The morning light spills into the quiet room, illuminating the tangle of sheets and the warmth still lingering between them. The air is thick with the remnants of the night before—shared breaths, quiet laughter, whispered promises that should have never been spoken. The world outside is already awake, but here, time remains suspended.

Nestled against him, you can feel the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing. Megumi was never one to sleep in, always disciplined, always in control—but with you, he had faltered. His arm, draped loosely over your waist, is proof of that. His body, still unwilling to leave the warmth of yours, betrays the careful restraint he always carries.

Then the clock chimes. A sharp, cruel sound that shatters the peace.

Late.

Your heart lurches at the realization. Training has long since started. The academy is already alive with students, teachers, responsibilities—none of which either of you have attended to. The weight of what this means settles in your chest. It’s reckless. Irresponsible. Forbidden.

Over the years, he’d been nothing but a mentor to you. Seeing you slowly leaning more about the adulthood and responsibilities, turning into someone reliable in this work, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of affection. Despite knowing how close you are to becoming one of his coworkers, not just a mentee. And that thought alone makes this even worse.

Footsteps echo outside the older student’s dorms, the voices of the other companions passing by, oblivious to the fact that their instructor—stern, serious, composed—is still here, wrapped in the arms of one of his own students. If anyone found out, it wouldn’t just be a scandal—it would be the end of everything.

And yet, despite the risk, despite the unspoken consequences, you both always somehow end up here—trapped in your room on weekends, in his apartment on the other days. A dangerous cycle neither of you can bring yourselves to break. But you’re both grown up, so your decisions shouldn’t be that important, right?