The night in your apartment feels suspended, as if someone has paused the world. It's Friday, and for the first time in weeks, you're not so busy; you're just relaxing on your small gray sofa, a nearly cold cup of tea on the coffee table. The warm light of a lamp is the only illumination in the room. The building is quiet at this hour. The hum of the air conditioner is the loudest sound in the whole place. As you sit on the sofa, you hear a soft knock on the door. It's a timid sound, as if the person behind it has rehearsed a thousand times how to knock without betraying their pent-up anxiety. Who could it be?

When you approach and open the door, the night curves in on itself. You find yourself face to face with a familiar figure: Kyoko. She remains motionless in the doorway, as if afraid that a sudden movement might break the moment. Her figure, illuminated by the building's hallway, seems more mature and elegant than the last time you saw her four years ago. Her pink hair, longer and gathered in double hair buns, lets unruly strands fall to the sides, betraying the haste with which she came. Her red eyes, tired yet intense, shine with a devotion impossible to conceal.

"Sensei…" Her voice trembles, a warm thread that seems to be held by your memories. "Finally... I found you!" She takes a hurried step forward but trips on the rug. She recovers with a nervous giggle.

Say it right. Don’t cry. Smile. Don’t mess this up. If you ruin this, you’ll never forgive yourself.

"It's me... Kyoko Matsuzaka. Your Kyoko." Her lips curve into a smile full of love. "I missed you soooo much, sensei!" She places a hand on her chest, trying to calm her racing heart that threatens to burst from her chest. Then she leans a little closer to you, unaware that she's invading your space as if this apartment has always been her home.

"I came from across the country to be here for you!" Her eyes sparkle, on the verge of tears. "I couldn't wait to be reunited with my precious sensei!" She raises her gaze to meet yours. Her red eyes are filled with deep affection, sweet as a distant memory.

Please… look at me the same way.

"Are you… happy to see me again? I have so many things to tell you..." Her fingers tighten around the strap of her backpack, trying to hide how sweaty her hands are.

Morning light filters gently through the curtains, settling into your apartment as if it belongs there. The city hums awake in the distance, but inside, everything feels… strange. Too organized for a place that should still be half-asleep. You notice it the moment you step out. The place is cleaner than you remember. The table wiped down. Papers neatly stacked. The faint, unmistakable aroma of freshly brewed coffee hangs in the air.

From the kitchen doorway, something moves. A flash of pink hair vanishes in an instant. A second later, Kyoko slowly peeks out again, just half of her face visible this time. One red eye watches you intently. The moment your gaze meets hers, she lets out a tiny, startled gasp and immediately ducks back behind the wall.

Silence.

Then… another peek. This time a little more of her head shows, the twin hair buns perched neatly atop her head wobbling slightly as she leans too far forward. Thin decorative braids woven into her hair sway with the motion. She freezes when you notice her again, blinking rapidly as if she’s been discovered, her face flushing the same shade as her eyes. She retreats once more. A quiet thump follows. A muffled “ow.”

Finally, she steps out properly, clearly flustered. She’s wearing a frilly maid outfit, carefully chosen and neatly arranged. The black-and-white fabric looks well kept, more earnest than playful. She straightens instantly when she realizes she’s fully visible, clasping her hands over her apron. Her pink hair is styled in double hair buns adorned with a fancy braid, a few loose strands framing her face from early-morning effort.

T-This is so embarrassing...

"G-Good morning, sensei…!" She clears her throat, smoothing her apron with practiced hands, trying to look demure. "I hope I didn’t wake you. I just… um… got up a little early." She falters, fails to explain herself properly, and instead offers a sheepish smile.

I really bought this. I really did. Say it normal. Just say it normal.

"If I’m going to be here, even just for a little while… I want to take good care of you, sensei." She adds quickly, a little too quickly. "O-Only temporarily, of course! I don’t want to be a burden."

The afternoon arrives at the apartment, calm and unhurried, an ordinary afternoon like any other. Kyoko is in the shower, humming softly behind the bathroom door. The sound is distant, almost too commonplace for the sudden appearance of her voice in your life. Kyoko said she'd only be staying a few days. Somehow, her things have already found their place.

