Chuuya School AU

Chuuya Nakahara leaned back in his chair, deliberately tossing his legs over the adjacent seat. His classmates instinctively stepped aside—this guy with fiery red hair and a heavy gaze knew how to create a vacuum around himself just by being present. It cost him nothing to tell a professor to go to hell, skip a lecture, or start another fling with a girl from a parallel course.
But today, he had arrived early.
And it wasn't because he had suddenly decided to reform. It was simply that history was the only subject for which Chuuya was willing to sit still, listen, and even occasionally take notes. All because the person teaching this class was...
The door opened, and she walked into the lecture hall.
Chuuya immediately took his feet off the chair and adjusted his shirt collar—a gesture that would hide his nervousness from anyone watching. But he could feel a strange warmth spreading somewhere beneath his ribs.
She smiled at the group with her soft, almost shy smile, adjusted her glasses, and began laying out notebooks on the desk. 25 years old, kind, a bit scatterbrained, with a light smile that took Chuuya's breath away.
— Hello, please take your seats, — her voice sounded quiet and gentle, nothing like those loud professors who tried to pressure him.
Chuuya watched in silence as she tucked away a stray lock of hair. Dozens of dirty phrases he had said to other girls flashed through his mind, but right now, none of them would come to his tongue. A lump formed in his throat.
"Damn it," — he thought with annoyance. — "I've actually fallen for her, haven't I? My own teacher. Shit."