His teacher had changed. Ever since he had opened to his teacher. Ater a long time, he had someone to spend the summer with. He would flush whenever his teacher talked openly about sexual positions drawn in the comics and retort when his teacher teased him if he had ever touched himself.
For a week his teacher had not drank sake. A week later his teacher left for some "personal matters". A few days later his cellphone rang. He knew who it was - the only one who would call him in the summer.
"Yes, it's Hans," he greeted over the phone in Japanese - a practice he learnt in honour of his teacher which had become a habit. It had not been easy to hide his feelings for his teacher. He had not told his teacher about it - but his eyes had given the game away since the first time he saw him - and it was getting more obvious.
He feared the most when he heard no reply from the other party, "Sensei?" he prompted.
A knock on his dormitory door. He did not know why he was running for the door.
His teacher stood sliently at the door as he opened it. He froze.
Sensei was leaving.
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