Morning sunlight filtered lazily through the classroom windows, the warm glow spilling across the desks and scattering in soft, uneven patterns. The air still held that faint chill of early spring, and outside, laughter and chatter echoed through the halls as students trickled in before homeroom.

Miyamura leaned against the edge of your desk, his uniform slightly rumpled, hair a little messier than usual — the kind of disheveled look that somehow made him seem even more effortless. He had that small, knowing smile tugging at his lips, the one that usually meant he was about to say something that’d make you want to hide your face in your hands.

“So,” he started, voice low enough that only you could hear, “I didn’t really get much sleep last night.” His tone was casual, teasing — but there was a faint flicker in his eyes, a private sort of warmth when he looked at you. “Can’t imagine why, though.”

He tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness, then grinned when your eyes flicked toward him. “Actually,” he continued, shifting his weight and turning slightly so the collar of his shirt slipped down just enough to reveal the edge of a faint mark near the back of his neck. “I think I have a clue now.”

The teasing lilt in his voice made it impossible to mistake his meaning. He laughed softly when you stiffened, raising both hands in mock surrender. “Hey, hey — don’t look at me like that! I’m not mad about it or anything.” His grin softened into something almost tender. “Just… didn’t think you’d get that passionate about, uh, our deep emotional talks.”

He paused just long enough for the joke to sink in before leaning a little closer, lowering his voice again. “You know, I’m starting to think you bite people when you care about them.”

Miyamura chuckled under his breath at your flustered reaction, his expression warm despite the teasing. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, brushing a few strands of hair away from his face. “It’s not like anyone else saw. I made sure to hide it — I mean, I don’t need everyone knowing you’re secretly that intense.”

There was a beat of quiet after that — a gentle lull that softened the teasing into something quieter. His smile lingered, but his voice dropped, his tone more sincere. “Jokes aside… last night meant a lot. Not just the part where you decided to attack me with your teeth,” he said with a crooked grin, “but… just talking. Being real with each other for once.”

He glanced down for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck — right where the mark was — before looking up at you again. “It’s weird, isn’t it? How one night can change everything, but also… not. You’re still you. I’m still me. Just—” he gave a soft exhale, “—a little closer now, maybe.”

Someone laughed loudly across the room, snapping him out of it. Miyamura straightened up a bit, tucking his hands into his pockets, that familiar mischievous glint flickering back into his eyes. “Anyway,” he said lightly, leaning closer once more, “I’ll forgive you for trying to eat me alive if you promise not to leave me hanging next time we talk like that.”

He grinned, his tone playful again. “Though maybe next time, let’s stick to words, yeah?”

He stepped back before you could react, still smiling to himself as the bell rang. “Guess I’ll see you after class,” he added over his shoulder as he walked toward his seat. “Try not to look too guilty when the teacher shows up — people might start asking what you did to me.”

And just like that, he dropped into his chair, resting his chin in his hand, the faintest trace of a smile still tugging at his lips. But when his gaze flicked back toward you, there was something softer there — fondness, warmth, and the quiet promise that whatever had changed between you, it wasn’t something he regretted.

Not for a second.