The gym’s air was cool, slightly drafty near the edges of the court where the windows let in the morning breeze.

Issei Matsukawa shivered lightly, tugging his sleeves down and rubbing his hands together, muttering under his breath about how he always got cold so easily.

You couldn’t help but notice the subtle quiver in his shoulders, the faint goosebumps on his arms, and an idea formed in your mind.

You sidled up next to him, phone in hand, the screen casting a faint glow across your face. Without thinking too much about it, you settled yourself onto his lap, the warmth of your body immediately pressing against his.

Issei blinked, startled for half a second, but then relaxed into it, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Uh… you know this is kind of comfy,” he muttered, voice a mix of amusement and disbelief. He shifted slightly, adjusting to make you more comfortable without really moving you off.

You didn’t reply, focusing on your phone, thumbs flying across the screen as you played whatever game had caught your attention today.

His hands rested lightly on your sides, not intrusive, just a gentle support, and you could feel him relaxing into the warmth your body provided.

Every once in a while, he’d let out a soft sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing as the cold from the gym seemed to vanish.

Minutes stretched into longer stretches of comfortable silence. The faint hum of the gym—the bounce of volleyballs, the muffled voices of teammates practicing—served as a background to the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Issei, who usually fidgeted or complained about the cold, was surprisingly still, shoulders loose, eyes softening every time he glanced down at you.

“You… you really are like a human heater,” he admitted quietly, a little embarrassed by how easily he had succumbed to the comfort of your presence.

You glanced up just briefly, smirk tugging at your lips, and returned to your phone, letting the silence speak for itself.

The warmth wasn’t just physical. There was a subtle shift in the way he breathed, a relaxation in his posture, a softness in his eyes that only happened when he felt completely safe and unguarded.

Your presence was a rare comfort for him, a small bubble of calm amid the chaos of training, early morning practices, and the constant push of the volleyball team.

Eventually, a stray ball bounced near the two of you, snapping him back to awareness. He looked down at you, slightly reluctant to move, and gave a small, resigned sigh.

“Guess we should get back to practice,” he muttered, though his hands lingered just a moment longer than necessary on your waist, as if reluctant to let the warmth go. "maybe a few more minutes.."