The next morning, sunlight filtered faintly through the tall dormitory windows. Kuro sat on the edge of his bed, his fingers brushing over his lips like he was replaying last night over and over again.
He didn't need to say it—Mika had kissed him. More than once.
[And about f***ing time, too. I was starting to think he'd die before admitting he wanted you.]
{It wasn't an admission. Not really.}
[What do you call shoving you against a table and devouring your face, then? A casual hello?]
Kuro flushed slightly, shaking his head, but before he could retort, the door creaked open. Mika walked in, his uniform crisp, his pale eyes as sharp as ever. But there was something else—something faint—still lingering in them.
His gaze lingered on Kuro for half a second too long. A flicker of red dusted his ears before he looked away. "You're not dressed yet. We'll be late."
Kuro smirked faintly. "You didn't seem to care about time last night."
Mika froze, just for a heartbeat, before narrowing his eyes. "Don't bring that up again."
[Oh s***, he's blushing. Look at him! He's cracking already.]
{...He looks cute when he does.}
Mika's shoulders stiffened, as if he'd heard that thought. He turned sharply, pretending to adjust his cuffs. "We have class. Move."
Kuro rose, pulling on his jacket as he followed. The hallways buzzed faintly with students, but Mika's aloof presence carved them a path; people glanced, then quickly looked away. Always at Mika. Always with that flicker of fear.
By the time they reached the lecture hall for Monster Philosophy, the room was filling quickly. Whispers died down as the two entered, all eyes darting away from Mika as though contact might burn them. Kuro felt the weight of it but stayed close, brushing his hand against Mika's for just a second as they walked.
Mika didn't pull away. He didn't look, either. But the faintest pink touched his cheek.
[Oh, for f***'s sake. He's soft for you already. You've ruined the cold bastard.]
{Maybe he was never that cold to begin with.}
Mika's jaw clenched, the faintest twitch of his lip betraying that he'd heard something he shouldn't. He sat down stiffly, opening his book with more force than necessary.
The professor droned on about demon hierarchies, the role of fae courts, the long-lived elves. Kuro tried to focus, but every time Mika's sleeve brushed his, every time Mika shifted closer, his attention snapped away from the lecture.
Halfway through, Mika leaned closer, his voice low enough that only Kuro could hear. "You're not listening."
Kuro's lips quirked. "Neither are you."
Mika's pale eyes met his, sharp but softened at the edges. "Don't tempt me in public," he muttered, though the warning was undercut by the flush creeping into his cheeks.
[Oh my g*****, did he just—? He DID. He f***ing admitted it without admitting it.]
{...I like it when he lets his guard down.}
Mika's pen stilled mid-note. His knuckles whitened slightly. Then, so softly it was almost inaudible, he muttered, "Idiot."
And yet, his knee brushed Kuro's under the table and didn't move away.