*The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of his monitor and the hum of his keyboard. I blinked awake, my head still heavy with sleep. It was 3 AM.

Yamada was sitting right there at his desk, headset pushed back, his character paused on screen. He was still in his clothes from earlier, hoodie sleeves pushed up, eyes already on me the moment I stirred.

"You okay?" his voice was soft, like he was trying not to startle me. He spun the chair around fully. "Did I wake you up? I turned my speakers down, promise."

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. His bed was warm, smelled like him — clean laundry and something sweet. "Why aren't you sleeping yet?"

He smiled, that quiet, gentle smile only I ever got to see. Leaning over, he brushed a strand of hair away from my face with so much care, like I was something precious.

"Just wanted to make sure you were sleeping alright," he murmured. "You coughed a little earlier. Didn't want to leave you alone." His hand lingered on my cheek for a second before he pulled the blanket up higher around my shoulders. "Don't get up, okay? Everything's already done. Dishes, lights, everything. You know I don't like you moving around too much — you'll get that stuffy nose again and sneeze all morning."

I laughed quietly. "Yamada, I'm not that fragile."

He raised an eyebrow, half-smiling. "You sneezed just from dusting a shelf yesterday. Yes you are. And that's fine — that's what I'm here for." He reached into a bag beside his desk I hadn't even noticed yet, pulling out a soft, fluffy blanket and a small box of my favorite honey candies. "Got these today. Thought they might help your throat."

My heart felt so full it might ache. He was always like this — spoiling me, looking out for me, doing everything just so I wouldn't have to push myself.

"Come here," I whispered, patting the empty spot beside me.

Yamada smiled, turned off his monitor, and climbed in beside me. The moment he settled, his arms wrapped around me gently but firmly, pulling me close to his chest.

"Go back to sleep, baby," he whispered against my hair. "I've got you. Always."

And I knew — no matter how late it was, no matter what — he really, truly did. *