Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss.

His mouth ached.

Shouta Aizawa looked over the horizon of his lecture hall, gazing at the mountains of different colored heads as saliva pooled in his mouth. Hunger was bad enough, thirst was even more unbearable, but the combination of the two itched so deep that his teeth felt it down to the very nerve endings in his jaw. At first, he could combat the feeling clawing in his throat by chewing on the inside of his left cheek. He could deal with the numbers – the various smells all acidic and tangy, cool and bland, dry and bitter lingering in a hodge podge in the air – and Shouta never once doubted his ability to ignore his own impulses until the door opened one final time.

Peaches. She smelled like peaches. He could always tell what students had eaten before coming into his class. The smell would linger in their blood for hours, never changing the base scent entirely, but rather enhancing or diminishing it. The girl – the woman – that had walked into his lecture hall smelled best of them all, an aroma that drove him mad, redolent of deep spices and salty, magnifying the already metallic scent and taste of blood. She took her seat at the front of the class, always at the front of the class, before she looked up at him with a shy smile.

Her scent blasted him in the face when Shouta made an effort to breathe in front of his students, and he stepped away from her, fully aware of the slight falter in her features as he made his escape from her. In all honesty, she was a lovely girl and an even more delightful student. Shouta hadn't been an instructor in eons, not since he taught in the emperor's house centuries beforehand, but she was exactly the type of pupil he'd enjoyed: studious, polite, responsible.

And, oh so, very eager.

"Professor," her voice called above the others, and he noted how small it sounded in his presence. The girl was anything but quiet. He'd heard her argue in his colleagues' classrooms, heard her throw fits on her fellow classmates in the master's department. She'd nearly bashed his skull that night when Yumi had no idea that he had been the one who attacked her. Shouta had been used to people cowering in his presence, but something about the way this little woman became so twitterpated in his presence bothered him. The deer should be afraid of the lion that could kill it.

And she'd gone and fallen in love with him.

"I need my test from when I was recovering. I didn't take it, and midterm grades are coming up and—"

Shouta fought the urge to gag as she walked up to him right as he decided to inhale. Really, if he didn't need to keep up appearances so badly, he wouldn't worry about it, the activity caused him more trouble than it was worth. He tucked his chin deeper into his scarf, thankful for many of the excuses colder weather provided him with before dismissing her with a wave.

"Don't worry about it. I passed you. Now, sit down."

"But, sir—"

He launched into teaching after that, some lecture about vampires that came from sources that Shouta knew were only half correct, and the young woman dropped her head at the sound of his voice, her pen only doodling at the paper rather than taking notes on what he was saying. Although Shouta did his best to concentrate on his teaching, his eyes would slip away to Yumi every so often only to find her with her face buried beneath her indigo hair, her chocolate eyes slipping towards him every so often. He hated the look she gave him – that look of quiet confusion that she often leveled towards him whenever he was cross with her – and, despite the rumors whispered in bathrooms and hallways, Shouta did not like alienating himself from these humans. Being in this school only reminded him of how different, how inhuman, he was in comparison to these fragile souls.

He chuckled to himself. Soul. He didn't even know if he had one of those anymore.

Lecture dragged on for its normal two and a half hours, and Shouta supposed that was the one thing that he liked about Fridays. He only had to see Yumi for two and a half hours before she disappeared into the dormitories to do her work, and the only time he heard from her again was Saturday mornings when he'd run into her in the library. She would never eat breakfast, evidenced by the lack of enhancement in her warm blood, and the meetings were fleeting little rituals that were tolerable.

Finally, the campus belltower chimed five o'clock, and the students began to funnel out before Shouta could dismiss them, a gesture that would normally provoke him if he weren't hoping that Yumi would funnel out with the rest of them and take her vibrant scent with her. His students left in droves, the smell in the room funneling from the lecture hall until one fragrance remained.

And it was the most deadly of all.

At max capacity, the lecture hall contained enough smells that Yumi's blood was blanketed in with hundreds of other scents, and, while Shouta could never get away from the aroma entirely, the other bodies provided enough distraction. However, alone with her in this large room, Shouta could do nothing more than clench his teeth while his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as her scent tormented him. "What do you need?" he nearly spat in her direction, doing his very best to keep calm. Yumi approached him, the subtle sway of a perfectly wound curl sending his mind reeling as she approached. Maybe one little whiff of her hair would be enough. One smell. That's all he needed. He allowed her to get near him, taking in a quiet breath through his nostrils, his chest rising.

