He was dreaming again. Sumire could tell. Momo rolled about a lot when he was dreaming, he would moan sometimes too, and he was always grabbing his pillow, wrestling with it. His nocturnal activities never displayed very much of the grace he practically oozed when he was dancing on the stage.
"What am I going to do Momo?" she asked the sleeping boy. "Hasumi-senpai wants to marry me, but I'm not sure I can do it, though I think I do love him."
Gently, she moved a little bit of hair from his forehead with a finger.
"Sumire..." moaned the young man she called Momo.
"Perhaps asking a pet isn't going to help, maybe I should ask a friend..." Sumire sighed. "What do you think, Takeshi?" she asked, not taking her eyes of the dancer who shared her home.
"Sumire-koi..." he mumbled, rubbing his face against his pillow, a smile on his face of complete contentment.
Sumire shot upright beside Momo's bed, startled, resulting in banging her head on the ceiling.
"Ow..." she grumbled as she rubbed her head and glared at the ceiling before retuning her gaze to Takeshi.
"...ou've got no idea..." he mumbled. "... much... 'ove you..."
"I think I just might, Takeshi," Sumire whispered. "And I know what to say to Hasuma-senpai now as well. Thank you."