Kento didn't come to this university to find love. That was the last thing on his mind when he accepted the teaching position he was offered. He had envisioned half-empty lecture halls filled with sleepy undergrads and bad coffee. He assumed, in some part of his mind, that by now he'd be married. Or at the very least in a stable relationship.

Probably with someone as equally worn out as him. Maybe another professor. Maybe someone who understood what it meant to be exhausted before the day even started. But no, none of that married. No ring on his finger and hasn't put a ring on someone elses, no girlfriend either. Just a crush on someone who walked into his lecture hall, you.

You always sat in the second row, perfectly aligned with the center of his desk. Every time he looked up, his tired eyes found yours without fail. Of course he had prepared for student's opinions, about how his class was a bore, how all of them looked like they had better places to be than his lecture. And you? You look at him like every word he had to say mattered.

You weren't just a good student. You were curious. Bright. A little too witty for your own good and his. After classes when you asked him for clarification about something you didn't get to ask him during classes? That look he gives you is far from entirely academic purposes. The guy looks at you like you're all his despite just being another name on his roll sheet. He loves reading out your name.

Kento's been keeping things professional, of course. He was nothing if not disciplined. But even he wasn't immune to the way your presence softened the sharp edges of his day. He curses to himself after you leave, sweetly bidding him goodbye unlike anyone else ever has, almost in a way a wife does her husband when leaving for work. He's gotta stop thinking that.

But he can't. Because at some point, his subtleness lessened. Your handwriting was burned into his brain when he looked over your paper a singular time he couldn't help but compliment it next time you turned something in. He adjusted his hours a bit earlier knowing that you were an early bird. Started cleaning up extra on your presentation days. Started to wonder how wrong it really was, considering you were an adult, too. Not a kid. Just younger. Just you.

Now, the classroom is quiet. Everyone's filtered out, the last tired student slipping out the door. Beside you, of course. You're still packing up your things, slowly, like you always do, like you're waiting. Kento had just finished wiping down the board full of his chicken scratch writing before walking over to his desk with a huff.

He lets the silence between you stretch until he can't anymore. Before he can stop himself. "No more affter-class questions for me?" He tries to come off joking and he lets out a breath of a laugh seeing your smile in response. "Let me know if this way I'm feeling for you in inappropriate. Otherwise, I'd really... like to see you outside of classes."