It wasn’t that Yahiko was terrified of what he was about to do. What unsettled him more was the future itself – what awaited ahead, and how little he could predict it. That was the part he didn’t want to share with anyone.

At least, he had found a part-time job for the summer in a shop. It was his first summer holiday as a high school student, and unlike in middle school, the students were now old enough to wander around town, hang out freely, and do whatever they wanted. Yahiko, meanwhile, would be working.

On one hand, it felt like a step forward, something that made him feel more grown-up. On the other hand, it scared him. A job meant being out in the open, meeting people, and maybe even running into his classmates outside of school. Inside the classroom walls, things stayed contained – school was school. But outside, in a casual setting, anything could happen.

That thought alone was enough to push him closer to the choice he had already started to make.

He stopped in the middle of the corridor, one hand clutching his shirt as if to steady himself. His breath came uneven, teeth clenched against the quiet groan that slipped through. A tremor ran down his arms; he shivered with each shallow exhale until, at last, he forced himself to breathe in deep.

For a moment he just stood there, chest rising and falling, before lifting his head. The door he had been dreading was right in front of him.

“…Huuh.” Yahiko swallowed hard, then stepped forward and knocked.

“Yes, come in!” The reply was gentle, muffled through the wood.

He pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing it quickly behind him. The quiet was immediate, almost soothing.

The nurse’s office lay in calm stillness: two empty beds with their sheets folded neatly, a wide window left ajar, thin curtains stirring lightly in the summer breeze. No voices, no footsteps, only the faint rustle of fabric and the warm air drifting in. There was no trace left of anyone ever having been staying there for a while.

There was only one person in the room when Yahiko entered: Ayato Hayashi, the school nurse. He was sitting at his desk, finishing the last notes in a ledger and slipping papers into his bag. The day was nearly over, and he was ready to leave – if not for the sudden knock on the door.

“Ah, it’s you… hello,” Ayato said, recognizing the boy who had shown up at his door earlier, only to vanish before he could return. His hand rested on the strap of his bag. “I’ve finished here for today, so if you’re looking for—”

“Hayashi-senpai.” Yahiko’s voice cut through, steady and intent.

Ayato’s eyes narrowed slightly. He knew this scene too well. It always came around the time of summer or winter break – the first-years, the lone ones, the restless ones, gathering up their courage. He wasn’t a teacher, not someone distant or unreachable. He was just a nurse. And confessions to the nurse were never forbidden.

Boys and girls both had done it before, and Ayato understood it as a part of growing up, a kind of fever that came with the season. He couldn’t stop them any more than they could stop the feelings that stirred inside. But they were illusions, nothing more – fleeting sparks from that dormant place of longing. Nothing real could come of it.

Not for him. He was still grieving, still tied to the loss of his husband years ago. The pain had dulled over time, but it never left. And no confession, no trembling words from a student, could ever erase it.

“My name is Takahaya Yahiko,” the boy said, bowing slightly in respect.

Ayato met his eyes, but Yahiko’s gaze slid away, fixed somewhere near the floor – maybe on a scuff mark, maybe on an ant crawling by. It didn’t matter. They always avoided eye contact when confessing.

“You were already here today, weren’t you?” Ayato asked, his tone edged with gentle impatience. “Did you need something? I’m sorry I couldn’t help you earlier – there was an emergency. And now it’s already the start of summer break, so I really should be—”

“Hayashi-senpai.” Yahiko’s voice cut through again, softer this time, but firmer in intent.

Ayato had noticed him before. Yahiko often lingered around his office – not intrusively, but close enough to be seen. He never came in asking for pills, never faked a fever just to breathe in the nurse’s pheromones, never tried to slip him a snack or a note. He wasn’t like the others. No giggles when Ayato passed, no coy glances in the corridor, no clumsy favors to ask for. Quiet. Withdrawn. The kind who endured it all in silence.

And sooner or later, Ayato knew, even the silent ones spoke. It was a rite of high school, a season that came and went. He had braced himself for the words he had heard so many times before.

“Could you mark me, please?”

Ayato’s reply slipped out automatically, almost by rote. “I’m sorry, but I can—” The rest caught in his throat, the words breaking apart. “Wh… what?” His eyes snapped to the boy, searching his face.

Their gazes met. Yahiko wasn’t looking away this time. In his eyes there was no shy affection, no flutter of a harmless crush – only raw desperation, a silent plea. For a moment Ayato tried to convince himself he must have misheard… but seeing that look, he knew he hadn’t.

Yahiko’s fingers clenched tighter around the strap of his bag. He drew in a shaky breath, his voice trembling yet steadier than his body.

“Could you… mark me, please?” he repeated, quieter now, but unflinching.

The weight of it sank in fully. Ayato’s jaw hardened. He grabbed his bag, pulling it from the desk with a sharp motion.

“No.” The word came like a cut. Final. Irrevocable. He turned at once, hanging his white gown on the hook, his back to the boy.

“Hayashi-senpai, please…” Yahiko’s voice was almost a whisper as he caught Ayato by the sleeve.

Ayato froze for a beat, then shot him a sharp look over his shoulder. “Takahaya-kun.” His hand closed gently but firmly around Yahiko’s wrist, peeling it off his arm. “You’ve mistaken me for someone else. You should leave. Now.”

He turned toward the door, but Yahiko was quicker. His hand shot out, clutching the handle before Ayato could take it.

“Hayashi-senpai, please. Don’t just walk away – let me explain.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes shining with something closer to fear than hope.

“I already told you, Takahaya-kun—”

“I want to go to university.” The words burst out, cutting him off. Yahiko stepped closer, wedging himself against the door so Ayato would have to push him aside to leave. “I study. I get good grades. I work hard every day. But I’m an omega, and I don’t have anyone. My grandma raised me. My mother left. My father’s gone. I’m alone.”

Ayato’s face stayed hard. “That has nothing to do with me.” He grasped the handle, trying to pull the door open, but Yahiko pressed his shoulder against it, holding it shut.

His words came faster now, trembling but insistent. “You’re not a sensei. You’re a nurse. And I’m just a student. I know what’s waiting for me the moment I walk out of here. Bullies. A mark. If I’m marked, I’ll never make it to university. I’ll lose everything I’ve worked for.” His breath shook, but he forced the last words out. “Please… I don’t want my life to end before it’s even begun.”