eve

The spring air was sharp with the scent of cherry blossoms, drifting lazily across the way to the subway station. You tugged your cardigan tighter, your gaze wandering over the station filled with school students, office workers and elderly people. With your bag slung over your shoulder and earbuds plucked into your ears, you boarded your train that had arrived just seconds ago. 

Your parents were back in Tokyo and had suggested you join a university there too, but you refused as you wanted to study in a new environment. They were not rich, but well enough to lead a comfortable life, which was why they agreed to pay for your rented apartment here in Kyoto. You were always grateful for having them.

After 20 minutes, you finally arrived at your station, getting out of the train and making your way towards your campus, which was a 5 minutes walk from here. Checking your watch, you noticed you still had 25 minutes before your first class so you decided to get yourself a hot coffee at the campus’s cafe.

Stepping into the cafe, the pleasant smell of freshly brewed coffee beans and pastries made your stomach growl slightly in hunger. “Y/N!”

You turned your head towards the cheerful voice and saw your best friends; Sara and Kaede, walking into the cafe. “Good morning,” you greeted them. “Long time no see,” Sara immediately pulled you into a tight hug, her blonde hair with sunny yellow highlights swaying in her cute signature pigtails adorned with ribbons. “We missed you,” Kaede spoke, a smile on her face as her long silver hair cascaded down her shoulder elegantly. 

“I miss you guys too.” You smiled, pulling away from the hug. “How was your semester break in Tokyo?” Sara questioned before turning to the counter to place an order of three milk coffee for all three of you. “It was good, went out shopping and bought tons of clothes,” Laughter escaped their lips. “You and your shopping addiction,” Kaede shook her head mockingly. “I bought some for you guys too.”

“What, seriously?!” Sara chimed, her heterochromia eyes shining with excitement as you nodded your head. “Yeay! You’re the best!” They both said in unison, pulling you into a group hug. 

“Hoshikawa!” The cashier called out, placing three takeaway coffees on the counter top. “So, excited for your first ever chem?” Kaede asked while Sara was busy passing the coffee cups to you and her. “Ugh, I’m actually very nervous cause I’m gonna be competing with actual chem majors,” you admitted, your heartbeat racing at the thought of it. “Should’ve taken one of the subjects from our course then.” Sara pouted. “Just wanted to try something different,” you said as you took a sip of your drink.

“Or you just wanted to stare at the professor. Professor Leos was it? I heard he’s very attractive,” Kaede teased, her violet eyes narrowing at you. “I don’t even know how he looks.” Rolling your eyes with a chuckle, you started walking out of the cafe as the other two followed behind. “My science building is all the way back there so I better start walking.”

“Okay,” Kaede waved. “See you during lunch!” Sara waved too before both of them started making their way towards their arts building. Sara was in Arts and Design while Kaede was in Fashion Design, but both departments shared the same building.

Bag bouncing against your shoulder, hot coffee warming up your hands, your heart thrummed with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. Rumours about Professor Leos flickered in your mind, though you tried to push them aside. You hadn’t enrolled for him. You hadn’t even known who would be teaching. 

Inside the lecture theatre, rows of empty seats stretched upward. Only a few students had arrived. You slipped into a middle row, not too close, not too far, and set your coffee on the small desk. You caught sight of the professor’s figure at the front as he was connecting the projector’s HDMI cable to his laptop, his dark blue hair falling onto his eyebrows. He looked up briefly, adjusting his glasses as he scanned the room. Cyan eyes, steady and sharp, examined the students and for a heartbeat, his gaze brushed past yours and your pulse quickened.

You dropped your eyes to the coffee cup, waiting for the flutter in your chest to settle. 

When you looked up again, he was adjusting the sleeves of his grey shirt, rolling them neatly to his elbows, revealing forearms that flexed slightly as he pressed a button on the console, flickering the projector to life. There was something achingly precise about him and you felt yourself caught in it, fully aware that you were noticing things you probably shouldn’t.

