#nerd!jake

your coffee. the cup tipped and spilt, liquid soaking through your jeans, spreading sticky and uncomfortable across your thighs. panic hit first, pure and primal, because for a split second all you could think was laptop, everything's gone, hours of work, my entire project. your hands flew out in the darkness, patting frantically at the desk, trying to assess the damage. your chest was so tight you couldn't get a full breath.

then came the anger. fast and hot and overwhelming, rising from somewhere deep in your stomach. you wanted to scream. wanted to grab whoever crashed into you and shake them. wanted to cry from sheer frustration because this was exactly what you didn't need tonight, not when you were already hanging on by a thread.

"oh my god, oh my god, i'm so sorry, i didn't see you, i didn't think anyone else was here, i'm so sorry." the voice came rapid-fire from somewhere to your left. male, young, pitched higher than normal with genuine distress. 

he kept apologising, words tumbling over each other, and there was something in his tone that didn't sound rehearsed. he sounded actually afraid, like he'd just committed some unforgivable sin. 

"i didn't mean to, i couldn't see, the power just went out and i was trying to get to the door and i'm so sorry, did it get on your laptop? please tell me it didn't get on your laptop."

you took a breath, trying to force words past the tightness in your throat, trying to formulate some response that matched the fury still coursing through your veins. your mouth opened, something sharp and cutting right on the edge of your tongue.

the emergency lighting kicked in. not much, just pale green strips along the baseboards casting everything in eerie, insufficient glow. enough to see by. enough to make out shapes, faces.

the guy who'd run into you stood about two feet away, and the first thing you noticed was his hands. hovering in the air between you, trembling visibly even in the dim light, fingers spread like he wanted to help but didn't dare touch anything. he was tall and lean, dark hair stuck up in odd directions like he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. glasses had slipped down his nose, and behind them his eyes were wide. genuinely panicked in a way that didn't feel performed at all.

"your laptop," he said, voice still shaking with that same desperate concern. "what model is it? did the coffee get on it? the keyboard is the main concern, if liquid got into the keyboard we need to shut it down immediately and flip it over to drain, we need to know if you had everything backed up." 

he was already moving closer, trembling hands reaching toward your desk, and you realised with a start that he hadn't even looked at you properly yet. his entire focus was on your laptop. on the problem he'd created. on fixing it.

"it's fine," you managed, voice coming out rougher than intended. you looked down at your computer. sitting safely to the right of where your coffee had been, completely dry and unharmed. "it didn't get on it."

the relief that washed over his face was so profound you almost felt embarrassed witnessing it. his shoulders sagged. his hands finally dropped to his sides. he let out a long, shaky breath like he'd been holding it since the collision.

 "okay. okay, that's good, that's really good." then, almost as an afterthought, his eyes finally moved to actually look at you. taking in your coffee-soaked lap, your tense posture, your expression which you were sure wasn't friendly. "are you okay? did you get burned? that coffee looked hot, if it was hot we should get you to a sink, run cold water on it."

"it was cold," you said. true, but didn't make the situation better. your jeans were soaked through, fabric clinging uncomfortably to your skin, coffee starting to seep into your chair. you were sticky and irritated and still running on too much adrenaline. but he looked so genuinely distressed that some of your anger started deflating despite yourself.

"cold coffee is still a problem," he said, already pulling his backpack off his shoulder, unzipping it with fumbling fingers. "the sugar content means it'll get sticky when it dries, and it can stain, especially on lighter fabrics. i have napkins, i think, or maybe paper towels, i definitely have something." 

he was rummaging through his bag now, pulling out crumpled papers, a graphing calculator, several pens, tangled earbuds, talking the entire time in that same rapid, anxious way. 

"i'm really sorry, i should have been more careful, i knew the power was out, i should have used my phone flashlight, i just thought i knew the layout well enough to navigate in the dark but obviously i was wrong."

you watched him. something uncomfortable shifted in your chest. you'd been prepared to snap at him, to unleash all your accumulated frustration on whoever had been careless enough to run into you. but he wasn't making excuses. wasn't trying to minimise what he'd done or deflect blame or make some joke to lighten the mood. he was just genuinely, almost painfully concerned about the problem he'd created. the way he kept apologising, kept trying to fix things, made it very hard to stay angry.

"here," he said triumphantly, producing a small pack of tissues from the bottom of his bag. he held them out, then seemed to realise how inadequate they were and let out a frustrated sound. "these aren't going to be enough. we should go to the bathroom, get some actual paper towels. or maybe the kitchen area on the second floor, they have those industrial dispensers that are way more absorbent." 

he paused, finally seeming to register that you hadn't moved, that you were just sitting there watching him. his ears went red, visible even in the dim green emergency lighting. "sorry, i'm sorry, i'm doing it again. my sister always tells me i go into problem-solving mode when i'm anxious and it makes people feel like i'm not actually listening to them. are you okay? like, actually okay, not just physically okay?"

the question caught you off guard. nobody had asked you that in days. maybe weeks. everyone just assumed you were fine because you were handling things, meeting deadlines, showing up to class. but this stranger who'd just spilt coffee all over you was looking at you with genuine concern, waiting for a real answer. something in your chest felt suddenly too tight.

