I want to go on sleeping like this

Natsume Hyuga was an intelligent and gifted man, shaped by the weight of tradition and the responsibilities he had inherited from a young age. His life had always revolved around the ryokan and its intricate management, with the future already mapped out for him. There had always been the promise of marriage to Mikan, the second heir, and he had accepted it, perhaps too easily, as part of the inevitable course of his life.

As time passed, Natsume had once thought that Aoi, his younger sister, would eventually take over their mother's work. But as they grew older, he realized that Aoi was not suited to take the reins of the ryokan. She had a rebellious streak that prevented her from being the leader they needed. It wasn't just a matter of capability—it was her heart. Aoi was not made to manage the ryokan, just as he was. Aoi had always been the free spirit of the family, the one who sought her own path, unlike him who had always followed the rules. The responsibility would fall squarely on his shoulders, whether he liked it or not.

He'd known Mikan all his life. They had grown up together, their paths intertwined long before the marriage had been arranged. Natsume wasn't resentful of this fact, though. Despite the formality of their relationship, he was content to be with her. Mikan was, after all, a beautiful, intelligent and respectful woman. She had a quiet strength about her, and she knew how to respect his space. She told him only what was necessary, the bare essentials, but that was fine by him. She didn't need to say much. There was an unspoken understanding between them.

Lately, however, he had noticed some changes. He had been surprised when Mikan returned from the gym one evening, looking a bit worn out, but there was something about her that seemed different. He hadn't realized how much time she had been spending there, away from the apartment, until he saw her in her gym clothes one day. He was so caught up in his own work and schedule that he didn't pay much attention to the time she spent alone. The fact that she was becoming more independent in her routine made him both curious and uneasy.

It wasn't just the gym. Mikan had made a friend at yoga—Nonoko, if he remembered correctly. They seemed to meet up often, and he found himself occasionally wondering what they talked about. He didn't know that side of Mikan, the part of her that went out with friends and sought connections outside the rigid boundaries of her family's expectations. He hadn't imagined that she'd be the type to socialize so freely, and he was taken aback when she casually mentioned she was going out to eat with Nonoko and her friends one evening.

That was the moment he realized how little he truly knew her. Despite living under the same roof, their lives were still so separate. Mikan was growing into her own, becoming someone more independent, more outgoing, and it left him questioning how much of a role he played in her life. Was she just getting used to her new life in Osaka, or was she gradually carving out her own path without him?

Natsume sometimes wondered if he should make more of an effort to get closer to her, to try and bridge the distance between them. But each day that passed seemed to make their connection more distant, not closer. He watched her find her own rhythm, her own friendships, and he stayed silent, unsure of how to approach the situation. Should he step in and offer more of his presence? Or should he leave her to her own devices, figuring things out on her own?

His mind often swirled with these questions, but his actions rarely followed through. Natsume had always been someone who adhered to duty, and right now, his duty was to manage the ryokan and continue his family's legacy. His thoughts about Mikan, about their future, and about what he truly wanted—those were things he set aside in favor of the life that was already mapped out for him. It was easier that way, wasn't it?

Natsume was a confident man, and that confidence was not without reason. He had always been aware of his own appeal—both in his professional life and in his personal interactions. His charisma was undeniable, and he had never lacked admirers. From his wealth to his status, there were always people who sought beauty, power, or status through him. He was often placed on the proverbial pedestal of the perfect man. Yet, there was one person who remained seemingly impervious to his charms: Mikan.

It wasn't that Natsume didn't want to seduce her—he did, to some extent. He had always admired Mikan for her quiet intelligence, her graceful beauty and the way she held herself with dignity. But he wondered if her upbringing, her strict sense of responsibility, and the weight of her family obligations had made her indifferent to him. They lived together now, under the same roof, and still, she paid him little attention. She wasn't rude, but she didn't show any signs of the kind of affection he secretly longed for.

At first, Natsume hadn't given it much thought. They were both busy with their respective lives, and the arrangement between them had always been more about practicality than emotional connection. But that evening, when he came home from work a little earlier than usual, he couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity tugging at him. He decided, on impulse, to head to the gym to see if Mikan was there.

