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Ushijima carefully lifted his free hand and pressed it to Shirabu's cheek. "You're right. He's warm."

"That's not what I meant."

Ushijima's hand travelled to Shirabu's forehead. "He feels warm. Do you think he has a fever?"

"Ask him when he wakes up." Tendou returned to studying, focusing on the notebook in front of him.

Ushijima couldn't write. Shirabu claimed his arm in his sleeping, his head resting on Ushijima's left arm and his hand lightly curled near Ushijima's wrist. Ushijima remained still, his eyes fixed on Shirabu and his deep gentle breathing. Shirabu moved a little from breathing, and Ushijima could feel the small shifts on his arm, registering as faint rhythmic rustling that rubbed to his skin through his sleeved shirt. Shirabu's eyes fluttered and twitched in his sleep, and his lips opened in a bigger breath. The sigh fell over Ushijima's arm, ghosting in a puff of warm clouded pressure.

Ushijima lifted his hand and brushed it over Shirabu's hair, tucking his bangs behind his ear to clear his forehead. Shirabu continued sleeping, and the image compelled Ushijima to move his hand to the top of Shirabu's head, sliding and fitting to the back of it in a soft curve of his hand.

Shirabu's head lolled a little closer to his arm when he pushed on his head too much, and his mouth tilted up with his head. Ushijima's nose wrinkled at the movement. It still didn't wake Shirabu. Ushijima didn't know if he wanted to move away and risk waking him, but his arm was numbing from staying still for so long, and Shirabu looked like he was in a deep sleep.

Ushijima navigated his hand to Shirabu's shoulder, lightly pushing and guiding him away. Shirabu's head bent to the side completely, and he startled awake, his eyes blinking and his hand shooting to his neck as his mouth twisted.

"Why does my neck hurt?"

Tendou shrugged. He didn't tear his eyes away from his homework.

Ushijima turned away. "I'm sorry, but I accidentally woke you up."

Shirabu murmured a wordless babble and yawned, waving his hand over his mouth to muffle himself. "It's alright."

His eyelids drooped, and he folded his arms on the table, lowering his head on top. He rubbed his hands over his eyes sleepily and let out another yawn. His head turned to squash his cheek into his arms, and his eyes fell closed again. He faced Ushijima in his relocated sleep, and his shoulders relaxed the same as he did before, falling into his breathing rhythm and rising in a cycle. His mouth licked together once and let out a large breath, and he shifted to burrow a little more into his arms. Ushijima's eyes flitted over him, taking in his softening shoulders and face, his hands curling to his elbows and his mouth smoothing. Shirabu's lips looked soft and pink, slightly softer and pinker in his drowsy flush from the heater in the library. Shirabu usually complained about being near the heater, but Ushijima couldn't handle the cold well, and he chose the table for them. He didn't think Shirabu would feel or look so warm.

After a few minutes of Shirabu's eyes being closed with his head tucked into his arms, he returned to sleep. Ushijima could tell from his stillness and his comfortable even breathing. Shirabu looked so quiet and calm that Ushijima was drawn in, and he leaned his chin to his hand distractedly, pulling his breath into a steady slowness.

He forgot to ask Shirabu if he had a fever.

A chill ran up Ushijima's back just watching Shirabu approach him, dripping with water from his hair to his soaked through shirt. Shirabu looked cold as he calmly walked up to him. His eyes rose to Ushijima.

"You don't have an umbrella?" Ushijima asked.

"I didn't know it was going to rain today. It was sunny this morning." Shirabu wrung the bottom of his shirt, twisting the fabric and squeezing out water.

Ushijima felt uncomfortable watching him drift into the locker room with his wet hair, wet clothes, wet everything. Shirabu dragged in a raincloud with him and left water on the floor, his sopping jacket trailing small puddles behind him. Semi grimaced as they passed by him.

Ushijima hurried away and retrieved a towel for Shirabu. He placed it over Shirabu's head and ruffled up his hair.

"Ushijima, I can towel myself." Shirabu's hands slipped over his, and he held Ushijima's hands for a moment, gripping them and pushing them away.

His hands were wet, but they still left Ushijima's hands warm. Ushijima pulled his away and let them fall to his sides.

"You shouldn't walk in the rain without an umbrella or raincoat, Shirabu."

"I'm fine."

"You don't have to suffer and be cold. Let me know next time, and I can give you an umbrella."

"You don't need to do that," Shirabu said.

"You look uncomfortable."

"I'm not." Shirabu forced out a sigh and rummaged the towel over his hair, dipping his head forward for a better reach to the bottom of his hair.

Ushijima stood still and silent as Shirabu rubbed the towel over himself. When he finished, he lifted his head, and he looked at Ushijima with flared hair that stuck together in wet clumps. Ushijima leaned closer and patted his hand on Shirabu to smooth it back. His thumb tucked under Shirabu's hair as his fingers pressed over and brushed it into place, pinching strands and running his fingertips over them.

Ushijima removed the towel and dumped it in a dirty pile. Shirabu changed into his practice clothes by the time Ushijima came back, and Ushijima followed and dressed quickly.

Shirabu's hair remained wet throughout stretches and warmups. Ushijima's eyes kept returning to his hair, fixing on the way it plastered to his head and stuck up in some places. Shirabu's running undid his hair more, and when he came to a stop on the court for break, he swept a hand over his bangs. His hand rested at the back of his head, unaware of his messy hair.

Ushijima couldn't bring himself to fix it again. He couldn't bring himself to touch Shirabu or look at him directly, into his eyes staring right at him. Shirabu didn't glance away as he tugged his shirt up by the collar to wipe at his mouth and neck. His shirt lifted away from his shorts, and his stomach appeared beneath, smooth and curved with slight tense movements from his post-jog breathing.