"i'm fine," you said, softer than intended. you took the tissues from him, dabbing uselessly at your jeans. he was right. they weren't nearly enough. but the gesture felt important somehow. "it's been a long night."

"assignments?" he asked. when you nodded he made a sympathetic noise. "yeah, same. i've been here since six. had a project deadline at midnight but then the power went out fifteen minutes before and now i don't know if my submission went through because the wifi died with the electricity." he pushed his glasses up his nose. nervous gesture you got the impression he did frequently. 

"i'm jake, by the way. jake sim. i feel like i should probably introduce myself since i just, like, assaulted you with your own beverage."

despite everything, ruined jeans and exhaustion and broken code, you felt the corner of your mouth twitch. not quite a smile, but close. "assaulted me with my own beverage?"

"well, yeah," he said, looking vaguely embarrassed. "i mean, i weaponised your coffee against you. that's technically assault, right? or maybe battery? i always get those mixed up. my roommate's a poli-sci major, he'd know."

 he was rambling now, words spilling out in that same anxious rush, and there was something almost endearing about how completely lacking in artifice it was. he wasn't trying to be charming. wasn't trying to be funny. just genuinely nervous and dealing with it by talking too much.

you told him your name. he repeated it carefully, like he was committing it to memory. "i really am sorry," he said again, quieter this time. "what were you working on? before i interrupted?"

"data structures project," you said. just thinking about it made your shoulders tense again. "it's due tomorrow and there's a bug i can't figure out and i've been staring at it for hours."

his eyes lit up behind his glasses, spark of interest that transformed his whole face. "what kind of bug? runtime error? logic error? is it a pointer issue? those are always the worst, especially with linked lists."

 he was already moving closer to your laptop, stopping himself at the last second like he'd realised he was being presumptuous. "sorry, i mean, i could take a look if you want? i'm pretty good with data structures. it's kind of my thing. i'm a TA for comp 201 actually, so i see a lot of common bugs. but also totally no pressure, i know i just dumped coffee on you so you probably don't want my help."

you should have said no. didn't know this guy, didn't owe him anything. you'd been managing just fine on your own. except you hadn't been managing fine. you'd been on the verge of a breakdown in an empty lab at midnight. now here was this nervous, rambling stranger offering help without expecting anything in return, looking at you like your problem was genuinely important to him.

it was disorienting. how quickly your anger had evaporated, replaced by something you couldn't quite name. you found yourself noticing details you shouldn't care about. the way he kept pushing his glasses up. the way his hands had finally stopped shaking now that he had something concrete to focus on.

"okay," you heard yourself say. his whole face brightened in a way that made something flutter uncomfortably in your stomach. "yeah, if you don't mind looking at it."

"i don't mind at all," he said quickly, already pulling up a chair. he left careful distance between you though, hyper-aware of not invading your space again. "show me what you've got."

you turned your laptop toward him. he leaned in, eyes scanning the lines with immediate focus. his expression shifted into something concentrated, intense. this was probably what he looked like when he wasn't tripping over people in the dark and panicking about it. he started asking questions about your implementation, your logic, what you'd already tried. his voice had lost that nervous edge. this was clearly where he was comfortable. in the clean logic of code, in problems that had solutions.

you answered his questions. watched as he nodded, occasionally pushing his glasses up, finger tracing lines of code on the screen without quite touching it. the emergency lighting cast strange shadows across his face, highlighting his cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw, the way his brow furrowed in concentration.

you were noticing things you shouldn't notice. but you told yourself it wasn't because you found him attractive. you were just paying attention because he was helping. because he'd disrupted your solitary misery and replaced it with something else. something that felt almost like companionship.

"there," he said suddenly, pointing to a line in the middle of your function. "you're incrementing the counter before you check the condition, but you need to check the condition first. it's causing an off-by-one error. see? you're accessing index n when your array only goes up to n minus one."

you stared at the line he was indicating. slowly, horribly, you realised he was right. such a simple mistake, the kind of thing you should have caught hours ago. but you'd been too tired, too frustrated, too deep in your own head to see it. "oh my god," you said quietly. "that's it. that's the whole problem."

"easy fix," jake said, smiling now. a real smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "just move that line down two spaces and add the conditional check first. you want me to...?" he gestured at your keyboard, asking permission. you nodded, watched as he made the adjustment with quick, confident keystrokes. "there. try running it now."

you hit compile, holding your breath. for the first time in two days the program ran without errors. the output printed exactly the way it was supposed to. clean and correct and perfect. relief flooded through you so intensely you felt dizzy with it, all the tension you'd been carrying suddenly releasing at once. "thank you," you said, voice more emotional than intended. "seriously, thank you, i've been losing my mind over this."

