Chapter Text
The rain had stopped, but the air still smelled heavy of asphalt, iron, and something faintly electric. The hallway lights flickered above, turning the corridor into a watercolor of shadows.
Sheng Shaoyou walked briskly, umbrella swinging neatly at his side. His shirt collar was still perfectly pressed, his tie knotted with textbook precision even after three hours of grading papers that made him question humanity’s collective intelligence.
He wasn’t expecting to find anyone still lingering on campus.
He certainly wasn’t expecting him.
At the end of the stairwell, laughter rippled through the air light, feminine, careless.
Two girls stood close to Hua Yong, their voices syrup-sweet. One tugged on his jacket sleeve; the other twirled her hair, asking something about “motorcycles and midnight rides.”
And Hua Yong of course played along.
Half a smirk, eyes low-lidded, voice smooth. He looked like trouble in human form damp hair, bruised knuckles, the faintest streak of red by his lip.
Sheng Shaoyou stopped mid-step, jaw tightening. Typical.
Flirting one minute, fighting the next.
“Mr. Hua Yong,” Shaoyou said, voice slicing through the laughter like a blade through silk.
The girls startled, immediately stepping back. Hua Yong turned, slow and lazy, like he’d been expecting him all along.
“Professor.”
The word was almost a drawl taunting, deliberate.
Shaoyou’s gaze dropped to the bruise on Hua’s jaw. “Another fight?”
“Define ‘fight, Proffessor’” Hua said, tone lazy but eyes sharp.
“Anything that ends with you bleeding on university property.”
Hua’s lips curved. “Then yes. Another fight.”
Shaoyou inhaled sharply through his nose, the faintest tremor breaking his perfect calm. “You seem determined to make my department a constant source of paperwork.”
“I like attention,” Hua murmured.
“From who?” Shaoyou snapped, and immediately regretted the question when Hua Yong’s smirk deepened.
“From you, apparently.”
The girls exchanged wide-eyed looks, sensing danger or something worse and slipped away, whispering as they disappeared down the corridor.
Now it was just the two of them.
Shaoyou stepped closer, close enough for the faint scent of Hua Yong’s cologne cedar and rain to curl under his thoughts. “You’re becoming a pattern I don’t care to repeat.”
“Funny,” Hua said quietly, voice low enough that Shaoyou had to look up to meet his eyes. “I’ve started noticing I only fight on the days you glare at me like that.”
“Like what?” Shaoyou asked, though his heartbeat already knew the answer.
“Like you hate me,” Hua said, eyes steady. “And you’re not sure why it feels good.”
For one unbearable second, the world stilled just rain dripping from the eaves, and the warmth of proximity neither could justify.
Then Shaoyou moved.
The umbrella snapped open with military precision, blocking Hua Yong’s view of his expression.
“Detention,” Shaoyou said, voice sharp but faintly unsteady. “Tomorrow. Don’t be late.”
He turned to leave, but Hua Yong’s voice followed him — soft, amused, dangerous.
“You really don’t see it, do you?”
Shaoyou paused. “See what?”
“The way you look at me,” Hua murmured. “Like you’re trying not to.”
Shaoyou didn’t answer.
He simply walked away, steps quick, heart quicker.
Behind him, Hua Yong leaned against the wall again, a faint smile tugging at his bruised lip.
The rain started up once more soft, patient, as if the sky itself had decided to wait for round two.