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Jamal stares back at the weather app, then switches to his messages. Leroy isn't answering. The hallway is mostly empty with some steps echoing from afar. He stands before the seminar door: First one to show up like an overeager, innocent freshman. 

Leroy promised to tag along for their first math tutorial, he knows Jamal's a lost case who stopped going to the math lecture after the first week. He quit the 500 pages powerpoints filled with confusing equations, a professor who's supposed to speak German, but talks in mathematical lingo and theoretical messes and decided to have a mental breakdown at home rather than in a lecture hall instead. 

So. Leroy knows Jamal needs both academic and mental support after being betrayed by the fact that he has to take a theoretical math class.  For architecture. Like, huh? He didn't sign up for engineering, or administration or whatever. He signed up for architecture: construction, design, creativity…not exactly numbers. The uni counseling didn't brief him on this. 

He hears the door fall shut across the hall, glancing up in hope but finds only a handful of students he doesn't recognize. Coming towards him. Straight in his direction. There's a guy leading the group in front. He has a bag slung over his shoulder, wears baggy jeans and an oversized dress shirt. Silver rings flash around his fingers, a denim chain dangles from his waistband. Appears to be a chill dude. Judging by his short, slightly disheveled ash blonde to brown hair and darting eyes, he seems as lost as Jamal feels. 

Maybe he can bond over their fashionable sense of style and shared hatred over maths… because man doesn't look motivated but quite in the motions.  Quite I don't want to be here, but I have to be. Because I also have to practice this exasperating nerve-wracking subject called maths. Then the stranger meets his eyes— Jamal's heart stumbles and he quickly averts his gaze back at his phone. At Leroy's incoming, 'Sorry, won't make it.'

He doesn't roll his eyes. No. It's fine. Maybe Jamal can make a friend today instead. 

And then the guy passes him by and pulls out keys and unlocks the door, the door to the seminar room, like he's some teacher, like-

he's the teaching assistant, the tutor. 

It swooshes in his mind, any remaining thoughts flying away. He feels stupid for reasons he can't really put into words. And then he feels embarrassed, the back of his neck heating up as he realizes this is the guy who will try to teach you and see you're made of straw and empty space. He peeks down the hall, the urge to run away, hide, pay Leroy to take his math exam overbearingly strong. But then he mentally slaps himself, inhales, rolls his shoulders and braces himself for a challenge. Walks through the door to a medium-sized classroom with tables and chairs arranged in an U-form.  He takes a seat by the side, not immediately at the front, not too far at the back. Just right for an incognito plan to talk and interact as little as possible. 

But his classmates ruin his plan because they sit in groups at the end of the U, or parallel to him and he curses and wishes Leroy was here after all. Because now he's sitting on his own, sticking out like a sore thumb. And he feels the tutor's eyes on him. 

He introduces himself as Florian but he's fine being addressed as Flo as he's "only a semester above you guys, so no need to be formal and all." 

He takes his time to talk, mumbling and correcting himself a lot of times, sometimes fiddling with the hem of his shirt, biting his lips. It's…a little endearing. He's scatterbrained but clear when answering questions, even though there are a grand total of like two being asked for the whole lesson. 

From an outside perspective, Jamal may seem focused: furrowed brows, nodding along, taking notes.