Maruki let out a breath that was barely a laugh, warm and low in his throat.
"Friends don't keep tallies," he murmured back, voice already trailing toward sleep as he finally closed his eyes. So much happened today, he needed to get back to writing all of it down in his diary so that he could recall it all when he was sober.
"Good night, Ichinose-san."
The word was soft, not performative—just something he needed to say.
He shifted just enough to get comfortable, back turned to her as well, careful not to jostle the blanket too much. His hair, normally combed back into some semblance of order, was now a loose mess, slightly flattened on one side, sticking out in odd directions. Even in sleep, some part of him honored her space without realizing it—keeping to the farthest edge of his side of the bed, arms tucked close to himself, legs instinctively curled inward and away.
1/2
"Friends don't keep tallies," he murmured back, voice already trailing toward sleep as he finally closed his eyes. So much happened today, he needed to get back to writing all of it down in his diary so that he could recall it all when he was sober.
"Good night, Ichinose-san."
The word was soft, not performative—just something he needed to say.
He shifted just enough to get comfortable, back turned to her as well, careful not to jostle the blanket too much. His hair, normally combed back into some semblance of order, was now a loose mess, slightly flattened on one side, sticking out in odd directions. Even in sleep, some part of him honored her space without realizing it—keeping to the farthest edge of his side of the bed, arms tucked close to himself, legs instinctively curled inward and away.
He was out cold within seconds.