The little girl from the hospital does show up the next day. Thankfully it's after school. Unfortunately, it's during practice, while I'm crawling through the rafters, spiderwebs clinging to my hair and a screwdriver shoved between my teeth. I'm in the middle of hanging the stupid spotlights when she shows up with Mirio of all people in tow, and, of course, Midoriya trailing behind.

Isn't he supposed to be in practice?

I don't know how I feel about it.

Especially when everyone just sort of stops working to gather around and greet her.

I don't.

Busy actually doing my job, I glower, overtightening one bolt and nearly splitting the wood on the other. The others below ohh and ahh. Acting like they're parading around a stupid dog. I consider the next light and whether or not I'd be able to start it alone…

"Where's Hoki-chan?" Midoriya's voice carries.

"Oh, probably hiding in the rafters. You know how she is about new people."

I'm going to strangle Sero.

I'm going to string him up by his stupid tape and-

"Oh? Huh… Well, that sucks… Eri-chan was really hoping for a chance to see her!"

She… what?

"Well, maybe if you yell for her, she'll come?" Ojiro offers.

My eye twitches.

Excuse me?

"Yeah! Oh, but you should probably shout Rin though," Sero agrees, and I don't even need to look down to know he's got one of those stupid shit-eating grins. "She's not a big fan of Hoki-"

Absolutely not! I roll out of the rafter at once, my quirk sprouting behind me into thick, burgundy-red wings. I'm pretty sure everything else is a tomato. My skin is a tomato.

I scowl, slowing my descent and landing heavily with a thump.

Most of the special effects team giggles. Sero looking like Christmas has come, Ojiro with his stupid tail in front of his face, and Kouda ducking his head. Todoroki, probably the only one not being annoying, slips a little smile.

I glower at the lot of them, absolutely done.

Mirio—damn it I have spiderwebs in my hair—drops his jaw and does a sort of over-the-top clap. It reminds me of Power and naked, unnecessary poses. I shrink, face hot. I don't even know what to say. Why am I even here?

I turn to the silver-haired kid, desperate, wishing my quirk did something actually useful like teleportation—or make me disappear.

Dressed in white and red, the little girl blinks back wide-eyed. Fingers curled into Mirio's jeans, half-hidden behind his legs.

She looks the same way from the hospital. Blank stare, contemplative. Quiet.

Quiet like trying to go unnoticed. Like mildew beds and broken flashlights and packed suitcases ready in the night. Midoriya, clearly noticing none of this, steps forward with a smile.

"We're showing Eri-chan around the campus! Eri-chan, you remember Hoki-chan, don't you?"

"You remember young Rin, right? We're fostering her at the moment."

The memory of Mrs. Takamura hits me unexpectedly, and I flinch at the familiar words.

They take me to different places, different ceremonies, parties, and celebrations-

I suppress the thought with a grimace.

"Oh… uh… um hi. It's… It's very nice to meet you," I lie, uncomfortable and already stepping back. Their concerned glances feel like barbs, and I bow stiffly, feigning polite as the wings at my back darken and chip away.

Their ragged length flutters against my shins as I rise.

"I… I have a lot to do, though, so if you'll excuse me."

The words almost even manage to come out right, the end cracking lamely.

With a fake, pointed smile I turn, twisting on my heel. No one calls me back, and I make it entirely past the door before warm sun slips kisses against my face and cool wind blisters my cheeks. I… I stumble, the world blurring in tears, and manage two or three footsteps before slumping, back scratching as I slip down rough bricks.

This is the first stage in the plan for UA to take guardianship.

Why?

Why couldn't it be anyone else?

Eyes squeezing close, I swallow the sob threatening to rise, fist pressing against my lips.

I didn't want her here. Didn't want to have to choose—to change anything.

Things had only just started feeling real.

Why does she have to come and ruin it?

Lifting the fingers, I let them curl into my hair, nails scratching into my scalp. The memory of silver hair and an innocent face smiling when I close my eyes. I manage a shuddered, suffocating breath.

"R-Rin-chan?"

There's a sound, almost like a crash as the door closes back. I don't look, throat tight as shy Koda shuffles closer.

Watching me cry over nothing.

"I-I'm fine," I whisper. "It's- It's fine- I'll-"

"Do… Do you mind if I sit with you?"

I fold over limply, fingers untangling. I gulp down deep breaths, choking on emotions as my arms slip down around my stomach.

"D-Don't c-care."

Tears run and drip down my nose.

The stale taste of my breath hot against my lips.

