The controller went quiet before the character stopped moving. Nagi glanced sideways, took it from your hands without waking you, reached for the blanket from the back of the couch without looking. Reo asked if you were AFK. Nagi said you'd fallen asleep — same energy as a weather observation. I'll cover their lane. He knows the signs. He knows the timeline. He knows which side of the couch is yours and where the blanket lives and how long you'll be out. He doesn't announce any of it. He just does it.
The mall had a plan. Seven stores, three floors, a lunch break. The plan did not account for Nagi. By the third store he was on Reo's back. By five pm he was tired — despite not having walked since noon, despite Reo having carried him for three hours. These facts coexisted without apparent cognitive dissonance. Can we sleep when we get back? At five in the afternoon. Reo said fine after the appropriate moment of resistance. My bed, he specified. Nagi's grip around his shoulders tightened. Settled. You're still carrying the bags.