"it happens to everyone," jake said gently. "sometimes you just need fresh eyes. i've definitely been there." he leaned back in his chair, that nervous energy returning now that the immediate problem was solved. "your code is really clean, by the way. like, really well-structured. that bug was literally the only issue, everything else is solid."

the compliment settled warm in your chest. you realised with a start that you felt calm. actually calm, for the first time all night. your heart rate had slowed. your hands were steady. the overwhelming pressure behind your eyes had eased.

the lab was still too quiet, the emergency lighting still eerie and insufficient, your jeans still soaked with cold coffee. but somehow none of it felt as unbearable as it had fifteen minutes ago. and that was because of him. because jake had crashed into you in the dark and apologised too much and fixed your code and made you feel less alone in this empty building at midnight.

jake was gathering his things, shoving papers and pens back into his backpack with the same energy he'd had while searching for tissues. "i should probably try to find someone about the power situation," he said. "and you should probably change before that coffee stains permanently. there's a campus store in the student centre that's open twenty-four hours, they have overpriced sweatpants but at least they're dry."

"yeah," you said, surprised to find you didn't want him to leave yet. "yeah, i probably should."

he stood up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, and hesitated. "hey, um. if you ever need help with code stuff again, or if you just want to work in the lab at the same time, i'm here most nights. usually not spilling beverages on people, but, you know. tonight was special." he smiled awkwardly. you found yourself smiling back, a real smile this time.

"i might take you up on that," you said. meant it.

jake's expression brightened again. that same transformation you'd noticed earlier. he nodded. "cool. yeah, that would be cool. okay. i'm gonna go now before i accidentally break something else." he gave you a small wave, started toward the door, then turned back. "your code really is good, by the way. i wasn't just saying that."

then he was gone, disappearing into the dark hallway beyond the lab. you were alone again. but that realisation, that awareness that a stranger's clumsy kindness had affected you so much, sat uncomfortable and warm in your chest as you saved your work and finally, finally, packed up to leave.

you walked into your lecture the next morning running on four hours of sleep and caffeine-induced alertness that felt vaguely hallucinogenic. your jeans from last night were balled up in your laundry basket, probably stained beyond saving, and you'd thrown on the first clean thing you could find. 

you slid into your usual spot next to yunjin, who was already comparing notes with beomgyu across the aisle. they were your people. your safe zone. the ones you'd suffered through intro courses with, pulled all-nighters with, shared desperate pre-exam breakdowns with.

"you look like death," yunjin said cheerfully, not looking up from her phone.

"thanks. love you too."

"late night?" beomgyu leaned over, stealing one of yunjin's chips. "you missed the group chat meltdown about the algorithms homework."

you hummed noncommittally, pulling out your laptop. your code from last night was still open, that perfect, error-free output staring back at you. you'd submitted it at 12:47 am, seventeen minutes after jake had fixed it. seventeen minutes after he'd disappeared down that dark hallway.

you hadn't told yunjin and beomgyu about any of it. the power outage, the coffee, jake. especially jake. it felt somehow private, like explaining it would cheapen it or make it feel less significant than it had been in the moment.

professor kim walked in, and the room settled into that particular brand of restless attention that morning lectures always had. "alright, alright," she said, pulling up a slide that made half the room groan in unison. "i know you're all thrilled to hear this, but it's time to discuss your semester-long project."

chairs scraped against floors as people twisted around to look at their friends. voices overlapped, people already calling out names, forming pairs out of habit and convenience. you felt yunjin's hand on your arm at the same time beomgyu leaned over.

"partners?" yunjin said.

"obviously we're doing a group," beomgyu added. "the three of us, right?"

you nodded, half-listening, your attention already drifting across the lecture hall. you weren't sure what you were looking for until you found it. him. jake was sitting near the back with a small group of guys you vaguely recognised from other cs classes. he was hunched slightly over his notebook, pen moving across the page, taking notes while everyone else was busy forming alliances. his hair was even messier today, sticking up on one side like he'd rolled out of bed. his glasses kept sliding down his nose and he kept pushing them back up with his index finger, that same nervous gesture from last night.

he looked small somehow, despite being tall. like he was trying to take up less space. one of his friends said something and laughed, nudging jake's shoulder, but jake just smiled politely without really engaging. his attention stayed on his notebook.

you watched him for a moment longer than necessary. watched the way his shoulders curved inward, the way he held his pen, the concentrated furrow of his brow. something in your chest did an uncomfortable little flip.

"so we're agreed then?" yunjin was saying. "i'll handle the frontend, beomgyu can do the database stuff, and you can—"

you stood up. the decision happened before you'd fully processed it, your body moving on instinct or impulse or something you didn't want to examine too closely. your chair scraped loud enough that a few people glanced over.

