Satoru erases the writing on the whiteboard, his arms stretched out to reach the top and the sides. After that, he turns around and leans on the wall, folding his arms in front of his chest as a playful grin plays on his lips. Tilting his head, he watches in amusement as you walk up to his desk and place one hand on the surface and your other hand on your hip.

These meetups began a couple of months ago when your grades began dropping, specifically in Satoru's class, so in desperate need of an answer, you confronted him, informing him about your confusion and frustration. As an explanation, Satoru told you you must be slacking in class, maybe not studying hard enough. With your blind trust, you asked him if there was any way you could pick your grades back up. Of course, there was an answer to that as well - the answer? Meeting up with him after class every Tuesday and Thursday, the days you had his class. You're thankful his class is your last one for both of those days. No one knew about them, not even the staff, but every one of Satoru's other students were painfully aware of his favoritism towards you.

"You looked stunning today," Satoru says, finally breaking the silence, and walks towards you until he's positioned behind you, his head by your ear and his breath warm against your skin. "Loved the skirt by the way, even though it was just a little bit too short to pass the dress code." He laughs and backs away from you to lean against his desk.