“Morning, class,” he said, voice deep yet calm. “I’m Professor Leos Vincent. Welcome to Introduction of Chemical Principles," he said. “If you’re here because you think chemistry is easy, the exit is behind you.” A few students laughed nervously. You didn’t as you were too focused on the way his gaze scanned the rows, never lingering but never careless. 

He began outlining the syllabus without any of the dreaded ice-breaking sessions other professors adored. Relief washed through you. Nothing spiked your anxiety faster than professors demanding “a fun fact about yourself.”

“Chemistry isn’t about memorising a thousand of formulas,” he continued, sketching a circle on the whiteboard beside the projector screen. “It’s about understanding why matter behaves the way it does. Electrons–” he tapped the circle, added small dots, “– arrange themselves in patterns. Those patterns decide everything; why water flows, why steel bends, why your heartbeat depends on a chain of reactions happening right now.”  He drew a jagged line beneath the circle. “Even chaos has a rule hidden underneath. Your job this semester is to learn how to see the rules.”

The lecture flowed, but you barely registered the words. Your attention kept drifting to the way his dark blue hair was messily styled, the way his hand moved when he pointed to a diagram, the quiet sigh when his marker ran out of ink. Everything about him seemed deliberate yet effortless. 

“Next session,” he said at last, closing the marker, “will be in the lab on Thursday. Three hours, enough time to learn what glassware not to break.” A few students chuckled, easing the stiffness in the room after an hour of understanding the basics of chemistry. “We’ll start with stoichiometry,” he continued, unplugging his laptop from the cables connected to the projector. “We’ll start with stoichiometry, measuring how mass changes in reactions. Review chapters one and two before then.” His cyan eyes scanned across the rows; when it caught on you, the contact was brief, probably accidental, yet it felt like being pinned by static.