"actually," you said, already stepping past beomgyu into the aisle. "i'm gonna partner with someone else."

"what?" yunjin's voice pitched up in genuine confusion. "who?"

but you were already walking. moving up the steps toward the back of the lecture hall, weaving between people who were still negotiating partnerships and arguing about skill distributions. you were aware of people watching. of yunjin and beomgyu's matching expressions of confusion. of the way conversations paused as you passed.

jake's friends noticed you first. one of them, a guy with bleached hair, nudged jake's arm and nodded in your direction. another one went quiet mid-sentence, eyes tracking your approach with unconcealed curiosity. jake looked up last, following their gazes, and when his eyes met yours he froze. actually froze, pen suspended over his notebook, lips slightly parted like he'd been about to say something and forgotten how.

you stopped at the edge of their row. suddenly hyperaware of how many people were definitely watching this interaction. "hey," you said, aiming for casual and landing somewhere near awkward. "you have a partner yet?"

jake blinked. once, twice. his friends were staring at him now, then at you, then back at him like they were watching a tennis match. "i—what?"

"for the project," you clarified, gesturing vaguely at professor kim who was still explaining requirements at the front of the room. "do you have a partner?"

"i—" jake's hand came up to push his glasses up his nose even though they hadn't moved. his ears were already turning red. "no? i mean, no, i don't, but—" he glanced at his friends, then back at you, looking genuinely lost. "are you—do you mean—"

"i'm asking if you want to partner up," you said, more directly this time. your heart was doing something weird and arrhythmic in your chest. "for the semester project."

the guy with bleached hair made a noise that might have been a strangled laugh. another one of jake's friends just gaped openly. jake himself looked like you'd just spoken to him in a language he only half understood. "you want to—with me?"

"yeah."

"but—" he gestured helplessly toward where yunjin and beomgyu were sitting, both of them now watching with unconcealed shock. "don't you usually work with your friends? i thought—"

"i'm asking you," you said, cutting him off before he could talk himself out of it or before you could overthink what you were doing. "if you already have other plans it's fine, i just thought—" you paused, scrambling for justification that didn't sound insane. "you're good at this stuff. you're a TA. you knew exactly what was wrong with my code last night in like, five seconds. it makes sense. strategically."

strategically. god, you sounded unhinged.

jake stared at you. his friends stared at you. half the lecture hall was probably staring at you at this point. "i—" jake swallowed visibly. "yeah. yes. i mean, if you want to, then—yeah. okay."

"yeah?"

"yeah." he nodded, more firmly this time, though he still looked vaguely shell-shocked. "we can—yeah. that would be—yeah."

his friends exchanged glances that were absolutely loaded with unspoken communication. the bleached hair guy, jungwon you think, was grinning now, looking between you and jake like he'd just witnessed something phenomenal. "well," he said, voice thick with amusement, "this is interesting."

you ignored him. "cool. we should probably meet up sometime this week to go over the requirements?"

"yeah, definitely," jake said quickly, already pulling out his phone with hands that trembled slightly. "i can—do you want my number? or i can get yours, or—we could use email if that's easier—"

"number's fine." you rattled it off, watching him type it into his contacts with endearing focus, tongue poking slightly between his teeth. when he looked up his expression was softer, less panicked. almost shy.

"okay," he said. "i'll text you?"

"sounds good."

you turned to head back down to your seat, acutely aware of the weight of multiple stares following your retreat. yunjin grabbed your arm the second you sat down, eyes wide with questions, but professor kim chose that moment to actually start the lecture and yunjin had to settle for furious whisper-hissing "what the hell was that?" while you studiously ignored her.

you pulled up your laptop, pretending to focus on the slides about project requirements and grading rubrics. but your attention kept drifting. you could feel it, that awareness of jake sitting several rows behind you. you wondered if he was taking notes. if his friends were grilling him. if his ears were still red.

you told yourself this was practical. logical. jake was skilled, focused, clearly knew his stuff. working with him made sense from a grades perspective, from an efficiency perspective. it was a smart choice. strategic, like you'd said.

but the justification felt thin even as you repeated it to yourself. because practical partnerships didn't make your pulse spike like this. strategic choices didn't leave you feeling weirdly breathless, or hyperaware of your phone in your pocket, waiting for a text that might come in an hour or a day. smart decisions didn't come with this flutter of satisfaction sitting warm and dangerous in your chest, the kind that felt unearned and a little reckless.

you'd just chosen jake over your actual friends for a semester-long project. you'd walked across the entire lecture hall in front of everyone to ask him specifically. you'd done it without planning it, without fully understanding why, acting on instinct alone.

your phone buzzed. you grabbed it maybe too quickly, ignoring yunjin's pointed look.