"Ushijima-senpai?" Shirabu asked, his head tilting.

Ushijima swallowed to clear his throat. "Yes?"

"You look distracted." 

Ushijima's mouth opened and struggled for a response, his jaw shifting and head nodding. "If that's what you think, then I'll work on it."

Shirabu's face fell, and his hands let go of his shirt. "Well..."

Ushijima capitalized on the pause to walk away to the sideline and pick up his water bottle for a drink. He turned back and found Shirabu wearing a disappointed frown, staring into the distance.

"Want to come over?" Shirabu asked.

Ushijima walked beside him, on their way to the dorm building from practice. "Yeah. I don't have anything to do tonight. Do you?"

"Yes, but I think I can still finish my homework with you around." Shirabu raised his hand to rub behind his neck, and he bent his folded arm up, stretching it to the air for a second.

His hand fell back down, swinging to his side and knocking into Ushijima's. Ushijima apologized and shifted to walk with a little more distance between them, and Shirabu's steps brought them back together, his hand bumping into Ushijima's again. The twist in his wrist brought his palm against Ushijima's hand in wordless motions that followed the rhythm of their walking. He faced forward without acknowledging the closeness, but Ushijima couldn't stop thinking about it.

Ushijima pulled his hand closer to himself. "Sorry for that. My hand must be cold to yours."

Shirabu huffed. "I didn't feel anything."

Ushijima edged away to a safer distance. They stopped in front of the door, and Ushijima opened it for them and started up the stairs. At the end of the staircase, Ushijima stepped away to maintain the space between them.

Shirabu tugged on his arm. "My room is this way." Shirabu released him and led him down the hall, and he pushed the door to his room open with his foot.

Ushijima followed him into the room. "You shouldn't leave your door unlocked."

"Sometimes I forget to lock it. I don't have anything valuable that can be stolen, anyway." Shirabu dropped his backpack on his nightstand next to his bed, and he crawled onto the bed, grabbing a pillow and tucking it into his lap.

Ushijima locked the door behind him and placed his backpack on Shirabu's desk. He turned to Shirabu to ask him about the door, and he found Shirabu leaning over his pillow with his eyes closed halfway.

"Shirabu?"

Shirabu sat up. "What?"

"Are you tired?" Ushijima asked.

"No."

"You can't keep your eyes open."

"I can keep them open."

"Don't you have homework to do, as well?"

Shirabu sighed. "I'll do it." He leaned to reach over the side of the bed to his backpack. He moved slowly, his legs stretching as his back bent, and his hands scrabbled with the zipper to pull out a notebook. Ushijima was left with the sight of Shirabu's waist-down facing him for a long minute.

"Ushijima? Did you hear me?" Shirabu waved in front of his face.

Ushijima's attention focused back on him. "No, I didn't."

Shirabu's mouth twitched. "It's alright to be distracted."

"Do you need any help with your homework?"

Shirabu shook his head. "No. Just keep me company like you usually do."

Ushijima watched him scribble for a few minutes, his head tilting and eyes closing. Ushijima left to go to the bathroom, and when he came back, Shirabu was sprawled on the bed, his feet flopped over the side and his arms covering his notebook. He was sound asleep on his side, facing away from Ushijima.

Ushijima pulled the blanket over him. He rearranged the pillow under his head and tucked the blanket around his arms, his hand pausing to hover over the top of the blanket. Shirabu's low quiet breathing continued as Ushijima stroked the blanket to pat it down over Shirabu's shoulder. He carefully picked up his backpack and closed the door behind him, locking it and twisting the doorknob to make sure it was secure.

Ushijima sent him a text message reminding him to do his homework when he woke up, and then he went to bed himself.

Ushijima's chopsticks dropped the chunk of rice he was holding. He felt something nudge the side of his leg, but he couldn't tell what it was. 

"What's wrong?" Shirabu asked.

"Nothing." Ushijima scooped up more rice and took another bite. 

The same sensation bumped him again, touching his knee and pressing it into his other knee. Ushijima lowered his chopsticks and frowned into his plate.

He glanced up and saw Shirabu's food unattended. Shirabu slouched in his seat, his eyes on Ushijima as he slid further down the seat. He shifted at the same time as something pushed Ushijima's leg again.

Tendou's head turned. "What is it?" he asked. "You stopped eating."

"Something's on my leg."

"Oh." Tendou picked up another piece of tofu and chewed.

Ushijima faced ahead again. "Shirabu--"

Shirabu's foot wedged between his legs, the tip of his shoe rubbing the inside of Ushijima's thigh. The space under the table didn't give them much room to move, and Shirabu's leg had to brush past Ushijima's knees to reach. 

A hot rush burned up Ushijima's throat. He straightened in a jerk, and his mouth worked through a silent answer, opening and closing uselessly. 

"Haunted by the ghost on your leg again?" Tendou snickered. "You look a little red, Wakatoshi."

Ushijima rubbed his hand over his throat. "I do?"

"He looks fine," Shirabu said to Ushijima, slowly and intensely, his eyes fastening and hardening. Shirabu's foot nudged him again, wriggling into his thighs and trailing a line to his lap.

Ushijima shifted and lowered his hand to Shirabu's foot, his nose wrinkling. "Shirabu, why do you keep pressing your foot between my legs?"

Semi coughed and choked on his water, and Kawanishi's shoulders shook quietly. Tendou howled in laughter, his hands dropping to the table as his head bent forward. Shirabu sat up and swallowed. He tightened his mouth.

"You're not supposed to say that out loud," Shirabu said.

"Why not?" Ushijima asked.

"Aren't you embarrassed?"

"No."

"Your face was red."

Ushijima rumbled in his throat, his eyes averting to a point beside Shirabu's head. The two of them returned to eating in silence, stirring their chopsticks in their rice as the others continued talking.