Koda settles quietly, his larger frame only an arm's reach away.

He doesn't speak.

Silent, except the loud chatter of birds.

So I don't… I don't really notice, not until something wiry and furred brushes against my leg.

I jerk, head snapping up and-

And a fox stares back.

Orange-colored face set with a white jaw and gazing back with dull, yellow-slitted eyes. My breath catches as it nuzzles against my shin, nearly twice the size of Miska with ears tipped in black and a fluffy orange tail just big.

I've… I've never seen a fox this close.

"He'll… He'll let you pet him," Kouda mumbles.

I blink over, just as astonished to find him covered in squirrels. Two settle on his shoulders, one nestling on his head, and a tiny one chatters on his knee. He strokes that one gently, large fingers easy as they pass over its tiny head. I sniff and turn back, still just as dumbfounded to see a fox.

It yips, rubs its head against my knee, and climbs readily into my lap.

I… I smile.

"Wh-What's-" I cut off, scrubbing tiredly at my eyes and stealing a soldering breath. The fox, clearly well aware of what it wants, stuffs its nose under my palm, throwing its head back and demanding head scratches. I rub my fingers across its head, wondering if I've half-fallen asleep. This has got to be a dream. "What's his name?"

"Wild foxes don't have names," the larger boy says.

He ducks his head, and when I glance over, folds his fingers. The loudest squirrel whines and chases after them, leaping onto the top of his wrist and flopping there lazily. Koda laughs. The sound so quiet it almost disappears on the wind.

The fox, just as demanding, huffs next to my neck, its elongated snout nuzzling and squirming until it makes its way next to my ear.

I sigh and pet it, fingers dragging through wiry thick fur. It's warm and heavy. The weight soothing, comfortable.

"I… I don't really like naming them," Koda admits, his voice barely audible as he talks. "They're… Names are for close friends. And—and while he's nice, he isn't going to stay."

As if breaking the spell, the fox sits up, yellow eyes blinking.

I blink back, surprised at the intelligence I see there.

"He likes you," Koda says, and I start when the orange maw opens and a tiny pink tongue sneaks out, licking my cheek.

"Ah-"

Using my legs as a springboard, the fox yips and flees, bounding across the grass in a silly prance. It disappears into a bush, and I snort at its dramatics, unable to stop my small smile.

Wiping the last traces of tears from my face, I lean back against the brick and sigh, feeling less. Less angry. Less sad.

"You… You know you can talk about it, or-or anything, if you want?" the large boy offers quietly. "I… I know I haven't been here as long-"

"It's not that," I sigh, cutting him off because it wasn't. "I just… I just had a memory. Sorry."

The taller boy shifts.

Little squirrels chitter and dance, one flying from his shoulder while another leaps and ducks and jumps up from the grasses. I smile distractedly as I watch them play, skittering up tree trunks and chasing at each other's tail.

Lighter. I feel lighter.

"You- You don't have to apologize."

I furrow my brows, looking back.

His big, blocky head points at the front, tiny rivets jutting out his neck, and a blush, followed by a small, almost shy smile pulls at his lips.

"That's… That's what heroes are supposed to do, right? Help others and make—and make things better. B-Besides, you're… you're my friend. Friends look out for each other."

Friends.

I don't learn names.

There's no point, not when I always leave.

"Then you have my promise that no matter how angry, frustrated, or upset I get you are mine. I will never abandon you."

"I will help you," he says, hand still outstretched and open. "I will do everything in my power to help you, but you have to want this. You have to work for it. Healing isn't a magic pill or a quirk. It's a choice, and one only you can make. Stop fighting me and let me help you. I promise you, if you will trust me, I will not abandon you."

Dragging myself to my knees, I make a choice. Leaning over, I circle arms around the kind boy's broad shoulders.

"Ahh-"

"Thank you," I whisper, leaning close and pressing a kiss to his quickly reddening cheek. I pull away and smile, tiny bits of starlight seeping through. "You're a good friend Koda-kun."

.

.

.

Both Koda and I return to try and help, but Kirishima, taking one look at my face, starts talking about getting Sensei and still irritated with Sero, I just decide to leave. Instead, I shuffle towards the building 1B is using.

Hitoshi isn't difficult to find. Seated on some scaffolding, he's looks completely enraptured in what looks like scenery painting, going brick by brick up a giant castle nearly three people tall.

I stand at the based of the scaffold, head tilted all the way back and wondering how I'm going to get his attention. I'd somehow managed to avoid all his classmates, and to be honest, I'd kinda prefer it that way.