unknown number: hi, it's jake. from the lab? and also from just now. obviously. you know who i am. anyway this is my number. unknown number: we can meet whenever works for you btw. i'm pretty flexible. unknown number: sorry i'm rambling over text now apparently. i'll stop.

despite everything, despite the weirdness of the entire situation, you felt yourself smile. properly smile, which made yunjin lean over and whisper, "oh my god, you're blushing," which you absolutely were not.

you saved his number. typed out a response. deleted it. typed it again.

you: library tomorrow at 6?

his reply came almost instantly.

jake: perfect. i'll see you there.

yeah. perfect. that's exactly what this was.

you'd gotten there ten minutes early, which was ridiculous and you knew it, but you'd told yourself it was just to secure a good table. not because you were nervous. definitely not because you'd changed your shirt three times.

jake showed up at 6:02, slightly out of breath like he'd been rushing, backpack slung over one shoulder and hair even messier than usual. 

"sorry, sorry," he said, sliding into the chair across from you. "my last class ran over and then i couldn't find my charger and—" he stopped himself, ears going pink. "sorry. you don't need the full explanation. i'm here now."

"you're fine," you said, surprised by how much you meant it. "i just got here too."

it was a lie, but whatever.

he pulled out his laptop, a slightly battered thing covered in tech company stickers, and immediately opened what looked like a meticulously organised project folder. 

"so i was thinking we could start by breaking down the requirements," he said, already pulling up the assignment sheet. "if we divide it into modules we can work on different parts simultaneously and then integrate everything at the end. i made a rough outline last night, but obviously we can change whatever you want."

you blinked at him. "you made an outline? already?"

"i—yeah?" he looked uncertain suddenly, like he'd done something wrong. "was that—should i not have? i just thought it would be helpful to have a starting point, but if you wanted to plan it together—"

"no, that's—" you leaned closer to look at his screen, close enough that you could smell whatever soap or shampoo he used. something clean and faintly citrusy. "that's really good actually. you're like, super organised."

"oh." he pushed his glasses up, not quite meeting your eyes. "thanks. i just like having things structured, it makes the actual coding part less chaotic."

you shifted your chair around the table, closing the distance between you under the pretence of seeing his screen better. your knees almost touched under the table. jake didn't seem to notice, already walking you through his outline with the kind of focused enthusiasm that made his whole face more animated. he talked with his hands a little, you realised. small gestures that punctuated his explanations.

it was kind of endearing. he was kind of endearing, in this unpolished, genuine way that made you want to keep watching him talk even though you should probably be paying attention to the actual content of what he was saying.

"—so if we use that framework it'll save us a ton of time on the backend. does that make sense?" he glanced at you, expectant.

"yeah, totally," you said, even though you'd caught maybe half of it. "you're really good at this."

"at what?"

"explaining things. breaking stuff down." you let your voice soften deliberately, the kind of tone you'd use on someone you were interested in. testing. "you must be a really good TA."

jake's expression brightened with genuine pleasure, completely innocent. "oh, thanks! i really like teaching actually. it's really satisfying when something clicks for someone, you know?" he turned back to his laptop. "okay so for the first module, i was thinking we could—"

you felt something deflate slightly in your chest. he'd just. moved on. thanked you politely and redirected straight back to work like you'd commented on the weather.

you tried again twenty minutes later, when he'd finished explaining the database architecture. "seriously, how is your brain even wired like this?" you said, letting your hand rest on the table between you, close enough to his that moving a few inches would mean touching. "like, this would've taken me hours to figure out and you just see it."

"i mean, i've been coding since i was like twelve," jake said, smiling in that self-deprecating way that made your stomach flip. "my dad's a software engineer so i kind of grew up around it. you'd be just as good if you'd had the same exposure." 

he grabbed his water bottle, took a sip, completely oblivious to the way you were looking at him. "anyway, should we start on the initial setup? i can handle the repository if you want to draft the pseudocode for the first function?"

"sure," you said, trying not to sound as frustrated as you felt.

it continued like that. you'd find little ways to compliment him, to touch his arm when he said something funny, to lean into his space. and every single time jake would light up with friendly appreciation and then just. keep going. keep working. keep being nice in this utterly platonic way that was starting to drive you slightly insane.

when you suggested taking a break and offered to buy him coffee, he'd said "oh that's so sweet, but i'm good, i don't want to lose momentum." when you'd asked about his hobbies, trying to find some common ground beyond code, he'd given you a genuine answer about gaming and soccer and then immediately asked about your hobbies with the same earnest interest he gave to literally everything.

he wasn't being cold. wasn't being dismissive. he was just. friendly. sincerely friendly in a way that suggested he thought you were also just being friendly and nothing more. the idea that you might be flirting with him clearly hadn't even crossed his mind.

it shouldn't have bothered you. it was one study session. you barely knew him. but there was something about the way he was so completely unaffected that made you want to push harder, try more obviously, make him see you the way you were apparently seeing him.

which was insane. you were being insane.

