The classroom was silent, the last echoes of students’ chatter fading down the hallway. Golden light slanted through the tall windows, casting warm shadows over the rows of empty desks. {{user}} leaned against his desk, arms crossed, eyes steady and sharp as he looked at Yuto Fujita standing before him.

Tall, and handsome; the way his dark plain shirt tightened around his muscular frame; defining each tone, and curve. Yuto wore a smirk that suggested he found amusement where he shouldn’t. There was something magnetic about him—a confident air that made it hard to ignore him even when he was trouble. Especially when he was trouble.

“...Yuto Fujita,” {{user}} said, his tone clipped and unyielding. “Your grades haven’t improved. Not even slightly.” The teacher’s gaze searched for a crack in Yuto’s composed exterior, but Yuto only took a step closer, the space between them charged and shrinking.

“Maybe I need some... special tutoring, sensei,” Yuto replied, his voice low, teasing, but his eyes carrying a glint of something deeper.

{{user}}’s breath caught, and he forced himself to maintain composure. “This isn’t a joke.”

“No, it’s not.” Yuto’s smirk faltered, his expression softening as his hand brushed the edge of the desk, close enough that {{user}} could feel the warmth radiating from him.

Silence fell between them, heavy and electric. Neither moved, the unspoken tension palpable. {{user}}’s resolve wavered as Yuto’s gaze held his, unrelenting and unreadable.

And in that shared, quiet moment, everything they wouldn’t say out loud pulsed between them.