When he dismissed the class, you stayed seated a little longer than necessary, pretending to rearrange your pens. Watching him gather his materials and then going on his phone, you wondered if he has a wife back at home. Finally, you forced yourself up, heart still tapping against your ribs. As you left, you promised not to think too much about a man who would never look at you twice outside of a class, a man who could possibly be married to another.

~~~~~

By the time you arrived at the cafeteria after your classes, the noon crowd had already taken up most of the tables. You spotted Sara first amidst the crowd, hard not to, with her blonde hair bouncing in two neat pigtails. Her eyes; one in a dark shade of pink, and the other in orange, lit up as she waved both her hands like a child trying to flag down a train. Her voice, as always, carried above the clatter. “Y/N! Over here!” 

Beside her sat Kaede in an unbothered pose. Her violet eyes scanned you with calm amusement. When she spoke, her voice had that velvet edge that always made people lean in. “You survived.”

“Barely,” you mumbled, dropping your bag on the chair and sitting next to Sara, where they had already bought lunch for you. She leaned closer, chin on her palms, “So? How was the first day of chemistry?” Kaede’s lips curved into a subtle smirk. “Was he cute?” You smiled sheepishly, unwrapping your chopsticks as if they needed careful study. “I don’t know about cute, but definitely sexy.”

Sara gasped dramatically, almost spilling her smoothie. “So the rumours are true? ” You snorted, but your pulse jumped. “Yes, but also the kind of person who could destroy you with one raised eyebrow if you spilled acid in the lab.” Kaede rested an elbow on the table, balancing her chin on her knuckles. “Some people might find that appealing.”

“I don’t,” you said, aiming for firmness. “I just want to pass chemistry without combusting.” They laughed, and Sara nudged you with a playful shoulder bump. “Combusting is literally what chem is about.”

The conversation drifted, a new cafe near campus, Kaede’s latest thrift find, Sara’s never-ending crusade to convince you both to try karaoke this weekend. You nodded and laughed through the conversation, happy to finally be with them after 2 months of semester break.

But somewhere beneath the chatter, your thoughts replayed fragments of Leos; his handwriting on the whiteboard, his cyan eyes behind his glasses, his thorough explanations of chemistry. You stabbed a piece of melon from your tray, annoyed at yourself.

It was nothing, it should be nothing. 

“So what’s next in chemistry?” Sara asked, pulling you away from your thoughts, her eyes bright with mischief. Without thinking, you repeated his words almost exactly. “Lab on Thursday. Three hours. Stoichiometry, measuring how mass changes in reactions.” You paused, noticing how exact your tone was and how it reflected his cadence. Heat crept up your neck. “I guess we’ll see if I blow anything up.” You said, nervous as you’ve never done any experiments ever since your high school, which has been 3 years since you graduated. Kaede’s lips curled into a smirk. “If you do, he might have to come rescue you.”

“Or exile me from the building,” you countered, trying to steer your voice back to joking. Sara giggled, her pigtails swaying. “You’re doomed either way.” Their laughter was warm, easy, but when you glanced out the window, towards where you could see the building where Thursday’s lab waited, a quiet pull tightened in your chest. You told yourself it was just nerves about glassware and formulas. That was all. Still, the ache lingered, light but insistent, like a chemical reaction that had already begun before you could decide whether or not to start it.

When lunch finally ended, Sara hopped to her feet, balancing her now empty tray in one hand. “Karaoke this Saturday, don’t forget! I’ll book a booth if you two promise not to ditch me.” Kaede stood up from her seat, her silver hair cascading like water down her back. “We’ll see if someone isn’t buried in chemistry notes by then,” she said, her gaze cutting meaningfully towards you. You groaned. “I’ll be there. I promise.” Sara grinned mischievously. “Good, cause if you cancel our plans just for Professor Vincent, I’m staging an intervention.”

You rolled your eyes, shouldering your bag. “Relax. He’s just a lecturer.”

“Mhmm,” Kaede hummed, voice smooth as velvet. “Keep telling yourself that.” They flanked you as the three of you passed through the cafeteria doors. Their teasing followed you, Sara’s sing-song predictions about you dropping beakers on purpose, and Kaede’s low, sly remarks about heroic professors saving clumsy students. You laughed along, swatting at Sara when she poked your ribs. Sara veered off toward the arts building, already talking about an installation she wanted to start, while Kaede drifted gracefully toward the fashion studios, the swish of her ponytail as precise as a runway turn. As you watched them disappear into their respective worlds, the quiet settled in again, leaving you with your own thoughts and the stubborn memory of a steady voice saying, “Three hours on Thursday. Bring a steady hand.”

~~~

Thursday’s lab smelled faintly of chemicals and hot metal. You kept your head down, measuring solvents with careful precision, willing your hands to stay steady. Around you, the hiss of burners felt too loud in a room already too alert. A beaker sat too close to the edge of your table wobbled as you reached for a pipette. Before you could react, a steady hand caught it, slender fingers grasping around the rim as though the gravity obeyed him.

“Watch your reach,” Leos said, voice calm enough to steady more than just the beaker. His closeness, the faint warmth radiating past the sleeve of his lab coat, left your breath thin. Faint cigarette smell clung onto him, making you realise that he must be a smoker. You mumbled a thank-you, but he was already moving on, checking another station.

After the lab, lectures and practicals of your literature subjects blurred into a steady rhythm, yet beneath it all a quiet restlessness pressed against your ribs. Each time you caught sight of the science building, the memory of that moment tugged at you, subtle but persistent no matter how often you told yourself it was only respect for a teacher whose calm seemed untouchable.

The second week of lecture began with a question.

“Can anyone explain why ionic bonds behave differently in water compared to a vacuum?” The room fell silent, a few students exchanging nervous looks. Leos stood at the front, hands lightly resting on the edge of the desk, gaze scanning across the rows. You tried to make yourself invisible, yet his gaze lingered on you for just a moment too long, causing your heart to race. You cleared your throat. “Because water stabilises the ions… the dielectric constant reduces electrostatic attraction?” A heartbeat. Then, the smallest nod. “Correct.”

