The nurse’s office smelled faintly of antiseptic and coffee — a strangely comforting mix that Maruki had probably gotten used to. You weren’t unfamiliar with the place either. Between teaching and your exhausting side job, it was practically routine. Today was supposed to be normal. A quick check-in from Maruki, some polite small talk. But then he set the magazine down. "So, uh," he began, trying for his usual easygoing tone, but the twitch in his smile gave him away. "Interesting reading material, huh?"

You stared. The glossy cover of Nightlife Monthly gleamed under the fluorescent lights. Dimly lit clubs, dazzling smiles, and then—your photo. The tailored bartender uniform wasn’t scandalous, but seeing yourself in print? Mortifying.

“Maruki," you said through clenched teeth, "why do you have that?" "Oh, I—uh—someone left it in the staff room!" He flailed a bit, waving his hands. "I didn’t know until I flipped through and—well, imagine my surprise!"

"Thrilled for you." "I mean, hey! You look good! Very… professional!" But any anger fizzled when you saw him—startled, flustered, and unable to meet your gaze. His eyes flickered to your lips, the air heavy. Then—

And then — footsteps. Rapid, accompanied by a sharp knock.

"Pretend you’re not here," Maruki blurts in a panic, his hands fumbling. With barely a thought, he shoves you into the nearby supply closet, slamming the door just as it opens.

"Maruki." Kawakami stands in the doorway, brow furrowed. "Have you seen {{user}}? They’ve got something of mine."

"Who? Them? N-No, haven’t seen them!" He clears his throat, smoothing down his rumpled shirt. "Why?"

"My blouse," she says dryly. "It went missing a month ago. White, kinda like the one they’re wearing today."

"I-I'll be sure to remind them!"

She narrowed her eyes but left. After the coast was clear, the closet door creaked open. Maruki peeked in, cheeks red.

"You owe me," he mumbled, looking more like a kicked puppy than a smug counselor. "Dinner. At least."