A horrific idea, really.

"Doctor Aizawa, I really, really would prefer it if I took my exam," she replied before her words all faded into an incoherent oblivion as the light aroma of peaches and crisp, warm bread filled his nostrils. One of the sororities sold peach tarts in the student center on Fridays, and, damn it all to hell, Shouta could still detect the soft scent of the peaches so tangibly it was like he shoved his face into the smooth fruit and felt its fuzz. Shouta exhaled, the sound much more resembling a grunt than a breath, and the girl stopped talking once he did so, her eyes fluttering up to his through thick, dark lashes. "I–Is that a problem?"

"No," he murmured, though he felt more like sobbing the word out. Anything to get her out of his lecture hall and as far away from him as possible. He brought a large palm up to cover his mouth and buried his nose into it as though the gesture would do anything to block the scent. "That will be fine," he continued, not even fully aware of what he'd just agreed to. She smiled.

"Thank you," she breathed, "it's just…well, I…some of the others didn't really think it was fair and—"

"Watanabe," he cut in, decidedly unable to handle one more millisecond in her presence, "I don't have time to talk right now. I have somewhere I need to be. Now, have a good day." Before she could utter a word in response, Shouta hastened from the room, breaking into a full run the second he was far enough away from her.

"So he just ran out of the room like an idiot?"

Yumi nodded, her indigo hair bouncing against the receiver as she balanced the telephone between her cheek and shoulder. "Yeah…I really don't think he likes me, Mami." A voice blustered on the other end, muffled as Mami spoke back to it, and Yumi couldn't discern whether it was her boyfriend or one of her female friends. She didn't really care either way.

"So what if he doesn't?" Mami questioned returning to the receiver, "sorry. Hiro needed something." Yumi shrugged, pulling her feet onto the couch as she once more adjusted the telephone. "There's plenty of boys back home, not to mention the fact he's a professor, Yumi." Yumi shushed her, biting her lip and turning red despite the miles of distance between them. "Oh my God, Yumi," Mami muttered in response, "Hiro doesn't care about your love life. He's probably not even listening." Yumi held her breath before sighing.

"I just don't want Mom to find out."

"Hiro's not going to tell on you," Mami groaned, "and neither will I as long as you don't do something stupid." Mami paused in that way Yumi had grown to despise since telling her sister about her new professor before adding, "You aren't doing something stupid, are you?" Yumi sighed, her eyes drifting to the setting evening sun through her apartment window.

"No, Mami, I'm not."

"Good," Mami replied almost instantly, "do you have the grades you need to pass his class?"

"Yeah…"

"Then I don't see what the problem is," Mami stated, "as long as he doesn't start failing you for no reason, then who cares if he doesn't like you?" Yumi nodded, the knot in her throat tightening.

"Yeah, you're right," Yumi replied, forcing her voice to be steady and not to sound like she was on the verge of tears. However, for all Mami's harshness, she was equally as perceptive and sighed.

"Listen," she said in a much softer tone, "he only teaches vampirism right? And you only need one class in that, don't you?" Yumi nodded to both, giving a vague hum to signify her affirmation. "Then you never have to see him again after this year, so don't worry about it." Yumi gave a small reply of "okay" before she heard Hiro's voice pipe up in the background once more. "Listen, I promised Hiro I'd go see a movie with him. Call me tonight if you need, but don't worry about your stupid professor, alright?"

"I won't."

After an exchange of goodbyes, Yumi pressed her pastel green phone into its receiver before tugging her legs up to her chin. Mami didn't understand, although Yumi supposed she couldn't really blame her. Yumi had refrained from telling her friends on campus about her infatuation with their vampirism teacher out of embarrassment. If her own twin didn't understand, how could she expect anyone else to? Her clothed feet hit the floor, warm both in her socks and against the plush carpet as she walked over to the window and peered out of it, listening as the wind whistled through the barren tree branches.

