The Right Side of the Bed （For Safety Reasons） #2
I reach behind me for the blanket draped over the back of the couch and pull it over both of us. "You know what?" My voice comes out quieter than usual. "Fuck that guy. We're watching Demon Slayer."
Max's head pops up. His face is right there, inches from mine, and his eyes are so blue. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Your comfort anime. The one with the sword fights and the crying."
"There's a lot of crying." Max is already reaching for the remote, stretching across me to grab it from the coffee table. "So much crying. It's very emotional."
"I know. That's why it's your comfort anime."
Haru and JP exchange a look I don't understand and don't have the energy to decode. "I'm staying," Haru announces, settling into the armchair.
"Me too," JP says.
Max gets the TV on, navigates to the right episode, and then settles back against my chest. The blanket is tucked around both of us. My hand goes back to his hair because stopping now would be weird, right? It would draw attention to the fact that I was doing it in the first place. So I keep going.
The opening credits start. Max is warm against me, his breathing already evening out. I can feel his heartbeat through his back, steady and strong. My textbook is still on the coffee table, abandoned. The exam on Monday feels very far away and completely unimportant.
Halfway through the episode, Elliot stands up. "I'm going to bed."
"It's not even nine," Max protests without moving from my chest.
"This anime is too bloody."
"It's not bloody, it's plot relevant!" Max and I say simultaneously.
Elliot heads toward his room. "It's a blood-filled cartoon!"
"Anime!" we shout after him. "It's called anime!"
His door closes. Max is laughing against my chest. The sound vibrates through my ribs, warm and bright, and I'm smiling without meaning to. My fingers are still in his hair. Still moving in that slow, soothing pattern.
This is fine. This is normal.
By the time the episode ends, Max is yawning. Big, jaw-cracking yawns that make his eyes water. "Bedtime," I say.
"Mmm." He doesn't move.
"Come on. Up."
"Don't wanna."
"Max."
"Fine, fine." He untangles himself slowly, reluctantly. The blanket falls away, and I'm immediately colder. "You're bossy."
"You're a disaster." I stand up and offer him my hand. He takes it, and I pull him to his feet. "Go brush your teeth."
"What are you, my mom?"
"If I was your mom, I'd tell you to clean your room. There are robotics parts everywhere. I'm pretty sure I found a new motor under your pillow last week."
"That's where I left it!" Max's whole face lights up. "I've been looking for that!"
"Go. Brush. Teeth." He salutes me as he shuffles toward the bathroom, and it’s perfectly ridiculous.
I head upstairs to my room. JP and Haru are still in the living room, but I don't look back. My room is cool and quiet. I change into sleep pants and an old physics department T-shirt, plug in my phone, and get into bed. The left side. Like always.
Max takes the right side. He has, since the first time he wandered in here at 2 AM, wide awake from too much caffeine, rambling about some robotics problem he couldn't solve. I'd listened to him talk through it, and he'd fallen asleep mid-sentence, and in the morning, neither of us mentioned it.
Then it happened again a few weeks later. And again after that. It's not every night. Just… when he needs it. Bad day, can't sleep, stressed about a project. And my door's always open.
His room is a disaster of robot parts and half-finished projects. Last time I tried to sleep in there, I got stabbed in the leg by a stray piece of metal at 3 AM. So when he needs company, he comes here.
It makes sense. It’s perfectly logical. I lie there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, and listen. Footsteps in the hallway. They slow as they approach my door and stop. I lie completely still, waiting.
The door creaks open. Max is silhouetted in the doorway, backlit by the hallway light. He's wearing those ridiculous pajama pants with robots on them and an oversized shirt that says 'I VOID WARRANTIES.'
So, I lift the blanket. Max crosses the room and slides into bed beside me. Immediately curls into my space like he's magnetized. His head finds my shoulder. His arm drapes across my stomach. His feet, cold, always so fucking cold, press against my shins.
"Thanks," he mumbles into my shirt. "For tonight."
"Anytime." My arm settles around him automatically, hand resting on his back. "You know that."
"I know." He's quiet for a moment. Then: "I wanted to find someone, you know? Like Luca and Del. Or Gavin and Sebastian. I wanted…”
"You will. You'll find your person." It's the best friend thing to say.
"You think so?"
"Yeah. The auction guy was just… bad data. Doesn't reflect the whole population."
Max laughs softly against my chest. "Did you just use statistics to comfort me?"
"Is it working?"
"Yeah. Yeah, it is."
We lie there in the dark. Max's breathing starts to even out, getting deeper, slower.
My hand is on his back, and I can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong.
He feels safe here. I can tell by the way his body goes loose, the way his breath hitches slightly before settling into sleep. That's good. That's what matters.
My door opens again, and I lift my head slightly to see Luca and Del standing in the doorway. They were probably coming to say goodnight. Del's eyes go wide when he sees us. Luca nods, completely unsurprised.
Pressing a finger to my lips, I mouth, "Asleep."
"Do you want the door closed?" Luca whispers.
"Yes. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Leo." They start to back out, but I hear Del's voice in the hallway, barely contained:
"So they share a bed often?"
"They're platonic," Luca says firmly. Like he's explaining the obvious.
"Yeah. Sure, they are, Sexy."
"Best friends can share a bed, Del. It's perfectly normal platonic—" Their voices fade as they head toward Luca's room, and I settle back down. Max is warm against my side, his breath steady on my neck.
Platonic obviously. We're best friends. This is what best friends do.
I settle back down, Max warm against my side, and close my eyes. His room is a disaster of robot parts. That's why we do this. Perfectly logical reason to share a bed. My arm tightens around him slightly, and I let myself drift off with his steady breathing against my chest.
I’m just being a good friend.