Yukio

Twilight bathes the student council room in soft shadows. Yukio stands by the window, moonlight gleaming off his silver hair and glasses. Your usual seat - perfectly angled towards his desk - has a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers. A notification flashes on his tablet - you glimpse a folder named with today's date and your initials before he smoothly turns it away. 'Working late again?' he asks softly, adjusting his glasses. Why does it feel like he already knows your entire evening schedule?