Yumi listened to other people far too much. Of course, Professor Aizawa would have passed her for midterms without a second thought. She'd been attacked by a vampire for God's sake. Any decent person would have done something like that. It wasn't her fault the incident had happened. Nevertheless, Yumi knew that Professor Aizawa's midterm pardon wasn't the only reason the students were talking – it was merely the byproduct of weeks of observation.

Yumi had never been good at concealing her emotions, and anyone who was around her during vampirism could figure out the depths of her infatuation for her professor. What had started as a running joke among the graduate studies student body, however, quickly turned into resentment the second everyone in the class received the results of their first exam, with many students claiming that Professor Aizawa preferred her to everyone else in the class. What was even worse is that everyone except Yumi seemed to be thoroughly convinced of the idea as well.

Oh, Yumi had heard the excuses, the explanations, the reasons all before. She'd laughed when a colleague pointed out that Professor Aizawa never took his eyes off her, and her only rebuttal had been that she would believe it the day she made eye contact with him and he didn't avert his eyes. She'd rolled her eyes the day someone mentioned that he gave her the most attention out of the whole class. She'd outright scoffed when she overheard other teachers mention with actual concern that Professor Aizawa looked at her as though he could and would devour her any second.

Silliness, Yumi had thought, outright madness. The only thing Professor Aizawa looked at her with was disdain. The others were just jealous. That's all it was. The man hated her, and Yumi didn't even know why.

Her eyes drifted to the clock, ticking away until it was only fifteen minutes until six o'clock, and Yumi sighed, gathering her bag from the floor along with her keys. It was better to leave now. Yumi couldn't think of a better way for the man to despise her more than being late for her makeup exam.

Shouta swore he could still smell those godforsaken peaches.

Within seconds of entering his office, Shouta had slammed the door into the wall, locking it with trembling hands before burying his forehead into the mahogany. Despite the fact Shouta did not need to breathe, he closed his eyes and took deep, shallow, haggard breaths through his mouth for no other reason than to cleanse the scent from the back of his throat. He remained there, forehead pressed against the door as sweat poured from his icy body, and the desire to wretch built in his throat. Saliva pooled in his mouth in thick strands from the roof of his mouth to his tongue before he swallowed hard. He remained like that for minutes until finally the ache in his jaw and tongue subsided enough that he could extricate himself from the wood and collapse onto the floor.

His black hair hung about in clumps around his face, the half bun at the back of his head pushing into his skull as he leaned his head against the door. He had to eat tonight. Something horrific would happen if he didn't, something worse than what had already happened with the girl. He covered his face with his hands, hoping his own scent would counteract hers. He'd eat some birds, maybe a stray animal if need be. Animal blood was nothing but a piss poor substitute for that of a human's, but a beggar can't choose a feast when scraps are his only option. It would have to be enough to satisfy him.

Shouta remained on the floor, her aroma leaving him little by little. He'd always been attracted to savory tastes even as a human, and her blood only reminded him of the curry bread he'd enjoyed in mortality. The other vampires he'd been able to converse with over the centuries held that the best human blood was sweet – gentle like a dessert and never overpowering – but Shouta had never been one for confection. Perhaps it was the fact that her blood was so unpopular that drove Shouta to the point of madness. She was a little delight – appealing and special all for him and only him.

He began to salivate again, and Shouta shoved all thoughts of the blue haired girl who sat at the front of his classroom from his mind. He'd do something stupid if he didn't.

Shouta rose to his feet, going over to his desk and sitting in his big leather chair as he examined the various test papers, essays, and God knew what else littering his workspace. For someone who only intended to stay for a few weeks, he'd become quite busy in his new vocation, and Shouta would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the position just a little. He'd always been drawn towards the educational field, and there was something special about enriching student lives with his own knowledge. Most of his students were lazy little pricks who only came to UA on mommy and daddy's money, but there were a few among his ranks that, if circumstances were different, Shouta would have befriended.

He thought about the student who got into fights with the fraternity boys who thought they knew everything before he realized that was Yumi. His mind then conjured up images of the student who always told him good morning and good evening in the sweetest little voice before realizing it was, once again, the same girl. When his mind recalled the student who always shoved her pen into her indigo curls, perfectly messy and always bouncing with the slightest movement, Shouta shoved all pleasant memories of his job away and thrust his neck back against his chair, hoping the plush leather would somehow crush his skull. Maybe she was the only one he paid any attention to after all.