Not that they were annoying or even bothersome…

Well, most of them…

I pull out my phone and just decide to text him.

Help me up?

I can see the moment it goes off, can hear the rustle of clothes as he checks his messages. Can almost imagine his expression as he reads it, before the scaffolding creaks, and in a moment, a tired-eyed teen is looking curiously over.

"Huh…? What are you doing here?"

Were it any other time, I might have scowled.

Tired, I gesture instead for him to lean closer, arms outstretched for him to grab on. He raises a brow, cocking his head to the side with a snort.

"Seriously?"

"Please?"

Hitoshi rolls his eyes.

There's a sound of something scraping against wood, and then a moment later he's back, head between the bars and arm outstretched and reaching. He grasps mine and pulls with a grunt, face wrinkling at the exertion.

"Damn, Rin, you been eatin' bricks or something."

I scowl, swinging from his arm to the nearest bar, and pull myself up to my chin.

"Seriously?" I huff, rolling under a pipe and over onto the floor. Like he hadn't just done a set of pullups with me on his back almost a week ago. I shove his shoulder and ignore his stupid grin. "What are you doing?"

He passes me a paintbrush, eyeing me strangely.

"What's it look like? Painting, obviously. Seriously though, why are you here? I thought 1A was doing some sort of weird concert/dance routine? Shouldn't you be practicing?"

I huff, filling the brush with paint and swiping it over the bricks.

Hitoshi grabs it back in an instant, eye twitching.

"Let me guess, you've never painted."

"Obviously," I scowl, annoyed when he drags off most of the actual paint. What the hell was the purpose of that? I pay close attention regardless, watching as he brings it back to the fake bricks, swiping it back and forth and always in the same direction. "I don't even know what I'd paint. My parents couldn't afford food, much less all of this. And I moved almost every three months afterwards. I guess we could have painted at the Last One, it probably wouldn't have lasted long enough to dry though."

I steal back the brush, swiping it the way he demonstrated.

It all looks like paint on the wall, but whatever.

I wait, but Hitoshi doesn't really respond, and, glancing over, I'm surprised to see him frowning.

"What?"

"You never talk about your parents," he says, brows furrowing and eyes narrowing. I have no doubt he can find the traces of my tears. Something stiffens in his shoulders and he lowers the brush, hand resting against his leg. "Did something happen?"

I grimace.

"Not… Not exactly. I… I just had a moment."

"So you cried," he translates, and I scowl, completely un-flattered. "Did someone make you cry or was this just one of your weird moods?"

I re-dip my brush, careful to scrape off most of the paint and resume my brushstrokes.

"I… That's… That's kinda what I wanted to talk about."

Hitoshi huffs, resumes his painting, and seems to focus entirely.

"Alright, about what?"

I hesitate, not really sure where to start, before remembering it's Hitoshi. Then, taking a deep, shuddering breath, I try to explain.

"There's… There was a mission Sensei and- and some of the others went on a while ago. It… It was when I got kidnapped, they were raiding the Yakuza and… And do you remember the drug Kaito used to take away my quirk?"

Hitoshi wrinkles his nose.

"Is this relevant?" he asks, side-eyeing me like I've told him something stupid. "'Cause you're all over the place with this intro."

"I- Well it's relevant!" I scowl, lips pursing as I try to order my thoughts. "The- The drug that Kaito used he got from the Yakuza. And the Yakuza made it from this girl. Like they took her blood, and they made that drug and- and Kaito injected me with it."

Hitoshi blinks, eyes widening.

"You… Wait, what?"

"Sensei saved her. Sensei and Midoriya and-and Mirio-senpai. And she was in the hospital for a while, so Sensei has been dragging me there to visit, but- but UA is—is adopting her. Or taking her in. Or something, and Sensei says because her quirk is so crazy she'll have to stay with us."

Hitoshi snatches back the brush and scowls.

I grimace at the mess of paint and bristles on his castle wall.

"I… sorry."

"Rin, I don't care about the stupid bricks. What- What the hell? UA is adopting a kid? Why?"

I twist my fingers, wishing I had something to squeeze.

"There's… He said she can't control her powers, and that it's—it's really strong. So Sensei's erasure quirk is supposed to help her, which means she has to spend the nights with us, but that means we have to move. Or-Or we'll have to share a room. But I- Hitoshi. I don't want her to come here. You- You don't understand. It's- They always want the little ones. They always take them first, especially the cute ones."

