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“You don’t have to stay awake.”

Waya’s watching Isumi’s face as he speaks, grinning at the way the other boy startles into consciousness from his drowsy slump against the edge of the bed. The shadows under his eyes are enough of a tell for his exhaustion, nearly as good as the fact that he’s been half-asleep since he arrived an hour ago and incapable of any sort of coherent conversation.

“Sorry,” Isumi tries to say before it gets caught by a yawn. “I was up late studying last night. I guess it’s catching up to me.”

“I said it was fine,” Waya says. Isumi glances at him, offers an apologetic smile in answer to the flash of the other’s grin.

“I just don’t want to go.” He offers the words with his chin tipped down, looking up through the shadow of his bangs like he always does when he’s being sincere. “But I’m probably not much fun like this, anyway.”

“Why would you go?” Waya tips his head towards the rumpled sheets of the currently empty bed. “Just take a nap here.”

Isumi blinks at him, glances up at the bed. “Are you sure?”

“Course.” Waya starts to clear the Go board of the unfinished game. Isumi wasn’t playing at his best, anyway. “I just like having you here.”

“If you don’t mind.” Isumi is getting to his feet without waiting for reassurance, falling over the mattress with the heaviness of exhaustion before he even tries to get the blankets over instead of under him. “Sorry.” He yawns again, turns his head to hide the worst of the reaction against Waya’s pillow. “I’ll be better tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Waya’s hands are stalled on the board but he’s not thinking about the stones; he’s distracted by Isumi looping blankets around his shoulder, by the way that the movement settles the other boy into the surroundings like he belongs there. The bed’s not particularly wide -- Waya knows from the occasions he and Isumi make it as far as the bed together that the two of them barely fit, even pressed together as closely as they can get -- and there’s really no space for Waya to join Isumi, even if he was tired enough to consider lying still for an hour. It’s not the possibility of curling in against the other boy that is making his breath go sticky in his throat but something else, the mundane pleasure of having Isumi in his bed, falling asleep over his shoulder as if this is a regular part of a shared life.

Isumi makes a tiny noise, a whimpered sigh as Waya watches the tension in his shoulders give way into unconscious relaxation. He’s smiling, though Waya doesn’t think it’s deliberate, his breath slowing immediately. He must be truly exhausted, to slide towards sleep so quickly.

Waya is still caught in watching the curve of Isumi’s lips, the tiny motion of his eyelashes as he settles into a more comfortable angle, when the other boy reaches out without opening his eyes. His fingers bump Waya’s neck, drag against his collar and over his shoulder until Waya lifts his hand to catch Isumi’s fingers and tangle their hands together. Isumi’s hand tightens on his for a minute, his smile curves wider; then he sighs again, and Waya can feel the tension in his fingers go slack into unconsciousness.

It would be easy for Waya to slide his hand free. He doesn’t. He shifts his weight, turns slightly sideways so he can rest his wrist on the edge of the bed, and keeps his fingertips curled against the warm rhythm of Isumi’s heartbeat in his wrist while he goes back to clearing the Go board.