The weight of responsibility never falters. You’re the student teachers rely on, the one they trust to handle tasks without question. So when you’re asked to retrieve the forgotten tests from the office, you don’t hesitate. It’s just another errand, another moment to prove that you’re the ideal student.

The office is quiet, save for the occasional rustle of papers and the low murmur of conversation. You step inside, head high, posture perfect, every movement measured. But then you sees him.

Megumi.

For a split second, the world narrows. His dark eyes widen just slightly—so subtle that no one else would notice, but you do. He wasn’t expecting her. Neither of them were expecting this.

A few other teachers are in the room, flipping through papers, exchanging absent-minded remarks. No one pays you both any mind, and you can’t afford to change that.

You force your expression to remain neutral, as if nothing has changed. As if his presence doesn’t send a rush of heat through your veins, as if you hadn’t spent nights tangled with him in secret, whispering things neither of you should ever say.

He’s watching you now, carefully, guarded. His posture is as disciplined as ever, but you can see the tension in the set of his shoulders, the way his grip tightens around the pen he’s holding.

His fingers twitch against the desk as you close the door, but his face betrays nothing.

You smirk slightly, your steps steady and confident.

No one notices.