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Okarun had always been careful about boundaries. With his anxiety and general awkwardness, he didn’t like stepping into spaces that didn’t feel like his. Ayase-san’s room was one of those spaces. It wasn’t that she made him feel unwelcome—if anything, she was always casual about letting him stay over—but every time he found himself sitting on her floor or perched at the edge of her futon, a nagging voice in the back of his mind told him he didn’t quite belong.
That’s why it was so strange to realize he had a side of her bed.
It happened on a quiet evening. They’d spent the day tracking down rumors about a strange UFO sighting near the riverbank. Nothing had come of it, of course, but they’d walked for hours, and by the time they got back to her house, his legs felt like jelly. Her grandma had been understanding as usual, shuffling off to bed after reminding them not to stay up too late.
He didn’t think twice when Ayase-san tossed a spare blanket onto the futon, motioning for him to settle in.
“Here, scoot over,” she said, waving a hand as she flopped onto the other side.
“S-Sure,” he muttered, shifting to make room. He pulled the blanket over his legs, keeping a careful distance as she stretched out beside him, yawning like it was the most natural thing in the world.
This wasn’t the first time they’d ended up like this. They’d shared her futon before, usually out of necessity—late-night brainstorming sessions or collapsing after barely escaping some bizarre supernatural chase. But something about tonight felt… different.
He noticed it when he lay down, turning onto his side so his back faced her. This spot, this specific side of the futon—it felt oddly familiar. The grooves of the mat beneath him, the way the blanket bunched near his feet… it was comfortable, like he’d been here a hundred times before.
And then it hit him: he always slept here.
He froze, the realization sinking in. Every time he stayed over, this was where he ended up—on the left side, his body angled toward the wall. She always took the other side, facing outward.
“You okay, Okarun?” Ayase-san’s voice cut through his thoughts, slightly muffled by her own blanket.
“Y-Yeah!” he blurted, sitting up a little too quickly. “I just, uh… realized something.”
“What?” She propped herself up on one elbow, her hair falling messily around her face. In the dim light, she looked genuinely curious, not annoyed by his sudden movement.
He hesitated, unsure how to explain without sounding ridiculous. “It’s… nothing. Never mind.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re acting weird. Did you see a ghost or something?”
“N-No!” He waved his hands quickly, trying to dispel the idea. “It’s just… do you ever, uh… notice things? About habits, I mean.”
She tilted her head. “Habits?”
“Like, um…” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the wall to avoid looking directly at her. “I always end up on this side of the futon. Every time. I-I didn’t realize it until just now.”
To his surprise, she didn’t laugh. Instead, she grinned, the kind of teasing but gentle grin that always made his chest tighten. “Of course you’re on that side. It’s your spot.”
“My… spot?”
“Yeah,” she said simply, lying back down. “You’ve been coming over so much, it’s just kind of… yours now. Like, automatically. I don’t really think about it anymore.”
He stared at her, his mind racing. It was such a casual statement, but it made his heart feel unreasonably full, like someone had poured warmth into it.
“D-Doesn’t that bother you?” he asked hesitantly. “I mean… I don’t want to, uh, invade your space or anything.”
She laughed, soft and light. “If it bothered me, I’d tell you. Besides, it’d feel weird if you slept anywhere else at this point.”
He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just nodded, lying back down and pulling the blanket up to his chin. The futon felt even more familiar now, like it truly was his spot, the left side of Ayase-san’s bed.
“Hey, Okarun,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter now.
“Y-Yeah?”
“Don’t overthink it, okay? It’s not a big deal.”
“Right,” he mumbled, though his chest still felt tight.
A comfortable silence settled over them, broken only by the sound of her adjusting her blanket. Just as he started to think she’d fallen asleep, he felt something warm brush against his hand.
His breath hitched.
He didn’t dare move, too startled to react as her fingers gently curled around his. Her hand was smaller than he’d expected, but warm—comforting, even.
“A-Ayase-san?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Relax,” she murmured, her tone drowsy but steady. “You’re too tense, like always.”
“I-I’m not—” He cut himself off when she gave his hand a small squeeze.
“You don’t have to act like this is weird,” she said, her voice soft. “We’re friends, right? Just… go to sleep, Okarun.”
He swallowed hard, unsure what to do but too flustered to argue. Slowly, he let his fingers close around hers, mirroring the gentle pressure of her grip.
Her breathing evened out a few moments later, her hand still resting in his. He stared at the ceiling, his heart pounding in his chest, and for once, it wasn’t because of anxiety.
This time, it was something softer. Something warmer.
He had a side of Ayase-san’s bed. And now, for reasons he couldn’t quite put into words, it felt like the safest place in the world.