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Tsukasa had been gone for two days, and yet it felt like something much longer—like time had stretched in strange, uneven ways without him there to fill it.
He was only away on a family trip, chasing autumn leaves and scenic views, sending the occasional message filled with excitement and far too many exclamation points. He would be back tomorrow. Nene knew that. She had reread his last message enough times to have it memorized.
And still… the apartment felt wrong. Not quiet in the way she liked—controlled, peaceful, predictable—but quiet in a way that felt hollow, like something important had been taken out of it, leaving everything else slightly off balance.
Rui and Emu had left earlier that afternoon, their energy bright and overlapping, filling the space with laughter and playful back-and-forth. They had asked her to come along—Emu practically bouncing in place as she insisted it would be more fun with all of them—but Nene had declined, waving them off with a small shake of her head and a quiet excuse.
At the time, it had felt easier.
Now, hours later, it didn’t.
Nene lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, one arm tucked beneath her head while the other idly twisted the edge of her blanket. The room was dim, the light soft and fading as evening settled in, but it did nothing to make the space feel any warmer.
She turned onto her side.
Her eyes drifted—inevitably—toward the door.
Just beyond it, in the hallway, was his. She didn’t need to see it to picture it perfectly. The star chain hanging from the handle. The faint, delicate clinking it made whenever someone brushed past. It was such a small, unnecessary detail—something most people wouldn’t bother with—but it suited him so well it almost hurt.
Bright, noticeable, and maybe a little dramatic, but it was comforting.
Her fingers tightened slightly in the blanket. “…It’s only been two days, it's not a big deal,” she muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible. She pressed her face into her pillow for a moment, as if that might somehow push the feeling away, but it lingered—persistent and stubborn.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t been alone before.
She liked being alone.
So why did she feel—
Nene exhaled sharply, pushing herself upright before she could finish that thought. “This is ridiculous.” The words sounded firmer than she felt.
Still, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, the floor cool beneath her feet as she made her way to the door. The hallway greeted her with dim lighting and a quiet that seemed to stretch further than usual.
Her gaze flickered immediately to the left. Tsukasa’s door. The star chain caught the light faintly, swaying just a little as if stirred by nothing at all. It gave the illusion of movement, of life—like the room behind it wasn’t truly empty.
Nene hesitated. Her hand hovered in the air for a second longer than necessary. “…I’m just borrowing something,” she murmured to herself, as if she needed to justify it. “That’s all.” With that, she reached forward and gently nudged the door open. It creaked softly—not loud, but noticeable in the stillness.
Tsukasa’s room felt… different. It was like he had stepped out only moments ago and would come back at any second, full of energy, filling the space with his voice and presence without even trying.
Nene stepped inside slowly, closing the door behind her with careful quiet. Her eyes moved across the room, taking everything in like she hadn’t seen it a hundred times before.
His desk was neat—papers stacked carefully, a few scripts marked with bold annotations and notes scribbled in the margins. She could practically hear the way he’d read them aloud, putting far too much emphasis into every line.
A small smile tugged faintly at her lips before she could stop it.
There were small things scattered around—items that didn’t necessarily belong anywhere, but felt right where they were. Little reminders of his personality, his habits, the way he filled space without even trying.
And beneath it all, there was a faint, familiar scent. Clean like the lemon scented cleaning products he would use, warm like sugar cookies, yet still unmistakably him.
Nene paused, her chest tightening just slightly, before smiling sadly.
If only he could actually be there.
She turned toward the closet. Sliding it open revealed rows of clothes arranged with almost surprising precision—colors grouped, hangers evenly spaced, everything aligned just a little too neatly to be accidental.
Of course he would organize it like this. Of course he would take something simple and make it… intentional.
Nene huffed softly, though there was no real bite to it.
Her fingers brushed along the fabrics as she looked through them—jackets, shirts, a few pieces that were clearly meant for performances. Each one felt like a piece of him left behind, and somehow that made the absence sharper.
“…Why am I even doing this…” she muttered again, quieter this time.
Still, she kept looking, then—she paused.
There, tucked between brighter colors, was something softer.
A light blue hoodie.
Nene reached for it, gently pulling it free from the hanger. The fabric shifted in her hands, soft and slightly worn in a way that suggested it had been used often—not carelessly, but comfortably.
Her gaze dropped to the front. A small pegasus had been embroidered there, delicate but expressive, wings outstretched as if caught mid-motion. Around it, tiny stars were stitched in, uneven in size and spacing—clearly handmade.
Her thumb brushed lightly over the design, tracing one of the stars. It wasn’t perfect, the stitching wavered in places, the lines not entirely consistent—but it had been done carefully, with attention and time. The kind of care that made imperfections feel intentional rather than flawed.
