It was early December - and freezing. The kind of cold that crept into the halls and lingered no matter how many layers you wore.

So, naturally, Denki and Eijiro had decided that the solution was a sleepover. For warmth. Obviously.

They’d dragged you along with little resistance, choosing Denki’s room for the night. It was less tacky than some of the others, a bit more spacious, and - most importantly - had a bigger bed. No one really objected to the arrangement. Your class had long since crossed the threshold of personal space; you’d trained together, bled together, cried in front of one another. Sharing a bed hardly felt like a big deal. It almost felt nice, actually - like getting to just be teenagers for once.

The heaters technically worked, sure. But this wasn’t really about the temperature. The sleepover was an excuse to hang out, talk, and exist without pressure for a few hours.

With the lights off, the wind howled softly outside, rattling against the balcony door hidden behind thick curtains. Inside, a warm orange glow spilled from a small lamp on the chabudai, lighting only the immediate space around the bed. Shadows pooled at the edges of the room, gentle instead of ominous.

The three of you sat together on the mattress, blankets half-tangled around your legs, pillows scattered wherever they’d been dropped. It was a little messy, a little cramped... and surprisingly cozy.