He reached the gym quietly, standing just outside the glass door for a moment to observe. When he peeked inside, he saw her. Mikan was sitting on one of the machines, focused and attentive as a man beside her appeared to be explaining how it worked. She was listening intently, nodding occasionally, her expression one of concentration. And then, to his surprise, she smiled—genuinely smiled as the man offered some guidance. The warmth of her expression, the ease with which she interacted with him, struck something in Natsume's chest. It wasn't jealousy, per se, but something much more unsettling—a feeling of being an outsider, of realizing he'd never seen her smile like that with him.

The man seemed to be offering more than just instructions; he was offering comfort, a familiarity that Natsume had yet to witness from Mikan. And she, for her part, seemed to be enjoying the moment, even grateful for the help. Natsume's stomach tightened as he stood there, unseen, trying to make sense of what he was feeling.

He hadn't meant to intrude, but in that brief moment, he felt a pang of doubt. He had always been certain about his place in the world, about his role with Mikan and with the ryokan. But now, standing in the doorway, he questioned whether he had been too distant, too absorbed in his own responsibilities. Was Mikan finding connections elsewhere that he had failed to offer her?

With a quiet exhale, Natsume stepped back from the door, deciding not to interrupt. He quietly made his way back up to the flat, his mind racing. He hadn't expected the sight to affect him so deeply. There was something about the way Mikan interacted with the man, so naturally, so freely, that left him questioning his own approach to their relationship. What did it all mean? And more importantly, what should he do about it?

As the door to the flat closed behind him, Natsume found himself at a crossroads, unsure of where to go from here. His thoughts raced as he walked through the quiet apartment, his mind a tangle of questions and emotions he wasn't sure how to unravel. When Mikan returned, he wouldn't say anything. He had no right to.

The realization hit him with startling clarity. They were engaged, yes, but it was still just on paper. Their bond was bound by duty, by family obligation, not by anything deeper or more personal. She was free to live her life however she chose. She had every right to make her own decisions, to form her own relationships, even if those decisions led her down paths he hadn't anticipated.

Natsume leaned against the counter, staring down at his hands for a moment. He had no claim over her. It was an uncomfortable truth to face, especially after years of familiarity with her, but it was the truth nonetheless.

Perhaps he had been too focused on the expectations that had always been placed on him rather than on who she truly was. Mikan wasn't a piece in the puzzle of his life to be arranged and rearranged for convenience. She was a person with desires, hopes and choices of her own. And if she wanted to spend time with someone else, or take part in things that didn't include him, he couldn't object. She was her own person, and Natsume knew, deep down, that he had to respect her.

Natsume said nothing that evening when Mikan returned, surprised to see him already in the living room. She simply greeted him with a polite nod before heading to her bedroom, her footsteps light as she disappeared down the hallway.

Out of the corner of his eye, Natsume watched her retreating figure, a quiet ache settling in his chest. Her body had changed, he noticed—toned, stronger, a reflection of the time and effort she'd dedicated to her workouts. It was a change he had not truly paid attention to until now, but the sight of it stirred something unfamiliar within him. He could hear the sound of the room door closing softly behind her, followed by the faint rush of water as she took her usual post-gym shower.

The evening stretched on in silence, an unspoken distance settling between them like a heavy curtain. Natsume stayed where he was, unable to move, unsure of what to say or do. The truth was, he didn't know how to become closer with her. The more time they spent together, the more he realized how little they truly connected beyond the duties that bound them.

He could see how Mikan had made space for herself in this new life, how she had grown into her independence. And yet, he couldn't help but wonder where he fit into her world. Were they two strangers living under the same roof? Or was there more that could bridge the distance, if only he knew how to reach her?

The silence that filled the apartment felt louder than before, and Natsume found himself wrestling with his own thoughts, unsure of whether to break the quiet, or to let it remain as a reflection of what they were becoming—two people coexisting, but not truly living together.

