This one makes more sense with the coming of another Definition of Love.
Sleep
Curled up in the shade of a tree, sans manga, surprisingly, Takuma looked at the grass, and felt its vague warmth. It had been raining earlier, and though he was completely muddy, the grass he'd kept dry still contained some of his warmth. Hearing voices, he ceased his quiet, forlorn hum and raised his head. Rima and Shiki walked together, conversing inaudibly, even to Takuma's well-trained ears. She seemed shaken, though the awkward encounter had been several days previous. Takuma resisted the urge to get up and demand what had been going on. Instead, he glared at the pair for a while before slowly creeping back to his dorm.
Kaname lay on the floor, stretched through the door, his head on the carpet of his room, bare feet on that of Takuma's. He looked exhausted, breathing heavily, hair strewn across his face, forever stylish, but a bit tangled in the back. Takuma sighed, and wondered how much effort it would take to get his good friend to bed without waking him. How he'd ended up in that position, no one could guess, but Takuma assumed Kaname had been waiting for his return. Glancing at the clock, Takuma noted that it was three in the afternoon. Everyone should be sleeping. He should have been sleeping long ago. Luckily he'd finished his homework earlier in the night, but he realized that four hours of sleep would not make his already fragile, quiet state any stronger. However, he took the time to heave up the limp Kaname, bracing himself on the door frame. With a bit of difficulty, he got his friend onto the bed, smiling at Yuki, who woke for a moment to wrap her arm around the president's. After a moment of looking down on them, watching their eyes flicker from the disturbance, Takuma straightened the straying locks of dark hair and gently thumped Kaname on the chest.
"Sleep well my friend, I know you need it."
Returning to his room, Takuma left the door wide open as he stripped out of his muddy clothes and pondered a shower. Not a bad idea, but it was quite late; he could shower in the evening. His indecisiveness wasted six minutes, and three minutes after that, scalding hot water poured onto his hunched back. He marveled at the heat as it seared against his skin, sliding along every curve and muscle of his body, attempting to soothe him. When he slipped back into his room, towel draped idly on his hips, Takuma fell into bed, groaning as he sank deep into its warmth, drowning in silk and down.
xox