“Just for a few minutes,” he insisted gently. “The essays will still be here. You won’t be able to grade them properly if you’re running on empty.”
The voice was soft, almost a whisper, yet it made Akira flinch. They looked up to see Haruki Saito, a student from Class 3-B, holding a stack of returned library books. He was a quiet boy, the kind who vanished into the background, but his eyes… his eyes had always seen too much.
“Just a little rest, Sensei,” he murmured, so only they could hear. “I’ve got you.”
The words hung in the air. Is it okay to rest a little? Sensei- Chotto Yasunde Ii Desuka -RJ01292809-
“I know.” Haruki didn’t leave. He placed the books on the return cart with careful, deliberate movements. Then he walked closer, stopping on the other side of the teacher’s cluttered desk. “You’re still here, too.”
Haruki’s lips curved into the faintest, warmest smile. “Then sleep. I’ll wake you in thirty minutes. I promise.”
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“Or, you could lie down over there. I can keep watch. Make sure no one comes in.”
Akira let out a shaky breath. The offer was absurd. Unprofessional. A student shouldn’t be taking care of their teacher like this. But the exhaustion was a physical weight. “I’d fall asleep,” Akira whispered, the admission feeling like a surrender.
Haruki tilted his head, observing the empty coffee cups, the faint shadows under Akira’s eyes, the way their hand trembled slightly as it reached for the next paper. The air in the library felt thick and lonely. “Just for a few minutes,” he insisted gently
When Akira woke up, disoriented and warm, twenty-three minutes had passed. Haruki was still there, quiet as a shadow, reading a book by the light of his phone. He looked up and their eyes met.
And for the first time in weeks, Akira Sugimoto let their eyes close. The red pen rolled off the desk and onto the floor. The clock ticked. The wind brushed against the windowpanes. And Haruki Saito sat in the fading light, watching over his tired teacher, keeping the world at bay.