For a moment after her question, Caelum didn't answer.
He just sat there, staring at the table like the answer might appear on its own if he waited long enough.
It didn't.
"…Right," he muttered.
Amoriel watched him quietly.
"You have not responded."
"I know."
He ran a hand through his hair, already tired again.
"…Give me a second."
She nodded once and waited.
No pressure.
Which somehow made it worse.
Caelum leaned back slightly, exhaling.
There wasn't much to think about, actually.
That was the problem.
"…There's only one room," he said.
"I see."
"And one bed."
She tilted her head.
"That simplifies the options."
"…Not really."
He stood up slowly, glancing toward the hallway.
The door to his room was slightly open, just enough to remind him it was there.
Normal.
Until now.
"…You can take the bed," he said.
Amoriel looked at him.
"And you?"
"I'll take the couch."
"That is inefficient."
"It's fine."
She studied him for a moment.
Then shook her head.
"No."
He blinked.
"…No?"
"There is no reason for you to move."
"That's not how this works."
"Then explain."
He opened his mouth.
Paused.
Closed it again.
"…It's just how it is."
"That is not an explanation."
He let out a quiet breath.
"…Look, it's normal."
"For one person to leave their own sleeping space?"
"…When there are two people, yes."
She considered that.
Then—
"We can share."
He froze.
"…No."
"It resolves the issue."
"It creates a different one."
"I do not see it."
"Of course you don't."
A short silence followed.
Amoriel didn't look away.
She just waited.
Calm.
Certain.
Caelum rubbed the back of his neck again, thinking it over.
Realistically—
There wasn't a better option.
And arguing with her would just take longer.
"…Fine," he said finally.
"We'll just… use the bed."
She nodded immediately.
"Understood."
"That doesn't mean it's normal."
"It is efficient."
"…Yeah."
—
The room felt different with both of them in it.
Not smaller.
Just… occupied.
Caelum grabbed an extra pillow from the side and placed it between them.
"There."
Amoriel looked at it.
"…What is that for."
"Boundary."
She leaned slightly closer, examining it.
"…Does it serve a functional purpose."
"Yes."
"I see."
She lay down without hesitation.
On his bed.
Like it didn't mean anything.
Caelum stood there for a second longer before following, keeping his distance as much as possible.
The space between them wasn't large.
Just enough.
The ceiling looked the same as always.
Nothing had changed.
Except—
"…This is weird," he muttered.
Amoriel turned her head slightly.
"You have used that word frequently."
"Because it fits."
"I am adjusting."
"…Good for you."
The room fell quiet.
The light was off now, leaving only a faint glow from outside filtering through the curtain.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then—
"Caelum."
He didn't move.
"…What."
"The girl from earlier."
He sighed softly.
"…Lyra again."
"Yes."
"What about her."
Amoriel shifted slightly on the pillow.
"When observing her behavior… she appeared unaffected at first."
"Yeah."
"But later, her responses changed."
"…They did."
She paused briefly.
"Her tone became quieter."
"Yeah."
"And her reactions toward me were more direct."
"…Also true."
A short silence.
Then she asked,
"Was that jealousy."
He stared at the ceiling.
"…Probably."
"I see."
Another pause.
"She does not seem expressive."
"She's not."
"Yet the reaction was present."
"…Yeah."
Amoriel looked thoughtful.
"…That is interesting."
"It's normal."
"For humans?"
"For some."
She turned her head slightly toward him.
"…What is that type called."
He hesitated.
Then answered anyway.
"…Tsundere."
Amoriel blinked once.
"…Tsundere."
"Yeah."
"What does it mean."
He let out a quiet breath.
"…It's when someone acts cold or annoyed, but actually cares."
She listened carefully.
"They deny it?"
"Most of the time."
"And the behavior is inconsistent."
"Pretty much."
"I see."
She was quiet for a moment.
Processing.
"…So the outward reaction contradicts the internal state."
"…That's one way to put it."
"That is inefficient."
He almost laughed.
"…Yeah. It is."
Amoriel nodded slightly.
"…But it creates variation."
"…I guess."
Another short silence.
Then—
"…That is interesting."
"You already said that."
"This time, I mean it differently."
"…Alright."
The room settled again.
Calm.
Still.
Then—
"Caelum."
"…What now."
"Thank you."
He blinked slightly.
"…For what."
"For explaining."
"…You didn't even ask directly."
"I still received an answer."
"…That's not how that works."
"It worked."
He let out a quiet breath.
"…Sure."
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then—
A faint sound.
Soft.
Rhythmic.
He turned his head slightly.
"…What are you doing."
Amoriel didn't stop.
"Recording."
"…Now?"
"I might forget."
"…You're writing in the dark."
"I can see."
"…Of course you can."
The quiet scratch continued for a few seconds.
Then stopped.
"…Done."
"Great."
She set something aside, then shifted slightly.
The bed moved just a little.
Then went still.
Silence returned.
This time, softer.
"…Caelum."
He closed his eyes.
"…What."
"…Good night."
He paused.
Then let out a small breath.
"…Yeah."
A short silence.
"…Good night."
Nothing else followed.
No more questions.
No more movement.
Just the quiet of the room settling around them.
And for once—
Even with someone else there—
It didn't feel as unfamiliar as it should have.