"okay i think that's a good stopping point," jake said eventually, glancing at his phone. "we got through way more than i expected, honestly. you're really fast at this."

"we work well together," you said, maybe too much emphasis on the together part.

"yeah," he agreed easily, already packing up his stuff. "this is gonna be way less painful than i thought. usually group projects are a nightmare but i think we're pretty compatible."

compatible. he said it like he was talking about software versions.

you packed up your own stuff, trying to shake off whatever weird frustrated feeling had settled in your chest. this was good. you had a competent partner who was easy to work with. that's what mattered. not whether he noticed when you laughed at his jokes or sat closer than strictly necessary.

the library had gotten dark outside while you'd been working, the early winter darkness that feeking too heavy for eight pm. you pushed through the doors together, the cold air immediately biting at your face.

"which way are you headed?" jake asked, adjusting his backpack.

you pointed toward the east side of campus. "miller hall."

jake stopped walking. just fully stopped and stared at you. "wait, seriously?"

"yeah?"

"i'm in miller," he said, and his face did this thing, this open, delighted thing like you'd just told him something genuinely exciting. "i'm on the fourth floor. what floor are you?"

"third," you said, trying to keep your voice normal even though your brain was already racing ahead. same building. same building. you lived in the same building and you hadn't known. "that's—what are the odds?"

"i know, right?" jake fell into step beside you, and he seemed more relaxed now, less formal than he'd been in the library. "i can't believe we haven't run into each other before. though i guess i'm not around that much, i'm usually either in class or the lab or—" he laughed. "okay i'm making myself sound really boring."

"no you're not," you said, maybe too quickly. "i'm the same way. especially during midterms."

"the worst," he agreed. "hey, at least now if we need to meet up for the project it's super convenient. we can literally just knock on each other's doors."

he said it so casually. so normally, like it was just a nice logistical benefit and nothing more. meanwhile your mind was already cataloguing possibilities. you could time your meals to match his schedule. figure out when he usually left for class. find reasons to be in the common areas when he might pass through. it would look natural, coincidental. just friendly neighbors running into each other.

you were already strategising.

the realisation made something uncomfortable twist in your stomach. this was. this was too much maybe. you were thinking about him too much, cataloguing details about him like you were studying for an exam. getting frustrated when he didn't respond to your flirting even though you had no actual reason to expect him to. you'd had one late-night interaction and now one study session and somehow you were already rearranging your mental map of campus to accommodate his presence in it.

"you good?" jake asked, and you realised you'd gone quiet.

"yeah, just tired."

"same." he smiled at you, easy and warm. "thanks for picking me as your partner, by the way. i know you could've worked with your friends and i'm—i'm really glad you asked me instead. i think this is gonna be fun."

fun. he was looking forward to the project because he thought it would be fun. because he liked coding and teaching and he probably thought you were a cool person to work with. he was just. happy to have company. happy to make a new friend.

meanwhile you were over here planning imaginary coincidental run-ins and getting weirdly possessive over someone who didn't even know you liked him.

god, you were pathetic.

"yeah," you managed. "me too."

you reached miller hall, and jake held the door open for you, still talking about some technique he wanted to try for the project. you half-listened, watching the way his hair flopped over his forehead, the animated way he gestured when he got excited about something.

the elevator ride to your floor felt too short. jake got off with you, said he'd just walk up the extra flight of stairs for the exercise. "text me if you think of anything for the project," he said, already heading toward the stairwell. "or honestly just text me whenever. i'm always on my phone."

then he was gone, and you were standing alone in the hallway outside your door, feeling weirdly deflated and wired at the same time.

your phone buzzed before you'd even gotten your key out.

jake: forgot to say this but your idea for the UI was really smart. i think it's gonna make the whole thing way more intuitive. jake: ok NOW i'm done bothering you. have a good night!

you stared at the messages, that dangerous warm feeling spreading through your chest again. he'd texted you immediately to compliment your idea. with absolutely no prompting.

you were smiling at your phone like an idiot.

yeah. you were definitely pathetic.

"i'm just saying, he's clearly not interested," yunjin said, stabbing her salad with more force than necessary. "like, you've tried everything."

you were sitting in the dining hall, picking at your food while yunjin and beomgyu conducted what was essentially an intervention about your jake situation. an intervention you hadn't asked for and definitely didn't want.

"maybe he's just shy," you said, defensive.

beomgyu snorted. "shy guys still notice when someone's flirting with them. they just get weird about it. this guy sounds like he genuinely has no idea."

"which means he's not into you," yunjin added, gentler now. "and that's fine, you know? you can just be project partners. you don't have to keep torturing yourself."

except the thing was, you weren't entirely convinced jake wasn't interested. or maybe you just didn't want to accept it yet. because he texted you unprompted sometimes, sent you memes he thought you'd find funny, always smiled when he saw you in the hallway. that had to mean something, right?

