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He blushes, then shifts, glancing past me toward the hall. “So where do I sleep?”

“In my room.”

He scoffs. “Isn’t that where your fucking monster lives?”

I laugh, because the spider has clearly traumatized him on a spiritual level.

“Yeah,” I say. “His tank is in my room.”

“No fucking way,” he blurts. “I’m not sleeping in there.”

I laugh harder. “Ilya—”

“No.” He points at me. “No. Absolutely not. I’m not going near it.”

“It’s behind glass.”

“I don’t care!”

I lift my hands in mock surrender. “Fine. We’ll sleep in the guest room. As long as I share a bed with you,” I add, “I’ll be happy.”

He squints at me. “Don’t get funny ideas.”

I place a hand over my heart and smile with my best innocent face, which has never once convinced anyone and definitely doesn’t now. “I’d never.”

When he gets into bed, he looks uncomfortable. He also tries to keep a distance between us, which I don’t appreciate at all, so I slide in beside him and pull him against my chest.

“W-what are you doing?”

I smile into his damp hair because I’m, unfortunately, weak to that stutter. To all of him, really, but especially that.

“I’m holding you. Now sleep.”

I expect one of his venomous retorts. Instead, to my astonishment, he gradually relaxes into my embrace until sleep finally overtakes him. I follow him into unconsciousness with a smile.

Ilya Solovyov is sleeping peacefully in my arms.

I cannot recall ever being happier.

Ilya

I wake up alone. Rude. That’s my first thought, anyway, before the rest of my brain catches up with where I am. I blink at the empty space beside me and slowly push myself upright, hair falling into my face, only for a sickening dread to knock the air from my lungs. Did I do something? I sit there, desperately trying to reconstruct the night. My nightmares visit me almost every night, and I usually wake up in the middle of them, but this morning there’s nothing.

Maybe I slept like a normal, mildly unstable person for once. Could it be because of Kento? His smell… is weirdly calming.

I drag myself out of bed and head downstairs, still wearing his shirt.

I stop when I reach the kitchen. Breakfast is waiting for me on the counter, neatly arranged. Beside the plate sits a folded note, held down by a single lollipop.

Sorry, I had to go. Eat before you leave.

Bold bastard.

Actually insane behavior, if you think about it. Leaving me alone in his apartment like I won’t steal, break, poison, or investigate everything I can reach. Isn’t he scared I’ll do something to this place? Does he just have that much faith in me? He shouldn’t.

I take my sweet time proving exactly why. I open cabinets, peek into drawers, inspect shelves, and generally violate every reasonable expectation of privacy. In my defense, curiosity is a disease, and Kento is suspicious by nature. Unfortunately, I don’t find anything interesting. Everything is organized and boring.

His bedroom is probably where the good secrets are, but that… thing is still in there, and I’m not voluntarily making eye contact with that abomination again. So I abandon my investigation, drop back into a chair, and finally start eating. The food is annoyingly good. Better than Dimitri’s, if I’m being honest.