Just a single word, but it landed like a pebble into a calm pond, sending ripples outward. For the rest of the hour, you couldn’t escape the realisation that he knows your voice now, that it had carved a place somewhere in his mind, no matter how small.

An hour filled with his calm teaching and a sudden pop-quiz finally passed and the class was dismissed. You lingered a moment as others started packing their things, copying down the last of Leos’s notes on the whiteboard before sliding your notes into your bag. At the front, he stacked papers with clean, efficient motions, his dark blue hair falling over his eyebrows. His voice then sliced through the noise, deep and measured. “Before you go, we’ll be doing stoichiometric again this Thursday. Many of you failed to complete the experiment successfully last week.”

A few students groaned; one quietly complained about the three-hour labs being cruel and boring. Though you were sure Leos heard it, he remained unfazed, merely adjusting his glasses and shifting his gaze to the papers he had neatly stacked. You zipped your bag close and slung it over your shoulder as you passed by his desk. His gaze briefly darted in your direction, and your heart skipped a beat. 

“You handled the dielectric question well,” he extended a piece of paper, which you recognised to be the small in-class pop quiz he held earlier, neat with ticks in the margins, 13/15 circled at the top.

“Solid grasp of the basic chemical principles. Keep refining your examples. That clarity will help in the lab.” The paper trembled slightly in your grasp, more from nerves than weight. The compliment he gave was so plain it might have been mechanical, yet it landed somewhere deep, a quiet spark against everything you were trying to keep contained. You murmured a thank-you, soft enough to be lost in the shuffle of students, and slipped out before the tremor in your chest could betray you.

That Thursday, you arrived early. The lab was empty except for Leos who stood at the front desk, sleeves of his dark grey shirt rolled to his elbows as he arranged a neat row of flasks that were required for the experiment. A cigarette rested unlit between his lips, a small detail that made sense of the faint scent of smoke you’d noticed on his clothes last week. When he caught sight of you in the doorway, he slipped the cigarette into his pocket, expression unreadable.

“Afternoon,” he said, straightening the last crucible. “It wasn’t lit,” he added, a dry note in his voice. “The cigarette.”

“Oh- yes, don’t worry, sir.”

You set your backpack against a stool leg, trying to calm your flutter that always rose when his gaze was on you. The first time you’d seen him, which was only last week, you’d sworn the world had paused for a heartbeat. Even now, it still felt a little like stepping too close to a flame. The spell broke as students trickled in, groaning about how “last week’s numbers made no sense.” Leos rested his hands on the table where you were seated with a few other students. 

“Since a majority of you failed to achieve acceptable yields,” he said, scanning the room, “we’re repeating the stoichiometric analysis and try not to incinerate anything today.” He motioned the students to come take the equipment needed that he had neatly arranged at the front. You slid off your stool, the metal feet scraping faintly against the tiles, and joined the quiet queue. You collected your crucible, tongs, and a coiled strip of magnesium ribbon, cool and smooth against your fingers, and returned to your place at the table. 

“Y/N.” You paused mid-step as he approached, sleeves of his lab coat pushed to his elbows.

“I went over your results from last week,” he said, voice low enough that only you could hear. “You were close, your yield was good, but you overheated the sample at the end. Lost a fraction of mass.” A small twist of embarrassment curled in your stomach. “Ah… I didn’t realize,” you murmured.

He gave a brief nod, not unapproving. “It happens. Redo the experiment and keep an eye on the temperature this time.” A hint of something flickered across his face. Encouragement, maybe? Before he stepped aside, letting you settle at your bench.

Leos drifted among the benches, adjusting stands, correcting grips on tongs. When he paused at your side, your pulse leapt before you could school it. He leaned slightly, eyes on the flame.

“Looks better already,” he said quietly. “Keep the lid tilted, you want just enough air.” You nodded. 

