The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
Sam lay stiffly on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his heart still hammering after his encounter with Mahiru's father.
"I swear he was about to challenge me to a duel or something…" he mumbled under his breath.
He turned onto his side, eyes drifting to the wall that separated him from Mahiru's room.
She was right there.
Just a few feet away.
And he couldn't stop thinking about it.
Every time he closed his eyes, his mind replayed the scene of Mahiru standing in the doorway—her nightdress flowing softly around her, her damp hair framing her face…
His cheeks burned.
"I need to sleep. I NEED TO SLEEP."
He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to calm down.
…But then a new problem arose.
The bed was too soft.
At home, he was used to his regular mattress—not this luxurious cloud that seemed determined to swallow him whole. It was so comfortable that it was uncomfortable.
He tossed and turned.
Adjusted the blanket.
Then kicked it off.
Then pulled it back over himself.
Then repeated the process five more times.
Minutes passed.
Then an hour.
Still no sleep.
"Kill me now…" he groaned, pressing the pillow over his face.
---
AVery Bad Idea
Sam lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.
Sleep wasn't happening.
And that was when his brain offered him a truly stupid idea.
"What if… I just… snuck into Mahiru's room?"
It was harmless! Just a little peek to make sure she was asleep. Maybe hearing her soft breathing would be relaxing. Maybe it would help him sleep better—
His feet were already moving.
Slowly, quietly, he crept out of bed.
Step by step, he tiptoed toward the door.
The hallway was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon through the window.
Mahiru's door was right there.
He reached for the handle, his fingers barely brushing the wood when—
A terrifying image flashed through his mind.
Mahiru's father.
Standing in the hallway. Arms crossed. Glaring.
"What do you think you're doing, boy?"
Sam froze.
Sweat dripped down his neck.
The imaginary version of Mahiru's father narrowed his eyes.
"Sneaking into my daughter's room, are you?"
"N-No, sir! I was just—uh—"
"Just what?" The imaginary voice dropped into a dangerous tone.
Sam's soul left his body.
In a split second, he turned on his heel and power-walked back to his bed.
Nope. Nope. NOPE.
He dove under the blanket and buried himself so deep he might as well have been a burrito.
"I WAS NEVER HERE."
Heart racing, he stared at the ceiling again.
"I almost died."
Needless to say, sleep still didn't come.
--
Morning Chaos
By the time Sam finally managed to doze off, it was only for a couple of hours.
Which was why, when he groggily opened his eyes the next morning, his brain needed a moment to process what was happening.
The first thing he noticed was… the smell.
A sweet, comforting aroma filled the air—something warm and familiar.
The second thing he noticed?
Mahiru.
She was kneeling beside his bed, poking his cheek with a mischievous grin.
"Morning, sleepyhead."
Sam froze.
His mind, still half-asleep, short-circuited at the sight of Mahiru's face way too close to his.
"Hwah—!?" He practically jumped up, nearly tangling himself in the blanket.
Mahiru giggled. "You were sleeping like a rock. I called your name three times, and you didn't budge. So I had to resort to poking."
Sam rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up properly. "You—you can't just wake someone up like that! It's dangerous!"
Mahiru tilted her head. "Dangerous how?"
Sam refused to answer.
"A-Anyway," he changed the subject quickly, "why are you here? Shouldn't you be, like… making breakfast or something?"
Mahiru puffed her cheeks. "Excuse me? Are you implying that just because I'm a girl, I should be in the kitchen?"
Sam paled. "N-NO! I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT!"
Mahiru burst out laughing. "Relax! I'm just teasing you. Breakfast is ready, though. Mom told me to come get you."
Sam sighed in relief, running a hand through his messy hair. "You nearly gave me a heart attack…"
"That's what you get for acting weird," she said smugly.
As she stood up, Sam suddenly realized something horrifying.
His hair.
He hadn't even looked in the mirror yet, but he could feel it.
It was sticking out in five different directions, making him look like a disaster.
Mahiru noticed his hesitation. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing! Just—uh—" He quickly turned away, trying to pat down his hair.
Mahiru giggled. "You're worrying about your bed hair, aren't you?"
Sam froze.
She knew.
"I-It's nothing! I'll fix it in the bathroom!" he said quickly, scrambling to get up.
Before he could escape, Mahiru reached out—
And ruffled his hair.
"Wha—hey!"
Mahiru giggled. "It's fine. You actually look kinda cute like this."
Sam short-circuited.
Mahiru called him cute.
This was not a drill.
He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
He just stood there, completely flustered, as Mahiru turned toward the door.
"Hurry up, or breakfast will get cold," she said, throwing him one last playful smile before walking out.
Sam collapsed back onto the bed, covering his face with both hands.
"This trip is going to kill me."
----