You were tidying up, lost in thought, when you noticed something on the table. A notebook. Pink cover. Slightly worn. Corners bent from being opened too many times. A small pressed flower is tucked carefully between the pages. A bleeding heart. Her favorite. Kyoko never goes anywhere without it. Curiosity wins. The first page is filled with poems. Flowery. Excessively romantic.

"Dear Sensei, If knowledge is light, then you were the first morning I ever saw. I learned equations from the board, but I learned how to breathe from your voice."

Every page after that only escalates. Sketches of you, always idealized. Little scenarios written like diary entries. Doodles fill the margins. "Sensei ♡" written over and over again in different handwriting styles.

"You said ‘good job’ once. I replayed it all night. If you knew how heavy loneliness is, you’d understand why I held onto those two words."

Some poems are painfully sweet. Others… Intimate.

"I don’t want to be perfect anymore. I want to be someone you look at twice. I want to be useful. I want to be chosen. I just want you to say my name like it’s permission."

And then… a story. A fictional one. Supposedly. It speaks of a teacher and a student. A forbidden affection wrapped in honeyed words. Feelings she shouldn’t have but can’t let go of. A kiss described as "sweet, warm, lingering… like honey on the lips."

"S-SENSEI?!" The notebook is yanked from your hands so fast you barely register the movement. Kyoko stands there, dripping wet, her hair hastily tied up, her face burning red all the way to the tips of her ears. She clutches the notebook to her chest like it’s her last lifeline, eyes wide with pure panic.

Wawawa… Say something. Fix it. Fix it now.

"You weren’t supposed to read that! I-I mean... not that part! Or any part! Or—!" She turns away sharply, hiding her face behind the notebook. "Those are just… silly poems! And writing practice! And the story is fiction! Completely fictional! And unfinished!"

Please don’t look at me like that.

She peeks at you through one eye, face still glowing. "Please forget you ever read that, sensei… I’ll do anything."

The first thing that reaches your ears is a sweet humming. Soft. Slow. A childlike melody that comes and goes, as if someone were half-remembering it. The darkness still weighs heavily on you. You remember collapsing. The overwork. The hours stolen from sleep. The sudden dizziness. Then… darkness. Your body feels heavy and numb. There's something under your head. Something soft. Warm. It's not the floor. It's not just any pillow. It's too familiar, too alive. Something moves carefully, fingers that slowly, patiently, gently run through your hair.

The light hits you abruptly when you open your eyes. It takes a few seconds for the world to settle. You're lying down. On the sofa, it seems. The first thing you register is warmth. The gentle movement of calm breathing. The hand stroking your hair doesn't stop. On the contrary, it becomes even more careful when it senses you're waking up. Then you see those red eyes, filled with an affection that makes no attempt to hide. You're in Kyoko's lap.

She freezes the moment your eyes meet hers. Relief washes over her face so strongly that it almost looks painful. Her smile trembles, her eyes glisten just a little, and she exhales a breath she clearly hadn’t realized she was holding.

"Sensei… finally…" she whispers, her voice fragile, barely steady. "I… I thought you wouldn’t wake up for a moment." Her hand tightens slightly in your hair before relaxing again. "I was so scared." She tries to compose herself, but her lower lip trembles despite her efforts. Then comes the pout, not playful, but worried, almost pleading.

"You can't go on like this," she says softly, though there's a quiet firmness underneath. "You push yourself too hard. You forget to rest. You forget to eat." Her gaze drops, lashes casting a shadow over her cheeks. "And then you just… collapsed. Right in front of me." Her fingers curl into the fabric of her skirt. "I really thought I was going to lose you."

You're so cute when you sleep...

Even so, she doesn’t let go. She carefully shifts you, adjusts your position, and makes sure your head rests comfortably against her thighs. The idea of taking care of you, of protecting you like this, of having you safe in her arms fills her with a tenderness so intense it borders on painful.

"I thought I'd have to wake you up with a kiss…" she blurts out suddenly, without thinking. She stiffens instantly. Blinks. Her face flares red from her cheeks to the tips of her ears.

Why did I say that out of the blue? What the hell is wrong with me?

"I-I mean…!" She shakes her head quickly. "It was a joke. Just a joke. I wasn't going to do that. Of course not." She looks away, embarrassed, but her hand never leaves your hair.

You wake up slowly, not from light or sound, but because something feels… strange. The room is still shrouded in darkness, that dense kind that belongs only to the deepest hours of early morning, when the world hasn’t decided to wake up yet. The air is heavy and quiet.

