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Movie nights had become a tradition — though calling them movie nights might’ve been generous, considering they rarely made it through a full film. Between the constant chatter, playful arguments over snacks, and at least one person falling asleep every time, the story on screen was just background noise.
And as usual, Yuma was the first to go.
He’d started the night bright-eyed, curled up neatly with a blanket draped over his lap, chiming in on jokes and teasing Taki. But about halfway through, the teasing had quieted. His voice softened. His head began to tilt.
By the time Harua felt the gentle weight of Yuma’s head against his shoulder, he knew what was coming.
“Already?” K whispered, amusement curling through his tone.
Harua gave a soft sigh, shifting only enough to keep Yuma from sliding off. “He didn’t even make it to the good part.”
Fuma, sitting cross-legged on the floor, smiled knowingly. “You know he never does. I think he just likes the excuse to fall asleep on someone.”
“He’s our cat,” Jo said from the far end of the couch, his grin half-hidden behind a handful of popcorn.
Yuma mumbled something too soft to catch, face pressing into Harua’s shoulder.
Taki leaned over the back of the couch. “Did he just purr?”
Everyone froze.
There was a beat of silence — then Harua’s quiet laugh. “No, he’s just breathing.”
“Sounded like purring,” K muttered, but his smile gave him away.
Nicholas snorted from the armchair. “You guys are acting like this is new. He fell asleep on me during dinner once.”
That made EJ laugh, warm and low. “I remember that. You didn’t even try to move him.”
Nicholas raised his hands. “Because he growled when I did!”
“He did not,” Harua said, but the laughter around the room made it clear no one believed him.
It was a running joke in the dorm: Yuma could sleep anywhere, anytime, and on anyone. He’d once dozed off mid-conversation with Fuma, another time halfway through a game with Taki. He never meant to — it just happened, as naturally as breathing. And no one ever minded.
Tonight, though, Harua looked seconds away from falling over himself. Yuma had wrapped both arms around his, cheek squished comfortably against his sweater.
“Someone else take him,” Harua murmured, trying to shift.
“Not it,” Taki said immediately.
“I did it last week,” Fuma added, smirking. “He steals the blanket and drools.”
Harua blinked in disbelief. “You’re exaggerating.”
Fuma raised a brow. “Am I?”
The teasing only made Harua sigh more dramatically. “Fine. I’ll survive.”
But when Yuma let out a tiny, content noise and burrowed closer, all complaints melted away.
—
The movie carried on, light flickering across their faces, but nobody was really watching. It was quiet in the best way — the kind of comfortable silence that only came from being surrounded by people who felt like home.
At some point, Harua’s arm had gone numb, but he didn’t move. K had shifted down beside them, stretching out along the couch and tossing half the blanket over his legs. Fuma had abandoned the floor entirely, leaning against Harua’s knee with his head tilted back.
Taki ended up on the rug, one arm stretched out across Yuma’s legs like he was guarding him. Jo had wedged himself at the armrest, softly humming under his breath. Nicholas had moved from the chair to sit on the floor near Fuma, back resting against the couch. EJ, ever calm, sat on the other side of Harua — offering quiet company, his shoulder brushing Harua’s.
Maki was the last one to give in, slipping out from the kitchen with a glass of water and blinking at the scene. “You all gave up already?”
“Shh,” K mumbled without opening his eyes. “You’ll wake him.”
Maki hesitated, then sighed, setting the glass down and squeezing into the only open space left — near Yuma’s feet, gently pulling the edge of the blanket up over everyone’s knees.
No one said it, but they all knew: the movie night was over.
—
Half an hour later, Yuma stirred.
“Mm… warm,” he mumbled, eyes still closed.
“Yeah, thanks to you,” K whispered, voice fond.
Harua felt Yuma’s fingers twitch against his arm, a lazy attempt to hug him closer. He glanced down, smiling despite the pins and needles running through his hand. “Go back to sleep, Yuma.”
“M’kay…” came the drowsy reply.
And he did. Instantly.
K chuckled softly. “He’s unbelievable.”
“Don’t wake him up,” Harua murmured. “He’ll just fall asleep again somewhere else.”
“I’m not moving,” K said, settling further in.
That earned a quiet laugh from Fuma, who finally reached up to pull the blanket higher. “Then I guess we’re all staying here.”
One by one, the room fell into gentle quiet — the kind that wrapped around them like the blanket now covering most of the group.
The movie’s credits rolled, the rain outside tapped softly against the windows, and for a long moment, everything felt still.
—
When Fuma blinked awake later, the TV screen had gone black. Someone — probably K — had turned it off before drifting off again. Yuma was still dead asleep, his hair messy, his cheek smushed, breathing slow and steady.
And everyone else?
Still there. Still tangled around him.
Nicholas was slumped back against the couch, Maki’s arm draped over his leg. EJ had nodded off against Harua’s shoulder. Jo and Taki were curled together near the floor.
Fuma smiled to himself. “Nap thief,” he whispered, voice barely audible.
But he didn’t move either.