Just like him.
A quiet, almost fond exhale left her. “…Of course you did.”
For a moment, she simply held it, her fingers tightening slightly around the fabric. Then, without giving herself time to overthink it, she slipped it on.
The hoodie was a little too big—shoulders falling slightly past her own, sleeves long enough to cover part of her hands. The inside was soft against her skin, carrying a faint warmth that might have just been her imagination.
Or maybe not.
Nene pulled the sleeves closer, curling her fingers into the fabric as she hugged it lightly against herself.
The scent was stronger now. It settled around her the moment she pulled the fabric closer—subtle at first, then unmistakable the longer she stayed still.
Her shoulders relaxed, just a little.
“…Just until he gets back,” she muttered, though there was less resistance in her voice now.
The room didn’t feel as empty anymore.
After a moment, she stepped away from the closet and moved toward his bed, sitting down carefully on the edge. The mattress dipped beneath her weight, soft but steady, like it was meant to be occupied.
Like it was missing something.
She hesitated, but as time passed, she slowly laid back. The ceiling above her was different from her own room—same structure, same shape, but it felt unfamiliar in a way that made her more aware of where she was. Nene adjusted slightly, pulling the sleeve of the hoodie closer to her face without really thinking about it.
“…It’s quiet without you,” she murmured, the words slipping out before she could stop them. Her voice sounded softer here.
The silence that followed wasn’t as heavy as before. It settled around her gently, no longer pressing in so tightly.
Her grip on the fabric loosened, then tightened again just slightly. “…Don’t take this the wrong way,” she added under her breath, a faint hint of embarrassment slipping through, “but… it’s kind of annoying.”
A pause.
“…How empty it feels. Heck, how empty I feel right now.”
Her eyes drifted shut for a moment, then opened again, unfocused.
She could almost imagine it; the door opening, his voice filling the room, bright and dramatic as always, complaining about the trip being too short or too long, showing off pictures she didn’t ask to see, talking too much, too loudly. You know, being the Tsukasa Tenma she loved.
Nene’s lips curved down slightly. “…Hurry up and come back already.”
The words were quiet, barely more than a whisper, so quiet it's like it wasn't there.
Her eyes slowly closed again, her body sinking more comfortably into the bed, the oversized hoodie wrapped around her like something familiar, something steady.
And as the quiet settled in around her once more—
It no longer felt quite so empty.
~
Tsukasa had been right when he said he would be back the next day. Just… not in the way any of them were expecting.
The key turned in the lock with a quiet, careful click—soft enough that it barely disturbed the stillness of the hallway. Tsukasa paused for a second after, hand still resting on the handle.
Locked. Of course it was.
A small, satisfied smile tugged at his lips. “Good,” he murmured under his breath, a hint of pride slipping into his voice despite the hour. Whether it had been him before he left or one of the others in his absence, it didn’t matter. The point was—it was secure, as it should be.
He eased the door open slowly, mindful of the late hour, and stepped inside. The apartment greeted him with quiet. Not an empty kind—but a gentle, settled kind of quiet. Tsukasa slipped inside fully and shut the door behind him with equal care, turning the lock again out of habit. The familiar click echoed faintly, then disappeared into the stillness.
For a moment, he simply stood there. He was home.
He glanced down at his phone, the screen lighting his face faintly. 12:33 AM.
“Mm… as expected,” he hummed softly. Late enough that no one would be awake.
(Not that he had truly expected otherwise—but there was always that small, hopeful part of him that imagined being greeted the moment he stepped through the door.)
Still, his shoulders relaxed, the tension from travel finally beginning to slip away. As much as he loved his family—Saki’s bright laughter, the warmth of being surrounded by people who had known him his whole life—nothing could replace the peace he felt in the home he lived in now.
Tsukasa slipped off his shoes, setting them neatly aside before sliding into his indoor pair with practiced ease. The small, familiar routine grounded him, settling him back into a rhythm he hadn’t realized he missed.
He moved further into the apartment, reaching over to adjust the lights. Instead of flooding the space with brightness, he kept them dim—just enough to see, just enough to avoid disturbing anyone who might be asleep behind closed doors. The soft glow painted everything in gentle shadows.
“…I’ll unpack in the morning,” he decided quietly, more to himself than anything else. For now, sleep sounded far more appealing.
He made his way down the hallway, steps lighter than usual, careful without needing to think about it. Passing by the other doors, he didn’t linger—but his gaze flickered briefly toward each one.
All closed, all quiet. That was good.
When he reached his own door, he paused for a fraction of a second—an odd, fleeting hesitation he couldn’t quite explain—before pushing it open.
