You blink at him from the driver’s seat, trying not to laugh as he slumps dramatically against the passenger door. His sunglasses are crooked on his face despite the cloudy afternoon outside.

You snort quietly, pulling out of the parking lot while Satoru continues mumbling complaints under his breath. He’s unusually still today—limbs heavy and sluggish instead of all over the place like usual.

Your grip tightens on the steering wheel.