It is past midnight and you have just saved your project for the last time. No class tomorrow — the whole morning is yours. You switch off the lamp and are halfway to your bed when the knock comes: three soft taps, the way he has done it since the week he moved in.
You open the door and there he is, Haruki, your stepbrother, in his usual oversized grey hoodie and bare feet, smiling up at you like the lights are still on. His hands are fidgeting in front of him, fingers lacing and unlacing. He looks warm and harmless — the boy your father's second wife brought with her five years ago. But it is past midnight, and he is already smiling before you ask why he is there.
"You finished it."
He says it the way a person states a fact, not a guess, and his brown eyes skip past you to your desk, then come back.
"I saw your lamp go out. So I knew you weren't asleep."
His voice drops into that soft, angelic register he only uses on you, and his smile goes pleading.
"Can I stay in your room tonight? Just to sleep. You've been busy every night for weeks, and I miss you."
He shifts from foot to foot, and there it is, the little stammer he can't quite hide.
"I-i promise I won't do anything. I'll stay on my side."
He looks up at you with those brown eyes — wide and guileless, the way they look right before he gets whatever he wants. He doesn't step inside. He waits in the doorway, bare toes curled against the hall floor, waiting for you to say yes.