Natsume was unsettled by his growing distance from Mikan, and one afternoon, as he sat in his office after a long day of work, he found himself contemplating what Luca had said. Perhaps he had been too passive, letting the days pass without making an effort to bridge the gap between them. He needed to do something—anything—to break the silence and the routine that had settled over their relationship.

The following day, Natsume made a decision. He would take Luca's advice, even if it felt awkward at first. It wasn't about grand gestures, he realized. It was the small things that could make a difference. The thought of cooking dinner—something he rarely did—was daunting, but he was willing to try.

Later that evening, Natsume arrived home earlier than usual. The apartment was quiet, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound. He stood for a moment in the living room, unsure of where to start. Then he walked into the kitchen, a quiet resolve settling over him. Mikan had mentioned a few things she liked to eat, so he pulled out ingredients he remembered her enjoying: vegetables, some chicken, and a few spices.

As he worked, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the sizzle of food on the stove seemed to calm his nerves. Natsume wasn't a bad cook, but it wasn't something he had ever made a habit of doing. Still, he persisted, focusing on the meal and not on the uncertainty that lingered in his mind.

When everything was ready, he plated the food and set the table, making sure to add a small vase with flowers, just like he had seen at some of the ryokan dinners. It was a small gesture, but one that he hoped might create a more inviting atmosphere.

Mikan came home a little later than usual, still in her workout clothes. Her eyes flicked around the apartment before settling on the dinner table. "What's all this?" she asked, surprised but not unkindly.

"I made dinner," Natsume replied, his voice betraying a small hint of uncertainty. "I thought we could eat together."

Mikan blinked, taking a moment to process. "You want to eat together?" she repeated, her voice tinged with surprise.

Natsume nodded, his expression a mix of seriousness and an attempt at nonchalance. "Yeah. I thought it might be nice."

Mikan hesitated for a moment before smiling faintly, her eyes softening. "Thank you," she said, her voice quiet but sincere. "It smells really good." She glanced at the food and then back at him, her expression thoughtful. "Would it be okay if I take a quick shower before we eat? I'll be fast."

Natsume nodded, not minding the short delay. "Of course. Take your time," he said, his tone casual though there was a flicker of warmth behind his words.

Mikan gave him a small smile of appreciation before heading to her bedroom to freshen up. Natsume watched her go, the silence returning to the apartment, but this time, it didn't feel quite as heavy. He sat at the table, his mind wandering as he waited, hoping that small gestures like this might lead to something more.

When Mikan returned from her shower, Natsume was waiting for her at the dining table. The atmosphere, though still a bit awkward, felt more natural than it had in a long time. As they began eating, Natsume, to Mikan's surprise, started asking her questions.

"So, how was your week?" he asked casually, his eyes lifting to meet hers.

Mikan blinked in surprise, not used to Natsume showing such interest in her day-to-day life. She chewed on her food for a moment before answering, feeling a little less guarded. "It was good. Busy, as always. The ryokan needed some adjustments, and I've been meeting with some of the staff." She took a sip of water before continuing. "But I had some free time. Yoga and gym. It's been nice."

Natsume nodded, his gaze shifting thoughtfully as he listened, but he didn't interrupt. "And what about today? How was your session?"

"Good," Mikan answered, smiling faintly. "I tried something new—some new stretches with Nonoko." She paused for a moment, considering something, before adding, "It was nice. Relaxing."

There was a brief lull in the conversation as they both continued eating. Natsume, noticing how comfortable she seemed, decided to ask another question, his curiosity getting the better of him. "What do you do when you're not working or at the gym?"

Mikan looked down at her plate for a moment, a quiet reflection in her eyes. "Nothing much," she said slowly, "Whenever I'm bored, I go to the gym or the lobby café."

Natsume listened, nodding quietly. His mind was swirling with thoughts, trying to make sense of the distance between them and how to close it. As the meal progressed, they talked a bit more—about their daily lives, the small things, and even a few light jokes.

When the last bite of food was finished, Mikan set down her fork, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. "This was really nice," she said, looking at Natsume with a soft smile. "Thank you."

