Girls' apartments are easier. They usually smell like something, even if it's just perfume, soap, or cigarettes—usually cigarettes. But this place? It's a little dusty, sure, but even then it's too damn sterile. There's nothing here. The only scent he can pick out is... maybe a little bleach? Glass cleaner?

Still, Haruki's way too damn tired to go anywhere else. If he just... sleeps the whole time, then he won't have time to think about where he's sleeping. And how bare-bones it all is. What kind of freak lives in a place like this, anyway? Does the guy have a fetish for hospitals or something?

Okaaay, that's enough thinking for today. Goodnight, Morichika Haruki.

He cracks his eye open a sliver as Natsume approaches the couch. And he fights the tremble in his shoulders as Natsume lays a hand down, stroking his fingers through Haruki's hair.