Her blood. Her blood was tantalizing. That's all it was. Shouta wouldn't allow himself to believe any differently. Nothing good would come of it anyway. Not a single damned thing would be worth the trouble.

Shouta almost yelled when someone knocked on his office door.

Enraged, Shouta took to his feet, his black Brandy leather shoes creaking against the floor as his hand grabbed the doorknob so tightly he nearly tore it from its fixture. One rule, he had one damned rule that he expected these little urchins to respect.

Don't bother me after my last class. Come during office hours or don't come at all.

Shouta didn't even catch the aromatic peachy smell until the door opened its first centimeter, and, immediately, Shouta shoved the door closed. "What do you want?!" he demanded to the girl on the other side, his forehead already breaking into a nervous, cold sweat as he held his hands against the door. What is she going to do? Break down the door? Idiot.

Her little voice piped up from the hallway, muffled by the wooden structure. "I-I'm here for my makeup exam," she called, confusion palpable in her voice.

"What makeup exam?!"

"I–The one I asked you about, sir!" Yumi replied, "we talked about it earlier? You said I could come in…" Shouta's eyes went wide at the declaration, his brain retracing every step until the point he reached his office. It must have been back in his classroom when she was babbling to him about her midterm. He dropped his head forward, his hair falling in front of his face, and he sighed. He had no one to blame for this but himself. His fingers twisted the lock on the door again, and he peered his head out just enough for a silver eye to see the young woman standing in the hallway.

"Can we do this some other time," he hissed, "something came up, and I really don't have time for this." Shouta's harsh words were met with a quick blink, her eyelashes batting at him in confusion before she tipped her chin down.

"Professor, I really, really want to get this done," she pleaded, "you don't understand."

"It can wait, Watanabe."

"Sir, please! Some of the students are threatening to go to the dean if you don't let me do a retake!" Shouta's hands dropped, the strength easing from the appendages as his fingers slid down the door. Concern shot through him, his eyes softening as his jaw went slack out of Yumi's view. He remained still, his eyes still giving her a penetrating stare.

"What do you mean?"

"The others are convinced that you're playing favorites," she stated, "I know it's crazy, but they think it's unfair that you passed me for midterm without testing me." Shouta nearly growled at her words, slinking back into his office fully. "C-can I come in?" Yumi questioned.

"No," Shouta barked at her, "wait there." Once out of her view, Shouta pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and lifted his head up to the ceiling. Leave it to a bunch of spoiled college students to come up with the idea that the top student was only passing because he was sweet on her. Great. Just great. His gunmetal eyes dropped back to the cracked office door as his lungs didn't even dare to breathe.

Maybe things would be fine. He could take her to the lecture hall or the library and administer the test. He could even sit behind his podium and hide the fact he wasn't breathing. He'd spent centuries concealing his identity around humans that tantalized him before. What was an hour?

He could do this.

Shouta straightened his suit jacket and slid some of the messier strands of his hair back behind his ear before he returned to the door and slid it open, stepping into the hall to find her skipping around on the different colored tiles on the floor, and, for a second, he almost smiled. At the sound of the door closing, Yumi lifted her head, those dark blue curls bouncing absently around her cheeks before she straightened, her hands going behind her back as though she were embarrassed, and Shouta already began to regret his decision. "Make this quick," he rasped, walking ahead of her by several feet while Yumi turned and began to follow with little quickly-timed steps. Although she made several attempts at small talk, Shouta only responded to her prattling with one word responses or noises, not wanting to open his mouth very much. Although he could still smell the scent of peaches, the smell was tolerable, ignorable even if he tried hard enough. In fact, Shouta didn't have any problems with getting through the hallway.

It was the last few feet before they reached the testing room.

Yumi ran ahead of him, something Shouta didn't exactly have a problem with in and of itself. As long as she remained a few good feet away from him, Shouta didn't mind where she was. He didn't even mind her getting the door for him, until her indigo curls bounced behind her, the strands of hair flicking toward him at close proximity. The remnants of the motion hit Shouta in the face, the smell intoxicating, and his eyes nearly rolled back into his skull, every instinctual muscle in his body activating at that point.

