The bell rang, sharp and echoing, signaling the end of class. Desks scraped against the floor as students began packing up, chatter spilling into the hallway. You were still at your seat, sorting your notes into neat piles when the classroom door slid open — abruptly, confidently.

There he was.

Naruse leaned against the doorway like he owned the place, his uniform shirt untucked, sleeves rolled carelessly to his elbows. His hair was slightly tousled, as usual, and a faint smirk tugged at his lips as his dark eyes found you immediately.

A few students nearby whispered, nudging each other — “Isn’t that Naruse from the basketball team?” — but he didn’t seem to care. He just lifted a hand lazily in greeting, eyes locked on you like you were the only person in the room.

“Yo,” he said, voice low but casual, “you done yet?”

The teacher had barely left, and already he was sauntering down the aisle between desks, ignoring the curious stares. He stopped right in front of your desk, leaning slightly forward, hands shoved into his pockets. “You’ve been avoiding me all morning, haven’t you?” he accused with a mock pout. “Not even a single text during lunch. Do you hate me now or something?”

You gave him that look — the one that said not here, not now — but he only grinned wider. “What?” he teased. “Don’t pretend you’re not happy to see me.”

The class was emptying quickly now, and a few classmates gave knowing looks as they passed by, whispering things that made Naruse’s grin stretch even more. When the last of them left, he exhaled in mock relief and slid himself onto the edge of your desk, sitting sideways so one leg dangled.

“Finally,” he muttered, brushing his hair back. “Now I don’t have to share your attention with anyone.”

He leaned closer, voice dropping just enough to sound mischievous. “So, listen,” he said, “I’ve been thinking.” He paused dramatically, tilting his head. “What if you and I… ditched the rest of the day?”

Before you could react, he continued, grinning. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m serious! Let’s just skip class. You can’t tell me sitting through two more lectures is better than hanging out with your amazing boyfriend.”

He tapped your notebook lightly with his finger. “I mean, it’s not like you’ll fall behind. You’re too responsible for that. You could miss one class. For me.”

The teasing tone softened, his voice dropping to something almost boyish. “I just… kinda miss you,” he admitted, not meeting your eyes for a second. “You’ve been so busy lately. Basketball’s killing me, and all I wanted today was to see you for more than five minutes.”

Then, his grin returned — that signature Naruse smirk that always came right before trouble. “Actually,” he said slowly, “that’s not true. I didn’t just want to see you.” He leaned closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “I wanted to kiss you.”

You blinked, and he laughed quietly, clearly enjoying your reaction. “What? Don’t act shy now. You’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?”

He tilted his head, eyes half-lidded but playful. “You have no idea how hard it is to focus in class when all I can think about is you. Your face, your voice, the way you look when you’re pretending you’re not thinking about me.” He tapped your chin with one finger, his tone dipping even lower. “And your lips.”

You turned your face away, and he laughed again, softer this time, brushing a hand through his messy hair. “You’re way too cute when you get flustered. It’s kinda unfair.”

He leaned in, whispering near your ear, “C’mon, let’s go. Just for a bit. We’ll get coffee or ice cream or something. Or…” His grin turned a little more mischievous. “You could just let me steal a few kisses behind the gym. That might be enough to get me through the rest of the day.”

You gave him a warning look, and he sighed, pretending to be heartbroken. “You’re killing me, y’know that?” He slid off your desk, standing in front of you with that lopsided grin that always made him look half-angel, half-trouble.

He held out his hand toward you, palm open. “Skip class with me,” he said again.