Chapter 4: “The Blanket War”

Yui had one goal tonight: survive.

That was it. No ambitions. No plans. No world peace. Just emotional survival.

Because Haruki was in the bathroom.

Taking a shower.

And for the first time since moving in, it hit her—he’s going to walk out wearing just a towel… or something equally lethal.

Get a grip, she told herself, pacing the living room like a caged cat. You’ve seen shirtless anime guys before. This is no big deal. Just pretend it’s an episode of Blue Lock or something. This is normal. He’s normal. You’re normal.

…Right?

The bathroom door creaked open.

Nope. Not normal. Not remotely normal. Send help.

Haruki stepped out in sweatpants, toweling his hair dry. And nothing else. No shirt. No hoodie. No adorable hoodie with cat ears like he sometimes wore during late-night ramen runs.

Just.

Skin.

Yui blinked.

He looked like someone had airbrushed him. Softly muscular—not “bodybuilder scary” but that lean, athletic kind of strong that made you think, ah yes, this man probably has back muscles that I am not emotionally equipped to process right now.

When did he get abs?! Is this why he always wore hoodies in school? To hide the danger??
Is that a V line? Do I say something about the V line? No. No one says anything about the V line.
Oh no he’s walking closer. I can’t breathe. Is my face melting? Do I have a fever? Am I having a crisis? Yes. Yes to all of the above.

“You okay?” Haruki asked, oblivious as ever, still towel-drying his hair like he hadn’t just unlocked a new side quest in her brain labeled THIRST: Awakened.

“I’m fine,” Yui squeaked, voice three octaves higher than usual.

He paused. “You sure? You’re kind of… pink.”

“That’s my… skincare routine.”

“…Oh. Cool.”

He plopped onto the couch and began sorting through their new haul of groceries like it was a perfectly average Tuesday, while Yui stood motionless, still staring at the way his shoulder muscles moved when he reached for the miso paste.

Pull it together, she told herself, mentally slapping her cheeks. You’re not twelve. You’re a mature adult. You’re dating. He’s your boyfriend. This is fine.

Except it wasn’t fine.

Because now her brain had been invaded by traitorous thoughts like:

“I wonder what his chest feels like…”
“Would he freak out if I asked to touch his stomach?”
“Would it be weird if I accidentally tripped and landed face-first into his collarbone—no okay yes that would be weird what is wrong with me—”

Later that night, the temperature dropped hard.

Which was not ideal, considering their apartment had the insulation of a cardboard box and only one decent blanket.

Haruki offered the blanket to Yui first. “I’ll just double up with jackets on the futon,” he said, in the tone of a man about to nobly freeze to death for love.

Yui stared at him. Then the futon. Then the pitiful stack of sweaters he was attempting to arrange like a survivalist nest.

“You’re gonna wake up as an ice cube,” she muttered. “Just… just share the blanket.”

Haruki blinked. “Are you sure?”

“It’s a king-size. It’s Switzerland. Neutral ground. No funny business. Just warmth.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Can I at least bring my pillow?”

“Fine. But keep your elbows to yourself. And no shirtless sneak attacks.”

“…I’ll consider it.”

Five minutes later, they were lying side by side on the bed, backs to each other, the blanket pulled taut like a tension wire.

Yui stared at the ceiling, heart pounding like she’d just run laps.

She could feel the heat of him. Not touching—barely—but just close enough to feel the warmth radiating across the inches between them.

Every small shift, every breath he took—it was impossible not to notice.

She tried to calm herself.

Tch. Calm down. This isn’t a shoujo drama. He’s not gonna roll over and dramatically confess his undying love or anything—

“…Hey,” Haruki whispered suddenly.

Yui nearly squeaked. “Y-yeah?”

“Are you… comfy?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Not too cold?”

“Nope. Perfect. Switzerland is very temperate this time of year.”

He chuckled softly, and that sound alone made her toes curl.

Silence stretched out. A soft kind of silence. The kind that made her hyper-aware of everything. His breathing. The weight of the blanket. The way her fingers itched to reach across the space between them.

Then, without thinking—without letting herself overthink—she reached out and found his hand under the blanket.

He froze for half a second.

Then his fingers gently laced with hers.

No words.

Just a heartbeat.

Then two.

Then—

“…Even like this,” he whispered, “I feel closer to you than ever.”

Yui turned toward him in the dark.

Her voice came out soft, breathy. “Me too.”

She scooted just an inch closer. Just enough to rest her forehead lightly against his shoulder.

They lay like that for a moment, wrapped in warmth, fingers tangled under shared blankets and sleepy smiles.

And then—

A kiss.

Small. Barely a brush of lips. More a question than a statement.

But it was enough.

Yui’s heart swelled like a tide rolling in.

They pulled apart, barely.

“Goodnight,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, Yui.”

And for once, her mind didn’t race.

No panic.

No overthinking.

Just the soft sound of his breathing beside her and the realization that, somehow, this little apartment had become the coziest place in the world.