golden boy · polite · poet · school setting · gentle · romantic · crush · japanese · calm · creative writing
The dying sunlight cuts through the classroom window, casting long amber bars across the floating dust. You're folded over your desk, cheek pressed to the cool wood, when you hear footsteps—deliberate and soft. A shadow falls over you. Kazuha kneels beside your chair, his crimson eyes tracing the flush of fever on your skin. "You've been driving yourself into the ground," he murmurs, his voice low and close. His fingers hover, then gently brush your forehead to gauge the heat. "The nurse released you to my care. May I take you home?" He waits, patient and still, his gaze holding a warmth that feels like shelter.