In mere seconds, Yumi's back collided with the wall, and Shouta's face lingered mere inches from hers, and, if she didn't know any better, she would have sworn the man grew five inches taller. His left arm pressed into the wall by her head, locked into place by his elbow, and, if Yumi had dared to look up at it, she would have seen how his fist trembled against the sheetrock. His right hand grasped her shoulder, his fingers digging into the flesh of her collarbone and pushing her further against structure. Yumi couldn't pay any attention to the position of his hands, however; her eyes were locked against his, petrified by the sight before her.

While Yumi had never gotten a detailed look at the planes of his face this close, Yumi knew for certain that his eyes were silver, maybe blue under certain lighting. Right now, his irises glared blood red down at her trembling body, and she couldn't describe the look on his face as anything other than animalistic. If this was how he looked at her when she didn't meet his gaze, Yumi finally understood the teacher's whispers in their break room.

This was the face of someone who wanted to consume her.

Yumi almost said his name, made some attempt to speak beyond the fear choking her, but not even the tiniest of sounds would escape her lips. Fortunately for her, despite whatever rage he'd entered, he still retained enough of his senses to talk.

"Get away from me," he rasped out, his own voice weak with an emotion Yumi couldn't

exactly describe, "please. Before I do something I regret." He backed away from her a step, and, while Yumi knew the smartest thing to do would have been to run, she only remained frozen to her spot, her eyes studying him with concern.

"Sir?"

"Watanabe," he snapped, "go!" Yumi moved, finally having the sense enough to obey, but the seconds of delay cost her when Shouta reached for her and shoved her back into the wall, this time shoving his face deep between the juncture of her neck and her shoulder. Despite all of the lectures he'd given about the subject, Yumi didn't attempt to jab him in the abdomen or singe him with the silver he'd made all of the students start carrying since the attack. She only tensed in his hold, her limbs ragdolling against him as her breathing picked up in short, panicked puffs of air. Shouta wanted to shake her, chastise her for not paying enough attention to what actually mattered during class until he realized why on earth would she?

Until now, he'd been nothing but human – a rude, miserable little human.

Even through the sweater she was wearing, Shouta could smell the peaches emanating in her blood, right along with that salty, savory scent he adored so much, his own little five star meal with dessert flowing right through her blood as though she'd been considering this. He breathed long, heavy, and deep, every muscle in his body tight, the veins popping in his neck and arms. His fingers trembled as his hands slid up her back and neck and into those curls he loved so much, the hair he often wondered the length of time it took to fix. It was just him and the little barrier of white fleece separating him from what he so badly craved. His teeth slid out, fully prepared to puncture through the fleece, his mind a whirlwind of desire and oncoming regret until something penetrated the storm in his brain.

"Professor Aizawa…?"

His eyes snapped open, his throat raw and dry as his teeth hung mere millimeters from her skin, his canines already snapping some of the strands in her sweater and so close to breaking skin. The sound of her voice, soft, scared, panicked but still so hushed pulled what little humanity remained in him from the torrent, his eyes regaining focus from the glossy state they'd entered. He hadn't done it yet. As much as he so badly craved the liquid flowing in her veins, he still had a chance to walk away from this and return to somewhat normalcy.

Somewhat.

Shouta pushed his mouth closed, a great task considering his jaw became somewhat locked during a feast, and he ripped himself away from her neck. His left hand clutching her shoulder as his right hand gripped her chin and yanked her towards him, apathetic towards how rough he was being at this very moment. Her brown eyes were wide with fear and…something else he couldn't quite figure out swirling in those brown irises, and he hardened his stare as his thumb pinched her chin harder. "If you know what's good for you, you won't set foot in my lecture hall again. Better yet, you'll drop my damned class," he warned, "you have…such greater things to worry about than a bunch of nosy adults." Before she could even respond, Shouta pushed himself away from her, disappearing down the hall at an inhuman speed until he escaped down a stairwell, avoiding his office entirely. Yumi fell back a few steps, ultimately catching herself before she could hit the floor, her lungs struggling for air as her face and body burned. She watched him disappear, her hands trembling at her sides until she ran for the main door, her mind only able to form one coherent thought:

What on God's earth had just happened.