Hitoshi puts away his brush, wrapping it in some sort of wet towel, and turning to look at me. Really look at me. He frowns.

"Rin… Sensei isn't going to… to not want you or whatever just, just because this kid's cute."

I sniff and look down; not sure I believe him.

"Hey—Hey," he huffs, one arm reaching out and sweeping across my shoulder. He pulls me close, dragging me over to his side. I lean my head against him, quiet. "Rin, it's—look, I don't think I could ever really understand what you've been through. I can't even imagine my parents yelling at me, much less not responding or not doing everything in their power to help me. So… yeah, if you find it hard to trust I get that. But that's not how things are supposed to be. Real… Real men stick around; they don't abandon their families. And Aizawa-sensei's not going anywhere. He's not the type, no matter how cute or young or adorable the kid is, alright? So if you can't trust him, trust me, okay? I'd never lie to you, you know that, right?"

Sinking into his warmth, I slowly nod.

"You… you promise?"

"Always," he answers, head knocking against mine. He shares a lazy grin. "But I do think you should really go talk to him. Especially before this swells up into a tantrum or something, you know how he gets when you start acting out."

I wrinkle my nose.

"I—I don't tantrum."

"Sure," he huffs, letting go to pull away. "Though speaking of tantrums, I'm curious how you managed to get past Monoma. He's going to have a fit when he sees you—spying for the enemy?"

"Your hairy classmate said I could be ghost," I retort, but also scanning the space around us just in case. Several of Hitoshi's classmates go about their business below, one hanging curtain tracks and another carving some sort of tree.

"My hairy classmate?" Hitoshi repeats, brow rising in amusement. "Are you talking about Shishida-kun? I think I'm impressed. No nicknames?"

"No," I whine. "But maybe you should talk to him. If he calls me Princess again, I might actually punch him. Actually… you think Sensei would let us have some sort of mixed class battle? Can you imagine if we fought together? We'd be unstoppable!"

"You're ridiculous," Hitoshi smirks. "Why don't you go ask Sensei about it. Unlike some people, I actually do need to finish this. So you should go and learn your weird concert dance or whatever since you're obviously feeling better. Preferably before Monoma actually does return. You'd only have to hear about it for a minute, but I have to put up with his nonsense all day."

I smile and lean back over for a hug.

"Alright. Thank you 'Toshi!"

.

.

.

Sensei's waiting for me at the dining room table the moment I get home, eyes narrowed in on my face, paperwork spread and circled around him. I flush at his stare, not at all prepared for that level of scrutiny.

I thought he was supposed to be on patrol…

I skirt the door and close it, nervous.

Someone snitched.

I just know.

"Ah… Sensei!"

He raises a brow, wearing a strange sleeveless shirt and bright, ridiculous pink pants. I'm absolutely certain he stole those from Uncle Zashi's closet. Actually, he probably stole the shirt as well… I'm pretty sure he only owns copies of those same long-sleeved soft ones.

"I'm wondering where you've been," Sensei snorts, arms crossing as he sits back. "I stopped by this afternoon to see what your class has managed, and imagine that, my train-hopping runaway is missing yet again."

I pink, bright cherry light spilling across the room.

Oh.

Crap.

"I- I just left early!"

"You don't say," Sensei huffs, turning back to his paperwork and shaking his head silently. "Should I start sending Minasu to practices? This is the second time this week you've left early, at least that I know of."

I squeak and drop my things.

"Wha- What! No! No, please don't I- I went to talk to Hitoshi!"

Sliding across the room, I attach myself to Sensei's neck with a squelching kiss.

My guardian snorts, his rough jaw scratching against my face.

"Get off. Do we need to talk about this on the couch?"

"No!" I scowl, releasing him at once and shoving both arms behind me to tug at my wrist. "I'm- I'm being good! I- I even talked to Hitoshi about my feelings! See! You can ask him! I promise, please don't-"

Sensei skewers me with a narrow-eyed look.

"Is there something wrong that you're not telling me?" the dark-haired man asks darkly. "If Minasu's said or done something-"

My entire body may just combust out of mortification.

Done something?

"He- Sensei! What are you implying!? I don't even know what you're talking about, but he's just weird! He just sits there on his laptop and fusses if you don't eat or get too worked up and-and Toru thinks he's cute and- and it's embarrassing! I don't need a babysitter! I'm being good!"

Sensei relaxes and leans back, lips twitching in amusement.

I scowl.

Then, crowding into his personal space, slump over his legs.

Definitely Uncle Zashi's.

No one else would wear shiny pink pants like this but him.

