Okazaki Yumemi was missing—or at the very least, that's how it felt to him.
Yojuu Ryu's days of preparing lecture were becoming alarmingly more frequent. It was an unfortunate routine: On the days that he'd be heading the classroom, there would be a conspicuous pile of notes scattered across Okazaki's desk in her office, and Okazaki herself would be nowhere to be found—as if she had disappeared into thin air. Regardless, until she came back, Ryu would wait at the graduate lab every day until the janitors excused him to lock the doors. Some times, it would be days. But other times, it would be weeks. And every time Okazaki came back, her body would be thinner, or her eyes would be wearier—whatever the case, it was normal for her to return with physical afflictions. Each time, however, her rosy eyes would be alight in passion as she spoke wildly about "dimensional barriers" and "the other place." Frequently, too, would the professor demonstrate with rows and rows of whiteboards—on one particular day, she flooded the entire graduate lab's boards with equations and abbreviated theorems, only to be later scolded by the head of the department. "Public space! These whiteboards are public space!" he had cried.
Yojuu Ryu worried. Though Okazaki's increasingly frequent fits of physical intimacy tempered his anxiety, it wasn't enough—in fact, it was never enough. Perhaps absence did make the heart grow fonder. Whatever his turbulent feelings, it became obvious to Ryu that he was partial to Okazaki and extremely so. She kept dangling sweet temptations over his head until he realized that she had him under her thumb.
They had moved their acts of indecency to Ryu's one bedroom apartment. He found it hard to evaluate what was worse: the fact that they previously engaged in physical relations at the graduate lab, or that they had evolved to a more intimate environment. Now there was little in the way to distract Ryu from how she was casually talking off her shoes in his home, how her red blouse revealed bare collarbone, and how a loose strap beneath her top fell dangerously off her shoulder.
"Why do you do this," he said, turning away in modesty.
"Do what? This?" Okazaki said as she sauntered to his side to kiss him on the cheek. "Or this?" She leaned forward, closing her eyes.
Ryu couldn't stop himself from indulging her, so he humored Okazaki with an embrace. From there, he tilted his head slightly and pulled her closer, bringing their lips together. Okazaki laid her weight onto her assistant, leaning into the man as she wrapped her arms around him.
As they parted lips, Okazaki sighed and rested her head on Ryu's shoulder. "Carry me," she said after a breath. "To the bed, please."
He nodded without thinking, lifting her up into his arms. And as her feet kicked playfully into the air, Ryu found himself at odds with his own principles. He knew what he wanted. And he wasn't a fool—he knew what Okazaki wanted, too. He placed her gently into his bed. But before Okazaki could do anything to tempt him further, he shook his head and said, "This is probably enough."
"Is it?" Okazaki prodded him with a stray foot, still playing coy.
"No," was his immediate reply, though he meant to say otherwise. "You—You don't string along anybody else like this, do you?"
Ryu knew what he said to her was stupid, and he half-expected Okazaki to be upset at him for even entertaining such a stupid thought, but she didn't. Instead, she just looked at him like he was crazy—which was arguably even worse. But he was reluctant to continue this affair without some kind of confirmation. Yet his mind did not want to cooperate with his heart. So, his mouth spilled over.
"The moon," he let out.
Yumemi raised an eyebrow. "Sorry?"
The man felt his jaw slacken. "It exists," he said, lamely.
Ryu, he thought in shame, thy name is subtlety. Natsume Souseki would have spat in disgust.
"So it does?" The girl stared at him with a blank expression, observing him as she would a specimen, until she had a moment. She gasped, and quickly, her look of surprise deviated to a thin smile, as her eyes twinkled in realization. Yumemi took his hand and led the man out from his bedroom to his tiny balcony.
"The moon," she said, looking up to darkness. "Isn't it beautiful tonight?"
Ryu followed her gaze. The sky above was empty—not a single thing was in the air. The stars were enshrouded by city lights, and the moon was nowhere to be found. Still, antics aside, he found the confirmation he sought out for, and he lowered his gaze to the red-haired girl.
And he replied, "So it is."