At the sound of knuckles rapping on the door, Akira (wearing those tight bicycle shorts and a towel about his shoulders) stiffened. A measly door prevented whoever was out there from seeing him damp and dripping with water, which lazily trailed over every ridge and curve of his body. Thin, flimsy wood.

The surge of protectiveness that went through Daichi had his teeth gritting. He straightened off the couch, wondering who the hell was here so late, especially when Surya never invited anyone else over. But it didn't really matter who, because he didn't want anyone to catch even a whiff of a scantily clad Akira. 

"It's me," Professor Masami called in that annoyingly calm voice. "I came to drop off the last of the marked papers again."

Surya stood, gesturing for Akira to move somewhere out of sight.

"Surya?" the Professor knocked again. "…Malay?"

Akira opened the door a second before Daichi reached him, and Daichi felt his jaw clenching so hard it almost cracked. 

At the sight of them, the Professor fell silent for a poignant second, then smiled down at Akira. "I heard Surya was tutoring you." 

"Torturing, actually." Akira's response was notably short, which had to be intentional.

"Did you just finish?" The Professor was blatantly ignoring Daichi, but he was all smiles and undeterred friendliness toward Akira. "You must've come straight from practice."

"That's why I was borrowing Surya-tov's shower." Akira gave a smile. "You're like a bloodhound, sir. How'd you know I was here tonight?"

"You weren't at the bus stop when I returned to campus, and I was going to offer you a ride home," the Professor shrugged. "I was worried when you weren't there."

"That's a very busy night for you," Daichi inserted, leaning against the wall beside Akira. "Driving Akira home, dropping off the tests here."

The Professor's gaze finally lifted from Akira to Daichi, and drastically cooled. 

"Thanks for delivering the papers," Surya cut in as he came up on Akira's other side. 

"It's no trouble." The Professor dumped the heavy stack in Daichi's arms before crossing the threshold to continue speaking with Akira. "If you're done studying, then have you eaten?"

"We're just about to, before studying some more."

The Professor hummed sympathetically. "Well, I'm impressed by how hard you've been working, but don't overdo it. It's already getting so late."

"He needs all the help he can get from me," Surya said. 

Daichi gave a more dramatic sigh. "Really, I don't think he can go home until he's actually gotten more than three of Surya's questions right."

Akira frowned at both of them, but the Professor only nodded. "Then I should get going so I don't keep you. I'm just across the hall. Over there, 302. Once you're done, let me know, and I'll take you home, okay?"

"I can't quite predict how late we'll end," Surya lamented, and glanced at Daichi.

"And I'll still be up," Daichi added. "So I'll drive him home again."

The Professor looked so stunned that Daichi inexplicably felt he'd picked up on their lies. But he just echoed, "Again?"

"Again," Akira confirmed. "But thanks for the offer, sir."

"O-oh, of course. Well, if it gets too late, just knock. My couch is still yours if you need it."

Like a hero, Surya came forward, edging the Professor out of the dorm. This gave Daichi a chance to pass Akira half the stack of papers, asking him to help carry them to Surya's bedroom. Akira awkwardly balanced them on one arm, now keeping his towel around his shoulders with a white-knuckled grip as he shuffled after Daichi. 

Daichi glanced once over Akira's curls to see the Professor still watching him, so he shifted to shield Akira from view while Surya took up the doorway, acting like a literal gate. 

But Akira surprisingly dropped back a step, and Daichi dipped his head closer to better hear him whisper. "Can I please borrow a shirt? I look like some old grandma in a shawl."

"Nothing wrong with that, but sure." Daichi immediately fetched the absolutely smallest shirt he could find. "Here, try this. I'll be in the kitchen."

When Akira reappeared, Daichi straightened off the table and clapped. Turns out his smallest shirt, which no longer fit him unless he wanted a crop-top, was the perfect size for little Akira. He could see the slender curve of Akira's spine and the shifting of his muscles, which was very attractive. 

"You're way too tiny," Daichi said. "Eat more."

"Don't body shame me." But Akira's small smile was warm, which Daichi adored. He joined him at the table, pulling at his shirt like it was a little too tight. "Thanks, by the way."

"Oh?" Daichi's eyebrows lifted. "And what did I do?"

"I'm pretty sure you were defending me." Akira grinned. 

"I made your basketball senses tingle, huh?"

A baffled Surya entered the kitchen. "Hey, that was weird, right? That wasn't just me?"

"Not at all," Daichi replied. "I'd just like to say, for the record, that I've never liked Masami."

"I didn't think he'd ever chase a first-year, though."

Akira frowned. "He isn't. He's not a bad person."

Daichi tilted his head. "Oh, so there's another reason you didn't want to go with him?"

"I just don't want a closer relationship with him. That says nothing about his character."

"He might not be a bad person," Surya allowed, "but his behaviour just now was inappropriate."

But Daichi wasn't as diplomatic. "You can't be such a pushover, Akira. He just tried to cross a line with you as his student. You wouldn't have seriously gone with him if we hadn't intervened, would you?"

"I would've handled it."

"Oh, come on," Daichi spat, growing angrier. "You shouldn't have opened the door for him in the first place."

Akira snapped, "He already knew I was here."

"But not that you were fucking half-naked. What do you think you looked like, huh?"  Daichi's voice was seething. "He was eyeing you like you were a slut for a-"

"Stop it," Akira shouted, then flinched, like his own voice had given him a fright. 

Daichi felt like a cold bucket of water had been emptied over his head. Pale, he looked at Surya, who put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. It made Daichi feel like he could breathe again. But adjacent to him, Akira stood alone. 

"I – I would've handled it," Akira said, visibly calming himself, "but I shouldn't have opened the door without your consent. I'm sorry about that. And I'm…I'm not a…"

"You're not," Daichi immediately said. "I shouldn't have said that."

"I think we were both caught off-guard by the Professor," Surya added, helping to ease them out of this painful tension. 

"It makes me angry that a person in his position of authority is chasing –that he gives off the impression that he's interested in you." Daichi sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. "And I know in my head you could handle it. You've been handling it so far."

The dregs of defensiveness in Akira's tight expression eased away, and he settled back into his chair, giving a half-embarrassed smile. "W-well, I appreciate you two helping me with this particular thing."

"What a vague thing to say," Surya muttered. 

Just as Daichi demanded, "What else is happening besides this particular thing?"

"My hunger." Akira's forehead thumped against the table. "Please feed me."