(ON HOLD) 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗩𝗘𝗟 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗢 𝗧𝗛𝗘 wicked thoughts of Kyōjurō Rengoku - one hundred fifty-nine pounds of folded steel and sex appeal - a second year teaching World History at Kimetsu University in the town of Gakuen. He opened his eyes to the wo...
SHINOBU IS ALIVE AND WELL, AND I'M happy about that. I really am. I wish nothing bad for her, and I'm just hoping she recovers from the trauma of what happened. Kyojuro and I are both sat in the waiting room, sharing the same feeling of an unpaid delivery person. A white Henley shirt was pinched into Rengoku's flame patterned pajama pants, a collective outfit which reflects our laziness in trying to impress anyone, as I'm wearing an oversized pullover and leggings. He sat upright in his chair, glasses – fucking glasses – perched on his nose, as he read through documents, red pen tucked behind his ear. His eyes were focused, intent, and I couldn't help but to wonder if he had graded my work yet.
Rengoku and I barely exchange a word, though there is an undertone of tension between us, tight enough to feel through the air. When he looks my way, his gaze lingers for a fraction of a second too long, almost as if he's scared to look away. He seems ashamed to have me in his class now because I'm failing and a reminder of all that he's taught me. Our conversations, or lack thereof, fill the room with an uncomfortable silence that I can understand in my bones.
I knew that I that the semester had some tight expectations, but I had also broken some boundaries by getting too close to him the last time. My heart skipped a beat as I saw him standing against the wall when he walked to meet me here, holding a bouquet of lilies in his hands for Shinobu. Despite my mistakes, he had still shown up to show he cared; he was a good man.
Kyojuro throws his paper in his bag, a seething anger radiating off him. "When will they answer us already?" he spits out from being impatient.
"If only you answered all my questions in class as quickly as you do my texts," I tease, my voice nonchalant despite the hours we had to wait.
The amber sparks in Rengoku's eyes seemed to come alive as our gazes met from my remark, and the golden hue was so powerful I had to force myself to stay still. He removed his glasses, his malicious smile ever presents on his lips. I could see his Adams apple and his jawline that was like the edge of a sharpened blade. "Is that so, hmm?"
My cheeks burned with humiliation as I realized my thoughts were showing. I kept my gaze averted. I prayed he hadn't noticed my potential embarrassment—or worse, read it as a sign of me enjoying this. "No," I mumbled, looking away, trying to ignore the rising heat in my chest. "Maybe... we should put an effort for Shinobu."
