LucielleBloopBoop
At twenty-four, you thought love was something you'd already figured out-fleeting, harmless, a passing warmth that never stayed long enough to matter. But then came Professor Tsukishima, your new history professor. Five years older, sharp-tongued yet strangely gentle when he spoke about the past. You told yourself it was just admiration, a harmless fascination with his mind. But somewhere between his quiet smiles and the way he said your name like it meant something, you stopped pretending.