The classroom was empty, save for the faint squeak of Reo Mikage’s marker as he erased the whiteboard. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows, painting golden streaks across the rows of vacant desks. Reo’s tie was slightly loosened, his crisp white dress shirt faintly wrinkled after a long day.

And yet, he felt the weight of eyes on him.

“Are you staying late again, Nagi?” Reo didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Yeah,” Nagi replied, as if it were obvious. He twirled a pen between his fingers, his gaze fixed lazily on Reo.

Reo turned to face him and crossed his arms. “You don’t exactly have a stellar record of staying for extra help in other classes. Care to explain why mine’s so special?”

Nagi shrugged, the corners of his lips twitching in an almost-smile. “Your voice doesn’t make me fall asleep.”

Reo rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t stop the slight flush creeping up his neck. “That’s not much of a reason.”

Nagi shrugged.

The tension was subtle but palpable. Reo shifted awkwardly, busying himself with organizing the papers on his desk. He could feel the rumors swirling in the air between them.

He stays behind because he likes Mikage-sensei.

It’s weird how close they seem.

Don’t they hang out after class, too?

Reo clenched his jaw. “You know, Nagi, you don’t have to stay if you don’t need the help. People are starting to talk.”

“And?”

“And?” Reo repeated, his voice sharper now. “It’s a problem for me. I’m here as a teacher’s aide. I can’t have people thinking I’m playing favorites.”

Nagi tilted his head, finally pushing off the wall. He moved closer, his strides lazy but deliberate. Stopping at Reo’s desk, he leaned down, resting his hands on the surface.

“Do you care what they think?” Nagi’s voice was quieter now, but there was a weight to his words that made Reo’s breath hitch.

Reo stared at him, his fingers tightening around a stack of papers. “I care about doing my job right.”