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"No, Wakatoshi, this is how you do it." Tendou flattened his hand on the paper and folded it in a few creases. He lifted it when he was done and flared the sides out, flapping them to his satisfaction.
"What are you supposed to do with it?" Ushijima asked.
Tendou smoothed his fingers over the nose of the airplane and aimed it at Shirabu's head, squinting and licking his lips in concentration.
"Go ahead," Shirabu said flatly.
Tendou readied his hand in a small rocking movement and sent it flying. It dipped down below its intended angle and dove into Shirabu's chest, landing with a small poke into his shirt. Shirabu bent his head in a delayed glance at it.
"Why did you do that?" Ushijima still continued to fold paper, carefully pressing his fingers along the edges for even creases.
"Kenjirou told me to."
Shirabu shifted in his chair. "Is this all you're going to do tonight? Teach him how to make paper airplanes?"
Ushijima sat up from his side of Tendou's bed. He tossed his paper airplane at Shirabu, and it flopped through an idle dive and fell to the floor. Everyone watched it sink.
"You didn't do it right," Tendou said.
"What did I do wrong?"
"I don't know. Try again. I'll supervise."
A wad of wrinkled paper hit Shirabu near his ear, and he swiveled to its source. Goshiki's hand still hung in the air, curved from the throw. He snapped it back and sunk in his seat.
Shirabu's lips pulled together sourly. "Was that an accident?"
"No."
"Does it make it better if it's on purpose?" Tendou crumpled a piece of paper and lobbed it at Shirabu. It thudded off of Shirabu's hand after he raised it to shield himself.
"You're wasting paper," Shirabu said.
Kawanishi reached for another slip of paper on the bed and pulled it to himself. Tendou and Ushijima were the only ones sitting on Tendou's bed, and Kawanishi sat in a chair near the foot of it, with Shirabu and Goshiki in their own chairs.
Shirabu stood and picked up the papers from the floor. He walked to the trashcan to throw them away, but he stopped to unfold the papers. Goshiki's had messy scribbling with kanji and numbers written up and down the page in uneven patterns, and Tendou's listed random prices of food. Ushijima's was blank.
Tendou leaned to Ushijima to whisper. "Write a message next time."
"What kind of message?"
"Anything."
Tendou whispered, but Ushijima's voice failed to mimic him. Shirabu heard him loud and clear. He resumed ripping the papers, and he dropped them and returned to his seat.
"What's the point of being together if this is what's going to happen?" Shirabu asked.
"I don't want to do homework," Goshiki said. He slouched in his seat with a sigh that rustled his bangs.
"Tendou, don't you have a video game we can play?" Kawanishi asked.
Tendou waved his hand lazily. "I left them at home."
"You sounded like you had some here."
"I don't."
Kawanishi's eyes slid around. "Does anyone have a board game or video game in their dorm?"
"Nope." Goshiki rolled in his seat, turning to face Shirabu. "I'm cold. Do you have a blanket?" Goshiki didn't look at Tendou, but he reached his hand out to flail at him for attention.
Tendou tugged one out from under his pillow, unfolding it as he tugged and dropped it over Goshiki. "I do."
Ushijima's head tilted up. "Are you cold as well, Shirabu?"
"Why are you asking?"
"I'm not cold. I can offer you my jacket." Ushijima pulled his out from under a pillow and pushed it closer to Shirabu.
Shirabu hesitated. Warmth was already radiating from his head and neck, he didn't need to be warmer, but he moved to accept it.
"Here, let me help you." Ushijima scooted closer and draped it over Shirabu's shoulders and back. It fell over him in a soft rustling, descending in a wave of fabric and settling over his arms.
Ushijima pulled away. He left Shirabu to put it on himself, and he returned to sitting upright next to Tendou. He folded his legs to sit cross legged on the bed, tangling the sheets from shifting to a more comfortable position, and he brought a piece of paper in his lap. Ushijima started writing, scribbling with his leg as a surface to support the paper.
Shirabu slipped his hands into the sleeves. The jacket Ushijima handed him was his Shiratorizawa jacket, with crimson trim on the sides of the sleeves that highlighted the edges of his arms. Ushijima carried a lot of school spirit with him in his constant wear of Shiratorizawa sports clothes and his jacket. Outside of his school uniform, Shirabu rarely saw him in casual clothes or sweaters. His favorite clothing for cold weather was his jacket, so Shirabu knew that the deep warmth lingering in it came from its constant wear. The heavy scent clinging and clouding it hung low like mist and fog, everywhere and impossible to wade through. Shirabu breathed it in quietly and tugged the jacket closer over himself.
"It looks good on you," Ushijima said. Shirabu raised his head and found Ushijima staring back.
"I have my own that I wear. Often." Shirabu wrung the oversized sleeve hanging past his wrist. "It looks the same as mine."
Ushijima acknowledged his words with a nod and resumed writing. His concentration homed in on the page, and it gave Shirabu a feeling that Ushijima was genuinely studying. He wrote along the paper up to his knee and scanned the words as Tendou talked with Goshiki and Kawanishi.
Shirabu stuffed his hands into the jacket pockets and crossed his legs. He shifted in the jacket and tried to ignore the heat prickling in his neck and arms, but he couldn't take it, and he trudged to the window and leaned against it to absorb the cold.
Ushijima glanced up. "Is the jacket too big for you?"
"No. Does it look big?" Shirabu traced the bottom hem with his fingers. It came past his waist to his thighs, and the sleeves extended past his hands. He had to keep rolling them back while standing.
Ushijima's pen relaxed flat onto the paper as he stopped completely. "It suits you."
"It's not even his size," Kawanishi said.
Ushijima's eyes quietly flicked to Kawanishi.
"He doesn't know what to say," Tendou whispered to Kawanishi.
Shirabu pulled up half of the jacket's bottom to stay above his thigh, idling between wanting the jacket on and wanting to cool off. When he looked at Ushijima, he caught him watching, and he snorted. Ushijima still didn't say anything. He switched back to writing, and Shirabu leaned against the window in satisfaction.