"What are you even wearing?" I grumble, letting my arms slump to the floor and wrinkling my nose at the color. They smell like Sensei though, how long has he had them? "Are these yours? Where did they even come from?"

"They're clothes," he deadpans.

I squawk as he drops his elbow in my back and resumes working.

"What! No way! These are definitely Uncle Zashi's! Have you been raiding his closet? Where's your normal black ones?"

"I have other clothes," Sensei huffs, leaning forward.

Yeah, right.

I think Sensei actually might be a mind reader because he runs his hand tickling my side. I squeal and squirm, kicking up at his head. He blocks easily, knocking the legs back.

"Don't kick."

"Then don't tickle!" I scowl, digging my chin into his thigh. "I know those aren't yours! Either fess up or I'm calling Auntie!"

The chair slides back unexpectedly, Sensei's pink-covered legs elongating as he rises easily dragging me up and over his arm.

I dangle against his forearm like a limp noodle.

"Sensei!"

"That sounded like a threat," the dark-haired man says flatly, reaching out and catching my ankle. I squeak, kicking again, but he avoids it easily. "What did I say about kicking?"

I dangle with a snort, taking in his upside-down form.

He looks just as ridiculous. I cross my arms, feeling the blood swim to my head.

"Dunno… Couldn't hear you over the bright-pinkkkk! Sensei!"

I squeal as he tosses me onto the couch, bouncing harmlessly down onto the cushions. I laugh, roll over, and tumble onto my feet.

"So sassy," he snorts, pushing back in his chair and rolling his eyes. "How did your meeting with Eri go?"

I ignore his rather blatant attempt at a subject change.

Eri was about the last thing I wanted to talk about anyways.

"Sensei," I sigh, leveling him with a serious stare. "I wasn't kidding about that phone call. Spill or I'm calling Aunt Nemuri."

He actually has the nerve to blink at me.

"Excuse me?"

I pull out my phone warningly, and there's something surprised in his features. Leaning over the kitchen counter, he crosses his arms and pins me with a look.

"You're pushing boundaries, now put that away."

I frown, brows furrowing as I study him seriously.

"Oh! And do him and Present Mic have a thing?"

I don't know why the memory hits, the sound of Toru's voice resonating in my mind though.

You know, like dating? Are they like secretly married or something? I mean, they're always hanging around each other, and you know they did the announcements for the sports festival together, and, I mean, you did do your internship with Present Mic-sensei, and now you're friends with Aizawa-sensei's intern. So, I mean, why not?

I shove the phone back in my pocket, narrow-eyed.

"Why? Did you steal it while you were dating?"

I don't think I've ever seen Sensei go still so fast.

My eyes widen.

That means-

"You did!" I shriek, my mouth falling open. "S-Sensei! You dated-"

"I did not," he growls, cheeks pink. "We are not having this-"

"You stole his pants?" I squeal, hands raking through my hair. I turn to the window, not really sure who to look at. What the hell! He- and Uncle and- "Who steals somebody's pants?"

"Rin-"

"Jeez! You- Wait, you and him—Does that mean you-" I turn from the wall, swinging back to stare at my guardian in a horrified fashion. "Is that who you-"

I can't even finish it.

My skin burns.

Sensei pinches his nose.

"That's enough," he cuts me off, his deep baritone filled with warning. I can barely look at him. He- They- Did Aunt Nemuri know about this? What- "Rin, stop. We are not having this discussion. Get your mind out of the gutter."

I turn an accusing glare back.

"We're not!? Why not?"

"It's none of your-"

"You're supposed to be my Dad! Of course, it's-"

I stop.

The world whirling to a halt.

Sensei stares back, looking just as shell-shocked and I-

I feel the blood drain from my face.

My… Dad…

I-

I bolt from the room.

Sensei's voice shouts after me, but I don't listen. Ducking under his arms and skidding down the hall. I slam the door behind me, heart pounding in my chest as I lean against it.

"Rin…"

"Go away!"

He doesn't rattle the doorknob or press for entry, so I clamber in my bed and under the covers. There's a pause, a light knock-

"I don't wanna talk about this!" I snarl, eyes squeezing closed, the hot taste of my mouth spilling across my forearms. I drag the pillow over it, over my head and ears and feeling the buzz of electricity rummage across my skin.

I expect him to knock again.

The door to open, his face to pop in.

I wait, half abuzz as I can feel his presence outside my room. And then… And then he walks off.

I don't know if I want to cry or scream.

Not cry.