The room was just as he’d left it. Neat. Familiar. Comforting in its own way.
Tsukasa stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him before moving toward his closet. The faint scent of his room—something uniquely his, though he’d never put thought into it before—felt almost welcoming.
He let out a small breath, rolling his shoulders as he reached for the closet handle. “Finally…” he muttered, voice low, the exhaustion catching up to him now that he had stopped moving. The closet door slid open smoothly, revealing the carefully arranged rows of clothing inside.
Everything was just where it should be. Exactly how he liked it.
Tsukasa reached in, pulling out a fresh set of clothes, his movements slower now—more relaxed, less driven by momentum.
He changed quickly, quietly, mindful of the hour even though no one was nearby enough to hear.
And then—
He turned around…and froze.
There was something on his bed.
A shape.
A very distinctly human-shaped shape.
For a split second, his mind went completely blank. His body reacted before his thoughts could catch up—his hand flying up to cover his mouth, muffling the sound that nearly escaped him. A scream, or at least something very close to it.
His heart lurched in his chest, pulse spiking as he stared at the unmoving form tangled in his blankets. “…What—” The word barely made it out.
He stood there, rigid, eyes fixed on the figure as his brain scrambled to make sense of what he was seeing.
There was no movement. No sound. Just the quiet rise and fall of the blanket, subtle enough that he almost missed it at first.
…Breathing.
Tsukasa blinked.
Once.
Twice.
The initial shock began to ebb, replaced by something more cautious—more curious.
“…Someone is… in my bed,” he whispered, as if stating it out loud would somehow make it clearer.
Another pause.
“…Why is someone in my bed?”
A beat.
“…At this hour?”
The questions stacked uselessly, none of them helping.
Slowly—very slowly—he lowered his hand from his mouth, exhaling carefully through his nose as he forced himself to calm down.
Think. There were only a few people it could be. And none of them would be …well. This.
Still, he took a tentative step forward. Then another. Each movement was careful, deliberate, like he was approaching something that might startle at any moment—even though the figure remained completely still.
By the time he reached the edge of the bed, his heart had mostly settled, though a faint tension still lingered in his chest. “…Alright,” he murmured under his breath, steadying himself.
Carefully, he reached down and grasped the edge of the blanket.
For a second, he hesitated, but with a slow, controlled motion, he pulled it back.
The fabric shifted, folding away—
And there she was; Nene, fast asleep. Her sage green hair was slightly tousled, spilling across the pillow in soft, uneven strands. Her expression was peaceful, completely unaware of the minor chaos she had just caused. One of his hoodies—light blue, slightly oversized—was draped around her, the sleeves half-covering her hands as she held onto it loosely.
Tsukasa stared, then exhaled a long, quiet sigh that carried the last of his tension with it. “…Nene.” Her name left his lips softly, more breath than voice.
Of course it was her. Who else would it be but one of his partners?
For a moment, he just stood there, looking down at her, the faintest trace of disbelief lingering beneath the surface.
“…Honestly…” he murmured, quieter now, though there was no real reprimand in his tone.
If anything, it sounded… fond.
His gaze lingered on the hoodie for a second—the one she had clearly taken from his closet—and something in his expression softened further. “…You could have just said something.”
The words were gentle, absent of any real expectation.
Carefully, he let the blanket fall back into place, tucking it slightly around her without thinking. The motion was instinctive—subtle, but deliberate, the kind of care that came naturally when it involved her.
She stirred.
At first, it was barely anything—a faint shift beneath the blanket, her fingers tightening slightly in the fabric of the hoodie as if she were holding onto something even in sleep. Her brows knit together for just a second, like she was being pulled from somewhere deeper.
Tsukasa stilled immediately.
His hand hovered for a brief moment before he slowly drew it back, breath caught halfway in his chest as if even that small movement might wake her fully.
“…Mm…” The quiet sound slipped past her lips, soft and unguarded.
Her head turned slightly against the pillow, strands of sage green hair falling across her face, catching faintly in the dim light. Her lashes fluttered—once, twice—slow and heavy, like she was fighting her way back to the surface.
Then her eyes opened. Not fully, of course. They drifted, unfocused at first, passing over the ceiling, the dim light, the unfamiliar angle of the room, until they landed on him.
Tsukasa didn’t move.
For a second, neither of them did.
She blinked. “…Tsukasa…?” Her voice was quiet, rough with sleep, threaded with something soft and uncertain—like she wasn’t entirely convinced he was real.
Something in his chest eased at the sound of his name.
“Yes,” he answered gently, lowering his voice without thinking. “It is I.” The words were simple, but the way he said them—soft, careful—made them feel warmer than usual.