Natsume nodded, returning her smile. "I'm glad you liked it."

Mikan paused for a moment, then, with a touch of hesitation, she spoke up. "You know... If you're okay with it, maybe we could do this once a week? Have dinner together, like this."

Natsume blinked in surprise, the suggestion catching him off guard. After a moment, he nodded, the idea settling in his mind more comfortably than he anticipated. "I'd like that," he said, his voice more genuine than usual. "It's a good idea."

Mikan's lips curled into a soft smile, and for the first time in a while, there was a lightness between them that hadn't been there before. "Great," she said, her voice more relaxed. "Which day of the week do you prefer?"

Natsume thought for a moment, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. "How about Thursday? It's usually a quieter day for me, and I don't have as many meetings or late work."

Mikan nodded, considering it. "Thursday works for me too."

"Alright then," Natsume replied, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "It's a plan."

They sat for a while longer, the conversation flowing more easily now that a small bridge had been built between them. For the first time in a while, Mikan felt like they were taking a step toward something more comfortable, something that didn't feel forced or distant.

As the days turned into weeks, the quiet companionship between Natsume and Mikan gradually transformed into a more natural rhythm of cohabitation. Their Thursday dinners became a ritual, each taking turns cooking. Sometimes they laughed over minor cooking mishaps, like the time Natsume misjudged the salt, and Mikan teased him mercilessly. Other evenings were quieter but still comfortable, filled with casual conversation that revealed small glimpses of their lives and interests.

Movie nights became another shared habit. It started with a simple, "Do you want to watch this with me?" and quickly grew into a regular event. Mikan discovered that Natsume had a surprisingly eclectic taste in films, ranging from classic samurai dramas to modern comedies. Meanwhile, she introduced him to heartwarming family films and quirky romantic comedies that she secretly loved. They rarely agreed on what to watch at first, but their debates over which movie to choose often ended in compromise—and those compromises made the experience all the more enjoyable.

Mikan began stocking the kitchen with popcorn and snacks, joking that their "movie nights" deserved proper provisions. Natsume rolled his eyes but didn't complain when she handed him a bowl of caramel-coated popcorn during a tense action scene.

Occasionally, they ventured out together too. If Mikan mentioned a new café Nonoko had recommended, Natsume would sometimes offer to check it out with her. On one occasion, he casually suggested they try a local ramen place he'd heard about. These outings were still infrequent, but each one felt like another small step toward bridging the gap between them.

Their shared moments, no matter how simple, became small pockets of warmth in their otherwise busy lives. Neither of them said it aloud, but they both began to look forward to these little traditions, finding solace in the quiet companionship they were building. It wasn't perfect, and there were still awkward silences and unspoken questions, but they were trying—and that, for now, was enough.

To celebrate their three months living in the apartment together, Mikan and Natsume decided to keep things simple but special. After tossing around a few ideas, they settled on ordering pizzas, grabbing a couple of beers, and watching a movie in the comfort of their living room.

By the time the evening rolled around, they had both made sure to shower and change into their comfiest loungewear. Mikan had opted for a pair of soft pajama pants and an oversized sweater, while Natsume wore a casual T-shirt and sweatpants. The pizzas were laid out on the coffee table, alongside beers and a bowl of snacks Mikan had thrown in for good measure.

The living room was warm and cozy, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows on the walls as the opening credits of the movie began to play. Mikan was wrapped in her favorite fluffy blanket, her legs tucked under her, a slice of pizza in hand. Beside her, Natsume leaned back against the couch, his own blanket draped over his lap, occasionally sipping his beer.

"This is the perfect way to celebrate," Mikan said with a contented smile, taking a bite of her pizza. "No fancy dinners or anything—just us, food, and a good movie."

Natsume glanced at her and smirked. "You're easy to please. Though I'll admit, this does beat going out in the cold."

Mikan laughed softly, nodding toward the window where frost was already beginning to form. "Exactly. Besides, I think I've had enough fancy dinners for a lifetime."

The movie began to draw them in, though they occasionally exchanged comments or laughed at particularly ridiculous scenes. At one point, Mikan reached for another slice of pizza only to find Natsume already holding the last one.

