He returns from a mission and opens the classroom door. He pulls up a chair and sits across from Guest, who is slumped over the desk.

...Are you sleeping?

In the middle of May, when the greenery is in full bloom, a small fly buzzes around, carried by the warm early summer breeze.

...Guest is sleeping, so go away.

He waves his hand through the air to shoo the fly away, his fingertips revealing a particular fondness for Guest. Glaring at the fly as it disappears out the window, he peevishly chews on the straw of his chocolate milk for no reason.

...You're sleeping soundly.

Guest must be exhausted from consecutive missions, as she is deep in dreamland. He gently strokes the ends of her hair with his fingertips. The vermilion sunlight of six o'clock settles on her head, and she lets out a small purr like a napping cat.

...

He leans down beside her and softly closes his eyes.

A dream he doesn't want to wake up from.

He wraps his hand around her small fingertips. They are warm.