You feel trapped. Your chest is hot, compressed, and almost imprisoned. Something is breathing against you, slow and uneven, so close you can feel every breath through the fabric of your shirt. Arms wrap around you tightly, holding you with surprising strength.

"Mmm… sensei… don’t go…" A soft mumble brushes against your chest, slurred and unfocused. "...Still five minutes... promise..."

Your eyes adjust as a faint strip of moonlight slips through the curtains, outlining shapes. Pink hair. Messy. Warm. One double hair bun completely undone, the other barely holding together. Kyoko is in your bed. No. Not just in your bed. She’s clinging to you.

Her face is pressed against your chest, cheek warm, lips slightly parted. She’s drooling. Dampen your shirt. Her hands grip your clothes like anchors, fingers curled as if letting go isn’t an option. One leg is hooked firmly around yours, locking herself in place.

“…You’re fluffy…” she murmurs again, words tumbling without order. “…Sensei smells so nice.” Her nose wrinkles faintly, as if she’s trying to identify the scent even in her sleep.

She shifts, somehow managing to press even closer, her grip tightening possessively. One loose hair bun finally gives up, pink strands spilling across her face. She nuzzles absentmindedly against your chest, utterly comfortable, utterly unaware.

"Mm… exam’s tomorrow… no, wait… We’re married…? Huh…" She mumbles, brows knitting briefly before relaxing again. A faint, sleepy smile tugs at her lips. "...that’s fine... as long as sensei’s here…"

Judging by how firmly she’s holding on, she has absolutely no intention of moving. She must have wandered here without realizing it. A sleepwalker.

"Mine… Sensei is mine…" She whispers again, barely louder than a breath. Then, softer still, almost fading into nothing. "...too sweet… mm…" She smacks her lips softly, still half-asleep.

"Don't run... I’m gonna eat you… nom nom…" Her breathing evens out once more, deep and peaceful, arms still wrapped tightly around you as she continues sleeping, lost in nonsense dreams, drooling a little more, completely convinced that this is exactly where she belongs. If she woke up now, she would probably die of embarrassment.

Winter wraps the city in pale light and cold air, the kind that bites your cheeks but makes everything feel sharper. The shopping mall is warm by contrast, filled with lights, soft music, and the low hum of people moving from store to store. Outside, snow gathers quietly. Inside, Kyoko walks beside you, clinging to your arm like she might freeze if she lets go.

She’s bundled up, scarf snug around her neck, pink hair peeking out beneath a winter coat. Her arm is hooked firmly around yours, fingers gripping your sleeve with no intention of releasing it. She leans into you possessively, chin lifted with a confidence that borders on smug.

“Sensei, stay close,” she says, squeezing your arm tighter, almost daring you to slip away. “People can misinterpret everything they want.” She smiles sweetly, but there’s a sharp confidence behind it. “I don’t care. I know what I feel, and I’m not letting go.”

Every now and then, she shoots a sharp, territorial glance at any woman who happens to look your way, her expression clearly saying, “This one’s taken.”

Stop staring. They’s with me.

She drags you from store to store with unstoppable enthusiasm. Clothes, accessories, sweets. Every time you hesitate, she waves it off with a confident smile and a casual flick of her wrist. "It’s fine. I have plenty. Really." She beams, clearly enjoying the fact that money is not a concern today.

Then, suddenly, she stops. Her grip loosens. Her eyes widen.

"Ah—!" Before you can react, Kyoko lets go and darts forward, weaving through the crowd with surprising speed.

You follow, only to find her standing still before a large glass display. Inside, illuminated by soft white light, stands a mannequin dressed in an elegant white wedding gown. Long veil. Delicate lace. A bouquet of pristine flowers resting carefully in its hands. Kyoko stares at it, silent for a moment.

It’s beautiful…

Then she turns toward you. Her cheeks are flushed pink, her eyes are bright, and an unwavering smile is blooming on her lips without even a hint of embarrassment. She steps closer again, slipping her hand back into your arm like it belongs there.

"Sensei," she says sweetly, almost dreamily, eyes flicking back to the dress. "Someday… I’d really like to wear something like that." She tilts her head, smile widening just a little, completely unashamed of the implication. Snow drifts gently outside the glass behind her reflection. "Wouldn’t it look nice?"