Nene stared at him for a moment longer, her gaze slowly clearing as she woke up more fully.
“…You’re back,” she murmured.
Not surprised.
Not dramatic.
Just… quietly relieved.
“I returned earlier than expected,” he said, easing himself down slightly so he was closer to her level, his usual posture softened by the hour. “Though I fear I may have interrupted something.” There was the faintest trace of his usual flair—but it was gentle, almost fond.
Nene’s eyes flickered, her thoughts catching up.
Her gaze dropped from him to the hoodie, to the bed, and then back to him.
“…Oh. Right.”
She shifted slightly, pushing herself up just enough to sit, the blanket sliding down her shoulder before she caught it again. The hoodie slipped with the movement, the sleeves still too long, bunching around her hands.
Tsukasa hesitated for a second before speaking again, softer now. “…Were you comfortable?”
The question seemed simple, but there was something careful in it—his gaze flicking briefly to the hoodie she was wearing, then back to her face.
Nene followed his glance. “…I borrowed it,” she said quietly, fingers curling slightly into the sleeves. “I was going to give it back before you came home… sorry.”
Tsukasa followed her movement, his gaze lingering briefly on the way she held onto the sleeves—like she didn’t quite want to let go. Then he looked back at her face, his voice warm and steady. “There is no need to apologize. If anything, I am… glad it could be of use.”
Nene looked at him again, something softer settling in her expression. “…It helped,” she admitted, almost under her breath.
Tsukasa didn’t respond right away, but the way his shoulders eased—just slightly—said enough. “…I see.”
Tsukasa’s gaze continued to follow the motion, settling on the small stitching—the one he remembered spending far too long on, insisting it had to be just right. Something warm settled in his chest.
Nene glanced up at him again, like she wasn’t used to hearing him sound like that.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The quiet stretched—but it didn’t feel heavy anymore. Just… gentle.
Nene shifted slightly, pulling the blanket a little closer around herself, though her fingers still lingered at the sleeves of the hoodie. “…Did you have fun?” she asked after a moment.
Tsukasa nodded once, a small, thoughtful motion. “Yes. The scenery was quite beautiful.” His gaze drifted slightly, like he was recalling it. “…But honestly, it lacked a certain… presence.”
Nene blinked faintly. “…Presence?”
He looked back at her. “…Yours.” The word was simple. But the way he said it—quiet, unguarded—made it linger.
Nene stilled, her fingers tightened around the fabric. “…Oh.”
That was all she said, but the way her shoulders eased, just slightly, said more.
A soft silence followed, warmer now, more settled.
Nene glanced down again, then back up at him, like she was working up the courage to say something. Her grip on the hoodie shifted.
Then—
“…Hey,” she said, quieter than before.
Tsukasa tilted his head slightly, attentive immediately. “Yes?”
She hesitated. Her eyes flickered away, then back again, her voice softer when she spoke. “…Can I sleep here tonight?”
A pause.
Then, more quietly—
“…With you.”
The words lingered between them, fragile but steady.
Tsukasa blinked, clearly caught off guard—not by the request itself, but by the way she asked it. He studied her for a moment—the way she held onto his hoodie like it was something grounding, the faint tension in her shoulders, the way she didn’t quite look away this time. His expression softened completely, warm in her eyes. “…Of course, as long as you are comfortable.”
Nene looked at him, something in her expression loosening at how quickly he agreed. “…I am,” she said quietly. “…If you are.”
Tsukasa let out a faint breath—something just short of a laugh, soft and fond. “I assure you, I do not mind in the slightest.”
That seemed to settle something in her.
Nene relaxed, just a little more visibly this time, before shifting back down into the bed. The blanket rustled softly as she settled in, pulling it up again—but this time, she didn’t stay where she was. She moved closer, but not all at once. It was a small adjustment at first—then another—until the space between them felt… smaller.
Tsukasa noticed, of course he did, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he moved to the other side of the bed, sitting down carefully, mindful of every shift in the mattress. The familiar dip of it beneath his weight felt grounding, real in a way that made everything else settle.
When he lay down, he left a small space between them at first. Out of habit. Out of consideration.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, Nene shifted again. This time, her hand reached out, cuddling her arm around his chest, hand lightly catching in the fabric of his sleeve—hesitant, but intentional.
Tsukasa stilled at the contact. Her grip wasn’t tight, but it wasn't too loose either, almost like she needed to make sure he wouldn’t disappear again.
“…Welcome back,” she murmured, her voice already softening as sleep began to pull at her again.
Tsukasa’s gaze softened, something warm and quiet settling deep in his chest. “…Thank you,” he replied, just as quietly.
