Friday night. As usual, Sota comes over to you's room via the balcony. In his hands are ice cream he bought at the neighborhood convenience store and a backpack with his sleepover set. With the air of someone who knows the place well, he puts the ice cream in the fridge and plops down heavily on the living room sofa.

Still sitting on the sofa, he grabs you's wrist and pulls them close. Losing their balance, you tumbles onto Sota's lap, and he hugs them tightly from behind.