"Hey, I was about to grab that!" she protested, her blanket slipping slightly as she leaned forward.

Natsume raised an eyebrow, holding the slice just out of her reach. "Finders, keepers."

Mikan narrowed her eyes, pretending to be affronted. "You know, sharing is caring."

After a moment of mock consideration, Natsume tore the slice in half and handed her a piece. "There. Happy?"

"Very," Mikan replied triumphantly, taking her half and leaning back into her blanket.

As the movie progressed, the room fell into a comfortable silence, save for the sounds of munching and the occasional clink of their beer bottles on the table. At some point, Mikan shifted closer to Natsume without realizing it, their shoulders almost touching. He noticed but didn't move away, his gaze flicking to her briefly before returning to the screen.

When the credits rolled, Mikan stretched with a satisfied sigh. "That was fun. We should do this more often."

Natsume nodded, his voice quiet but warm. "Yeah, we should."

For a moment, neither of them moved, the warmth of the blankets and the glow of the now-idle TV making the room feel like its own little world. Mikan yawned, her head tilting slightly toward Natsume as her eyes began to droop. He hesitated for a moment, then gently shifted, letting her head rest against his shoulder.

"You're going to fall asleep," he said, his voice soft.

Mikan mumbled something incoherent, clearly on the verge of drifting off. Natsume sighed but didn't move, instead adjusting her blanket to cover her as the quiet hum of the apartment settled around them.

This night felt different for Natsume, and as he sat there with Mikan's head resting on his shoulder, fast asleep, he couldn't stop the flood of thoughts. How had things shifted so quickly between them? What had bridged the distance that once felt insurmountable?

He glanced down at her peaceful face, her soft breathing the only sound in the room apart from the faint hum of the heater. There was a vulnerability to her in sleep, an openness he rarely saw during their waking moments. Something about it tugged at him.

Careful not to wake her, Natsume shifted slightly. He removed the blanket draped over their legs, folding it and setting it aside. Then, moving as gently as he could, he slipped an arm under her knees and another around her back, lifting her into his arms.

Mikan stirred faintly, murmuring something incoherent, but she didn't wake. Her head lolled against his chest, and he could feel the warmth of her breath through his shirt.

He carried her down the hallway, hesitating briefly outside her room. He had never been inside before; their unspoken boundaries had always kept him at a respectful distance. But tonight, she needed him, and he couldn't leave her on the couch.

Pushing the door open quietly with his foot, he stepped into her room. It was cozy, much like Mikan herself—soft colors on the bedding, neatly arranged trinkets on the dresser, and a faint lavender scent lingering in the air.

He laid her down carefully, making sure her head rested comfortably on the pillow. Then, pulling the duvet over her, he tucked her in gently. Natsume left the room, closing the door softly behind him. As he made his way back to the living room, the weight of the moment settled in his chest.

Back in the living room, he busied himself tidying up. He cleared the coffee table of empty pizza boxes and beer bottles, throwing them into the trash. Then, he straightened the couch cushions and folded the blankets. The room was back to its usual order, but his thoughts were anything but.

Standing there in the quiet, he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling softly. Whatever this was—this subtle change in their relationship—he wasn't sure where it would lead. Mikan's growing comfort around him had become something he quietly cherished. It had begun with her simply agreeing to his dinner and movie suggestions, and now, she was opening up in ways he hadn't expected.

She'd started to confide in him about little things—her day at the gym, funny moments with Nonoko, or even random memories from her childhood. Each time she laughed or smiled, it felt like a victory, like they were chipping away at the wall of formality that had once defined their relationship.

What surprised him the most was how natural it was becoming. Like when they settled on the couch for their weekly movie nights, Mikan no longer sat at the far end, curled into her blanket. Instead, she would drift closer, sometimes leaning against the armrest next to him, her legs tucked beneath her, or even sitting so close that their arms would brush.

That subtle closeness was the only physical contact he had with her, but it was enough. More than enough. Especially knowing that she was the one initiating it.