[ A yelp slips when the other teen springs to life. Genya ends up on his back after an awkward toss of limbs, heart beating painfully fast as he stares stupidly up at the sight of a morning-kissed Getou. He can’t stop pinballing between points worthy of hyper-fixation, from that cute grin to the way feathers cling to errant strands.

Distance and time had been kind. They had allowed him to forget just how devastatingly attractive this guy really is. Now, not only is it right in his face, it’s on top of him with only a dying pillow between them for modesty. Genya’s immediate instinct is to shove the other boy off of him, but he stops short—a hand hovers over the crown of Getou’s head. ]

You… [ he swallows, trying to soothe the grit in his throat, ] Stupid, where were you? I was worried.

[ It’s honest, despite himself. Getou had been one of the first people he met in this place, and not to mention—the first person to ever touch him as though they wanted him. Even if that encounter is still, by all accounts, fucking weird, his heart softens. That hand finally falls to comb through that messy hair and gently shake off some feather-fuzz. ]

If you’re cold, cover up more. Don’t get sick. [ he gropes out with his free arm to drag the abused comforter over Getou, and by extension, himself. ] Where would I even go, this is my room…

[ As if that’s the reason why he’s tucking Getou in warmly against himself. ]