have sworn he was having a heart attack; that was until he saw a few purple locks sticking out from under the duvet. As Saihara walked closer, he could finally see the sight which was Ouma, curled up tightly with his duvet reaching his nose. It would have been cute (the short teen would kill him if he said that to him) if it wasn’t for the furrowed brows and thin layer of sweat on his forehead.
It was an awkward few minutes, trying to shuffle around Ouma to wake him up but then being brought into a hug by the latter, half-asleep. Sure, seeing the oh-so-confident boy curled up in his chest was a sight Saihara would die to experience again, yet was unsure whether the small boy would be upset with him in the morning.
Surprisingly, he wasn’t.
The tall boy had woken up to see a wide awake, red-faced Ouma staring up at him as if he had just received the first piece of physical affection in years.
(It could have, really, you couldn’t be too sure with him.)