"i'm not torturing myself," you muttered.

"you've mentioned him like fifteen times in the past hour," beomgyu pointed out.

"have not."

"you literally just told us about how he holds his pen. his pen."

okay. maybe you were torturing yourself a little.

you left the dining hall feeling irritated and restless, your friends' words circling in your head. he's not interested. he has no idea. you're torturing yourself. maybe they were right. probably they were right. you should just focus on the project, get a good grade, and move on like a normal person.

you were cutting through the student centre, not really paying attention to where you were going, when you passed the community bulletin board. the usual chaos of flyers and posters, study abroad programs, club meetings, someone selling a barely-used microwave. your eyes skimmed over it automatically, not really looking.

then you saw his name.

TUTORING AVAILABLE - COMP 101, 201, 301

patient, experienced, flexible schedule

contact: jake sim

there was a row of little tear-off tabs at the bottom with his phone number. several were already missing. the flyer itself was simple, almost plain. you stared at it. people flowed around you, conversations and footsteps and the ambient noise of the student centre, but you just stood there staring at jake's handwritten flyer.

you didn't need tutoring. your grades were fine. good, even. you and jake were in the same advanced class, for god's sake. he'd probably seen your test scores when he was TAing. this would be…obvious. wouldn't it? taking a tab would be transparent and desperate and—

your hand moved before you'd fully decided. the paper tore with a soft sound that felt too loud. you stared at the little strip in your palm, jake's number printed in his neat handwriting even though you already had it saved in your phone.

what were you doing?

you shoved the tab in your pocket and walked away quickly, like someone might have witnessed you doing something incriminating. your heart was beating too fast. this was insane. this was transparent. he was going to see right through it.

but.

but it was also legitimate, wasn't it? people got tutoring all the time, even when their grades were fine. wanting to understand the material better, wanting a different perspective, wanting to be extra prepared. those were all valid reasons. normal reasons. and yeah, maybe you had ulterior motives, but the cover story was solid enough that you could maintain plausible deniability. to him. to yourself.

you made it back to your dorm before you pulled out your phone.

you: hey! i saw your tutoring flyer in the student centre. do you still have availability?

you hit send before you could overthink it. then immediately started overthinking it anyway. he was going to ask why. he was going to point out that you clearly didn't need help. he was going to—

your phone buzzed.

jake<3: oh hey! yeah i have some slots open. but wait, aren't you doing pretty well in class? i've seen your test scores when i'm grading and you're like, consistently in the top range jake<3: not that you CAN'T get tutoring obviously! everyone can benefit from extra help jake<3: i just want to make sure you actually need it and aren't just being nice or something

god, he was even considerate about this. checking in to make sure you weren't wasting your time or money on something you didn't need. being thoughtful and genuine while you were over here manipulating the situation to manufacture more time with him.

you felt a twinge of something uncomfortable. guilt maybe. but you pushed it down.

you: i mean yeah my grades are okay, but i feel like i'm just memorising patterns without really UNDERSTANDING the concepts you know? like i can solve the problems but i couldn't explain WHY you: i just want to make sure i actually get it. especially since the material keeps building on itself

it wasn't entirely a lie. you did sometimes feel like you were pattern-matching your way through assignments. and deeper understanding was always good. these were reasonable concerns. the fact that they weren't your primary motivation didn't make them untrue.

jake<3: oh yeah that makes total sense actually. i see that a lot with students. they can execute but the underlying logic isn't solid jake<3: okay yeah we can definitely work on that! my rate is $20/hour but honestly for you i'd be happy to just do it for free? since we're already working together on the project anyway

you: no way i'm paying you. you're already helping me so much with the project

jake<3: the project is a two person thing, you're helping me just as much jake<3: but okay we can argue about payment later. when works for you?

you felt that warm, dangerous flutter again. he'd offered to tutor you for free. just casually, like it was no big deal. like spending extra time with you was something he actively wanted to do, even without compensation.

you: i'm pretty flexible. whenever you have time

jake<3: thursdays at 7? we could do the library again or somewhere on our floor if you want somewhere quieter jake<3: also i promise i'll actually TEACH and not just fix your code for you like last time lol

you smiled at your phone. somewhere on your floor. which meant his room or yours. which meant private, just the two of you, no other students around.

you: thursdays work for me! 

jake<3: cool! we can switch off. i'll bring snacks jake<3: this'll be fun :)

he'd sent a smiley face. an actual emoticon. it shouldn't have made your heart skip but it did.

you locked your phone and sat on your bed, that satisfaction settling warm in your chest. you'd done it. you'd created a legitimate, recurring excuse to see jake outside of project work. an hour a week, minimum, where you'd have his complete attention. where you could sit close to him in the privacy of a dorm room, help him help you, let those boundaries get just a little bit blurrier.

