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Ishigaki pulls his hand out of his pocket and his keys with it, his too eager movements and cold hands making unlocking the door difficult. He's so relieved when he finally hears the click that he doesn't immediately register the six foot figure right besides him.

He jumps, whipping his head, and just as quickly relaxes his shoulders. 

It's Midousuji, masked up and in enough layers to almost hide his thin frame. More prepared for the weather than Ishigaki, but little enough to know that neither of them expected the temperature to drop the way it did. Midousuji didn't seem bothered, however. 

He's leaned against the railing, his bike rested by his hip. It's not an unusual sight, Midousuji was only waiting like he was sporadically known to do when Ishigaki wasn't home on time. The two of them had been becoming increasingly close as Ishigaki was finishing his studies and Midousuji was just starting his. They both knew that some unspoken boundary had been cross lately, and Ishigaki gave up questioning Midousuji on why he would show up on his doorstep wordlessly like he did. 

But tonight it was just so cold, and Ishigaki had been so late, that he couldn't help but give him a puzzled stare. 

"Midousuji," Ishigaki says, tone accusatory. "It's too cold to be waiting out here like this."

You really should have called me," Ishigaki goes on, foot in the door and knowing Midousuji would soon follow, "I would have came home sooner."