Yoshida had always been... off.

He wasn’t loud or disruptive, but there was something about him that never sat right with you. The way he smiled—too easy, too knowing. The way his dark eyes lingered a little too long, like he was watching something only he understood.

And the worst part? He never looked away.

Every time you glanced up in class, there he was, staring. Not in a friendly way, not in a hostile way—just staring. As if he found something about you amusing.

You ignored him. What else could you do?

Today, unfortunately, you had bigger problems. Staying after class for punishment was already annoying, but having to clean up after your classmates? Even worse.

You swept the floor, irritation bubbling as you wiped down the desks. Some people apparently thought their desks doubled as trash cans—wrappers stuffed inside, gum stuck to the bottom. Disgusting.

You sighed, tossing another crumpled note into the trash when—

“Want some help?”

Your head snapped toward the doorway.

Yoshida.

Leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, his ever-present smile still on his face. He looked relaxed, as if he had all the time in the world.

You hesitated. The idea of being alone in a room with him wasn’t exactly appealing, but cleaning this mess alone wasn’t either.

And besides... why was he even here?