I'm not crying over-

Over-

I don't even know what to call this.

I have a Dad. I have one!

I clamber up angrily, dragging back the covers. I have a Dad and he loved me very much and- And I storm across my room. Dragging out and rattling drawers. I find the picture after a moment. Purple swollen skin covering half his jaw, one bloody lip stretching forward. My father squints up nearly unrecognizable, dressed in prison scrubs.

"That's not the way to remember him."

I glare, dragging myself back into the bed.

I had a Dad.

What were you thinking?

I felt off-kilter, had felt off-kilter all day. Moody. Emotional. Ragged.

I glower at the picture and shove it under my pillow. Stupid memories. I'd been on this rollercoaster since Eri had shown up. I hated feeling like this, like one moment I'd cry and the next I'd scream and-and all I wanted was to be normal!

I heave several deep, steadying breaths.

"It is because anger is natural, neither good nor bad. Much as the wind can cause destruction or give relief, or the rain refreshes and destroys, anger is but a symptom of something else. Of pain."

What are you afraid of?

What about it scares you so much?

I curl into my knees and stare.

When Sensei knocks on my door, probably half an hour later, there's fog leaking under into the hall. I can hear his sigh, and I hate that it's him I'm thankful is out there.

"Rin…"

When I ignore him, he opens the door. Lips curling down as the clouds escape into the rest of the house. He doesn't mention it, crossing the room instead. The bed dips as he joins me, a warm hand falling on my side.

"Are you-"

"I'm not crying," I tell him sharply, cutting off whatever stupid question he probably wanted to ask. Like are you okay? Ugh. I scowl at the opposite wall and take another steadying breath. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Okay."

I open my mouth, ready to argue when it really clicks that he'd agreed. I turn to consider him narrowly. He raises a brow, meeting my gaze squarely.

"That's it?" I ask, skeptical.

"I'm sure it'll come up again," he shrugs, leaning back confidently. I wrinkle my nose, irritated at his certainty. "It's fine, we'll talk about it later."

"I wasn't calling you… that," I tell him darkly. "I… I wasn't."

"I thought we weren't talking about it?" Sensei says, lip twitching. "And it doesn't matter what you call me, Rin."

I glower.

Oh yeah?

"You're sure about that Shouta?"

He actually laughs, head tilting to the side.

"As long as it's Sensei when we're in actual class, go for it, kid."

I snort.

Leaning back, Sensei falls across my legs and the rest of the bed lazily. Arms folding behind his head and feet planted on the floor, he considers the swirl of clouds above us contemplatively.

"The pants are mine."

I turn and give him a look, uncertain why he's even returning to that stupid mess of a conversation.

"I did take them from Yamada, but it wasn't because we were dating. Dating happens when you're trying to get to know someone. I've probably known Hizashi inwards and out since I met him, he's not exactly a complicated person."

I blink, brows furrowing as I try to decide whether that's an insult or not.

Sensei just sighs though, not looking at me as he plows forward.

"I didn't date Hizashi, but there was a… thing. It was a long time ago, nothing ever came out of it, and the idiot's in a loving relationship now, so I don't want you thinking there's something there that's not."

I sit up, frowning at Sensei seriously.

"Then… then why are you telling me?"

He lets a loud breath of air through his nose, expression impassive, and shrugs.

"Because you asked," he says, meeting my eye. "And because keeping it from you would probably hurt more than help. You should be able to come to me with anything, Rin. I suppose even if it is awkward as hell…"

I consider his exasperation quietly.

Then, pulling my legs out from under him, I drag them up to tuck beneath my chin.

"What… What's a thing?"

"In the context I used it?" Sensei asks, and when I nod, he just sort of smirks. "It means having sex, though more technically, I suppose a one-night stand."

I flush, covering the entire room—and him—in red.

"O-Oh!"

He chuckles, shaking his head lightly.

"Do you know what a one-night stand is?"

"N-No…"

"It's when you have sex with someone once, without any intention of doing it again."

I make a noise in the back of my throat, and he smiles, gesturing me over. I don't hesitate, burying my fervently glowing face against his arm.

"S-Sensei…"

"I'm telling you this because I made a mistake," Sensei says, the rough scratch of his chin sharp against my temple. "When I was seventeen, I mistook friendship for something more because I was hurting. It was awkward and pointless, and I learned the hard way just because you feel something deeply doesn't mean it's necessarily romantic."

Peeking up at him, he offers a stupid smirk.

"Any more questions?"

I bury my head back, eyes squeezing close as he laughs.

"N-No!"