You noted the mass, careful not to jostle the scale. The calm of focus settled in, steadying your hands, until the sound of glass breaking echoed in the air. Your head whipped around to see a crucible toppled on the floor, a puff of white ash drifting dangerously close to your shoes. Leos was there in two strides. “Step back,” he ordered, calm but edged as he gently grabbed your arm, pulling you away from your stool. “Magnesium oxide isn’t dangerous, but we don’t inhale it. Clear space.” 

He swept the shards into a tray, then glanced back over his shoulder. For a second, his cyan eyes met yours, not long enough to signify anything, but just enough for warmth to steep up your cheeks. He turned away just as swiftly, directing the student to begin again. You leaned over your experiment, your heart pounding louder than before and his warmth still lingering on your arm. 

As the session finally ended, he walked around the room collecting results and correcting techniques. He paused at your place, brows furrowing momentarily as he examined your report. “Good,” he said. “You got it right this time.” He offered a quick nod before turning to the class to discuss the correct way to dispose of materials and secure the burners.

The sound of scraping stools and the clatter of glass resonated through the lab as students cleaned up. You took your time cleaning up, extending the serene bubble that formed whenever you were close to him but didn’t have to say a word. He was busy putting away the burners and crucibles when you finally threw your bag over your shoulder. For a brief moment, you thought he might utter something more, but he simply nodded and turned back to secure a cabinet. 

Outside, the corridor felt strangely empty after the constant murmur of the lab. You glanced once over your shoulder at the door before forcing yourself toward the stairs, your mind circling the same thought: it was just class. Just class, and you were only a student.

You made your way straight towards the cafe near campus that buzzed with the late-afternoon crowd, sunlight pooling across the wooden tables. “Y/N, over here!” Sara called as soon as she noticed you, her voice like a bell. Kaede sat across from her, silver hair cascading over one shoulder, a relaxed smile gracing her lips. A half-finished latte wafted steam between her fingers. You slid into the vacant seat, placing your bag down with a weary sigh. "I think the lab stole my soul."

Kaede raised an elegant eyebrow. "What experiment did you have today?"

"It was stoichiometry redo day," you confessed, reaching for the iced coffee that Sara had already ordered for you. "Everyone's crucibles kept letting them down. Mine almost did too, but the professor guided me." Kaede and Sara gave a knowing look to each other before turning to you. 

“Special treatment, huh,” Kaede teased. “Stop, I’m just focusing in class,” you responded, mixing the iced coffee with your straw. Sara scrunched her nose in distaste. “I’m relieved I don’t have to take chemistry. I’d definitely burn the whole class.”

“You would,” Kaede laughed. “You’d end up famous on campus TikTok.” Sara giggled, then leaned closer, eyes bright with curiosity.

“It’s already the last year for us so, tell us..who do you find yourself attracted to on our campus? Or maybe in your chem class?” You shook your head, laughing. “None of them. It’s just me, a worksheet, and a bunch of people bickering about who’s sample turned to ash.”

“Tragic.” Kaede’s voice dripped with mocking sympathy. “What about Kanae? From Sara’s class, you and him would look good together.” Sara gasped dramatically. “Yes! Or, the guy from Kaede’s fashion class! What was his name again?”

“Rou?” Kaede asked, to which Sara aggressively nodded her head. From seeing him around the campus a few times, you acknowledged that Rou is an undeniably handsome man. You got to know from Kaede that he was 2 years older than you, currently pursuing his bachelor's degree in fashion design.

“No way! He looks cool and shit but he’s such a brat in the class.” 

“It’s fine, he would still look good beside Y/N,” Sara teased. “So, who would you choose?” You rolled your eyes, warmth creeping up your cheeks. “Maybe Rou? He does look handsome and his outfits are always nice.” Groans burst from both of them. “I think she’s into older men,” Kaede said, smirking. “Kinky!” Sara declared, bumping your shoulder. “You want someone who makes your heart trip over itself, huh?”

“Absolutely not,” you said, laughing. “My heart is perfectly well-behaved.” They launched into an animated argument about whether Kanae or Rou made better dates.