There was a brief pause.
Then, slowly—carefully—he adjusted just slightly to get more comfortable, moving back a bit to close the gap.
The contact was light but steady, like a blanket on a cold winter day.
Nene didn’t pull away. If anything, she shifted closer, her hold on his sleeve relaxing just slightly as her breathing evened out.
The room fell quiet again.
And as Tsukasa closed his eyes, the faintest smile resting on his lips—
Home felt exactly the way it was meant to.
~
Nene stirred first. Not fully awake—just drifting upward through sleep in slow, uneven layers, like she was surfacing from something deep and warm. Her fingers twitched faintly where they rested, curled into something soft and familiar.
She felt fabric; not her blanket, a different texture—slightly heavier, smoother on the outside, worn-soft on the inside. The kind of fabric that held warmth longer than it should.
She didn’t open her eyes yet, she didn’t need to, because the warmth around her wasn’t just general—it had shape. A body beside her, steady and unmoving except for the slow rise and fall of breathing beneath her cheek.
Her breath hitched slightly as awareness sharpened.
There was a scent. It reached her before anything else fully did. Clean—like fresh air blowing into a clean room, mixed with something faintly sweet and warm, almost like a marshmallow over a campfire. Something distinctly him.
Tsukasa.
Her grip tightened slightly without thinking, fingers pressing into the sleeve she was holding. The fabric shifted under her touch, confirming it—soft cotton, slightly creased from being held all night.
…She was still holding onto him.
Nene slowly opened her eyes. The light in the room was pale and quiet, early morning filtering through the curtains in soft, diluted bands. It painted everything in gentle outlines rather than color, like the world hadn’t fully decided to wake up yet.
At first, she only saw the edge of the pillow. Then the blanket, then finally, his shoulder. It was close, too close for it to be anything but intentional proximity.
Her eyes moved up slowly.
Tsukasa.
He was still asleep.
His breathing was calm and even, lightly brushing against the top of her head where she was tucked against him. His hair looked softer like this, slightly flattened in places, a few strands falling forward near his face instead of their usual dramatic styling. His expression was… different too. Not animated. Not bright.
Just peaceful.
Nene froze. Not because she was startled, but because all at once, every sense confirmed it at the same time.
She could feel his warmth steady against her side, radiating through the thin layers of clothing between them. She could the faint rhythm of his breathing, slow and even, close enough that she could feel it more than hear it. She could breathe that familiar scent wrapped around her again, stronger now that she was awake, clinging to his hoodie and mixing with the faint warmth of sleep. She could feel his sleeve still caught lightly in her fingers, and her forehead resting against him without her realizing when she’d moved that close.
…He was really there.
Nene’s shoulders loosened slightly, tension she hadn’t known she was holding melting away in small, gradual pieces. Her thumb shifted against the fabric of his sleeve, brushing over a tiny crease in the cloth. The motion was slow, absentminded—like she was testing whether this would disappear if she moved too quickly. It didn’t.
Tsukasa shifted slightly in his sleep, just enough that the blanket rustled softly, fabric sliding against fabric in a quiet, grounding sound. His warmth followed the movement, staying close.
Nene didn’t pull away. Instead, she adjusted just a little closer, the side of her face pressing more firmly against him. The sensation deepened—heat against her cheek, steady and real. The faint tickle of his breath against her hair. The soft pressure of his arm nearby, anchoring her in place.
“…You’re back,” she whispered again, but quieter than before. She hesitated, then added under her breath, almost like she was thinking aloud:
“…You’re actually back.”
Her fingers tightened slightly in his sleeve again, then relaxed, slowly smoothing over the fabric like she was trying to memorize it through touch alone—the ridges of seams, the slight stretch where it bent around his arm, the warmth it had absorbed overnight.
The hoodie smelled stronger now too; not just lingering anymore—alive with it. Warm skin. Clean fabric. Something faintly like soap and something else entirely that she couldn’t name but recognized instantly as him being here.
Nene’s eyes drifted half-lidded again, not from sleepiness this time, but from something softer settling into her chest.
Relief. Quiet, steady relief.
“…You’re warm,” she muttered faintly, almost like it surprised her.
Tsukasa shifted again slightly, exhaling in his sleep. The sound vibrated faintly where her cheek rested against him.
Nene paused, then, slowly, she let herself settle fully. Not curling away, not pulling back, just… staying in the moment. Listening to the rhythm of him breathing, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath her, taking in his lemon sugar cookie fragrance, his warmth, the quiet.
She was taking in all of it, together.
And for the first time since he left, it didn’t feel like she was missing anything anymore.