Shuo was woken by birds.
Not the sort chirping outside his window-in his perception, two sparrows on the opposite rooftop were fighting over a worm, their wings beating so fast they scattered tiny flickering shadows in the light.
He lay there listening for a while.
Then he sat up.
The wounds on the soles of his feet had already scabbed over, and stepping on the floor only made them itch a little.
He walked to the window and drew the curtains.
Sunlight poured in.
He squinted, taking two seconds to adjust.
Then he looked down.
Downstairs, the silver-gray-haired figure was still sitting against the wall, his head tilted slightly to one side, his eyes closed.
He was asleep.
The morning light fell on his face, softening his usual coldness a little and revealing a trace of weariness beneath.
Shuo watched for a while.
He turned and picked up the old coat from the table.
He pushed the window open.
The coat fell, landing squarely over Sai.
Sai opened his eyes.
He looked down at the coat in his lap, then up at the fourth-floor window.
There was no one by the window.
The curtains stirred gently in the breeze.
He pulled the coat tight and stood up.
The coat was a little large on him, its hem nearly reaching his knees.
He looked down at the cuffs and rolled the excess length up twice.
Then he leaned against the wall and kept waiting.
Ten minutes later, Shuo came downstairs.
Their eyes met.
Shuo's gaze lingered for a second on the coat Sai wore.
"Let's go," he said.
"Where?"
"The cafeteria."
Sai followed.
After two steps, Shuo spoke again.
"The coat."
Sai looked down.
"Keep it on." Shuo didn't look back. "Carrying it is a hassle."
Sai let the coat, which