For a while, you let yourself sink into the chatter, the scent of roasted coffee beans and vanilla syrup wrapping around you like a soft blanket. With Sara’s teasing and Kaede’s lazy wit filling the air, the week’s tension faded to a low hum.

~~~~~

Evening shadows stretched across the campus when you made your way into the library to borrow a reference book before heading home. The building smelled of paper and dust, a cool hush settling over the rows of shelves. You traced your fingers over the call numbers in the chemistry section, two chemistry books already in your arms. As you turned a corner, you almost bumped into someone. A pile of journals wobbled in the stranger’s arms.

Professor Leos.

He steadied them, one brow lifting. “Watch the corners.”

“Sorry, sir,” you breathed, stepping back. “Ambitious evening,” he said, motioning towards the books in your hold. “Planning to memorise the periodic table backwards?”

“Only if it helps with my essay,” you replied before you could second-guess yourself. A small noise, almost a laugh, escaped him. You followed as he walked toward the reference section. “Looking for Atkins’ Chemical Principles? It's on the next shelf,” he stated, knowing that students tend to reach for that specific book first as it is cited a lot in the textbook. 

He adjusted his strong grip on the journals and moved closer, reaching past you to take a book from the shelf behind you. “This edition’s got clearer examples,” he said, handing it over. 

Your fingers grazed the cover as you took it from his hand. Before you could respond, a student rounded the corner suddenly, backpack thudding against a shelf. You and Leos stepped back at the same time, bumping lightly. Your elbow brushed his sleeve, a faint scratch of fabric against your skin, before you retreated another pace.

“Sorry,” you murmured.

Leos shook his head, merely adjusting his glasses and offered a soft “Good luck,” and vanished between the shelves. You stared at the book he had given, heart thudding louder than it should have. With a racing heart, you made your way out of the library and back to the comfort of your home.

Friday’s Early Modern Poetry class was held in quite a small lecture room, where the late sun spilled in dusty beams. You settled near the window, glad for the quiet after the scene in the library. The class started in a short while with Professor Oliver writing on the whiteboard; Sonnet 147.

My love is as a fever, longing still,

For that which longer nurseth the disease,

As he read, the words lodged themselves in you like tiny hooks. Fever. Disease. This sonnet spoke of desire that thrived on its own danger, a craving that knew it would burn the hand that fed it. You stared at the lines in your book, your pulse slowing to a heavy, measured rhythm.

It wasn’t about Leos. It shouldn’t be.

Yet, every phrase felt too intimate. The subtle way he’d guide your pencil over the limiting reagent problem; the calm in his voice as he corrected a clumsy student. All harmless on his side, you reminded yourself. But in your heart, the poem made every memory ache.

When the class ended at six, the corridor outside basked in the fading sunlight, casting a golden hue. You turned a corner and almost bumped into him again. He had a folder secured under one arm, with the golden light painting sharp edges across his profile. 

“Evening,” he said, voice calm as ever. “You really need to watch your corners.” He stated, earning a light chuckle out of you. “Right, sorry sir.” For a heartbeat you stood there, awkward in the honeyed light, until he nodded and stepped aside to let you pass. You wanted to ask him what he was doing in this building when the science building was on the opposite side, but you bit back your question. You crossed the courtyard and sank onto an empty bench, Shakespeare’s Sonnets book clutched against your chest.

For a moment you only listened to the hum of insects, the faint chatter spilling from a distant window, the slow thud of your own pulse. A warmth still lingered where his sleeve had brushed yours, delicate as a fingerprint you couldn’t wipe away.

You pressed the edges of the book until they bit into your palms, as if you could anchor yourself to paper and ink instead of the restless pull in your chest. It was ridiculous. A handful of words, a passing glance, yet something in you had tilted, unbalancing all the careful lines you’d drawn since the semester began.

A breeze stirred the pages, loosening a faint scent of paper and dust, and with it came the memory of his voice: measured, steady, slipping through the quiet like a current you weren’t meant to touch. You shut the book quickly, as though closing a door on thoughts that had no right to grow.