it was harmless. he was offering tutoring anyway, you were just taking him up on it. and yeah, maybe your motivations weren't entirely pure, but you weren't lying to him. not really. you did want to understand the material better. the fact that you also wanted to be around him more was just. additional context. secondary reasoning.

you were being smart about this, honestly. creating opportunities without being pushy. letting things develop naturally within structures that already existed.

you ignored the small, quiet voice in the back of your mind that whispered this was too much. that you were engineering situations and manufacturing proximity and maybe that wasn't as harmless as you wanted to believe. that jake was offering to help you in good faith while you had an agenda he knew nothing about.

you were good at ignoring that voice.

your phone buzzed again.

jake<3: btw i've been thinking about the database structure and i had an idea

and just like that you were smiling again, typing back, that uncomfortable feeling dissolving into something easier and warmer and more immediately gratifying.

it was fine. everything was fine. this was just tutoring. just spending time with someone you enjoyed being around. there was nothing wrong with that.

nothing wrong with it at all.

you'd been doing the tutoring sessions for three weeks when your roommate officially moved out. well, not officially officially. her stuff was still there, her side of the room still technically occupied. but she'd been spending every night at her boyfriend's off-campus apartment for the past month, and one day she just stopped pretending she was coming back.

"i'm still paying rent," she'd said, shoving clothes into a duffel bag. "so like, it's still my room. i'll probably crash here sometimes. but you basically have the place to yourself."

you'd nodded sympathetically while internally celebrating. your own space. privacy. no need to coordinate schedules or deal with her boyfriend's annoying habits. it was perfect.

it took you less than a day to realise it was perfect for other reasons too.

the next tutoring session was supposed to be in the library. thursday at seven, like always. but you'd been sitting in your empty apartment that afternoon, looking at your space with new eyes, and the idea had planted itself so naturally you'd almost convinced yourself it was practical.

you: hey, would you maybe want to do tutoring at my place tonight instead? my roommate moved in with her boyfriend so it's way quieter than the library you: totally fine if you prefer the library though!

the response took longer than usual. long enough that you started second-guessing yourself. maybe this was too much. too obvious. crossing some line from study partner into something else.

jake<3: oh jake<3: um jake<3: yeah that's fine. if you're sure? jake<3: i don't want to like. intrude or anything jake<3: but yeah quieter is definitely better for focusing

you: you're not intruding i literally invited you haha you: i'm in 3B. just come by at 7

jake<3: okay! see you then

you spent the next two hours in a cleaning frenzy you absolutely did not want to examine too closely. you weren't trying to impress him. you just wanted the place to look nice and presentable. the fact that you changed your clothes twice and lit a candle that made the whole apartment smell like vanilla and sandalwood was just. coincidence.

the knock came at exactly seven. jake was annoyingly punctual.

you opened the door to find him standing in the hallway looking uncertain, backpack slung over one shoulder, holding a bag of chips. "hi," he said. "i brought snacks. i didn't know what you liked so i just got the variety pack."

"you didn't have to do that."

"i know, but—" he shifted his weight. "i don't know, it felt weird showing up empty-handed."

you stepped back to let him in, watching as he moved into your space with obvious hesitation. he didn't walk in so much as carefully entered, like he was worried about disturbing something. his eyes went immediately to your walls, taking in the art prints you'd hung, the string lights, the bookshelf crammed with novels and textbooks. then to your desk setup, the small kitchen area, the couch that your roommate had left behind.

"wow," he said quietly. "this is. really nice."

"it's just a dorm apartment."

"no, i know, but—" he gestured vaguely at everything. "it's decorated. like, actually decorated. my place looks like a prison cell compared to this." he was still standing near the door, like he hadn't fully committed to being here. "is that an original print?"

you glanced at the framed artwork he was pointing at. "yeah. local artist. i got it at a campus market thing."

"it's really cool." he finally took a few more steps inside, setting his backpack down carefully on the floor like he was afraid it might scuff something. his attention caught on your kitchen counter, where you'd left out the fancy coffee you'd bought yesterday. the expensive cheese and crackers. the fruit you'd pre-cut and arranged in a bowl because apparently you were that person now.

jake went quiet for a second. then he laughed, but it sounded a little uncomfortable. "okay i have to ask. are you like, rich?"

you felt your face heat. "what? no."

"because this—" he gestured at your apartment again, at the candle burning on your coffee table, the throw blanket artfully draped over your couch, the general aesthetic coherence of the space. "this seems like. i don't know. very put together for a college student."

"i just like my space to feel nice," you said, defensive. "there's nothing wrong with that."

"no, definitely not! i didn't mean—" he ran a hand through his hair, flustered. "i just meant. my room has like, a bed and a desk and some clothes on the floor. this looks like an apartment from a magazine. in a good way," he added quickly. "it's impressive. i'm just. you know. mildly intimidated."

"don't be intimidated," you said, softer now. trying for casual. "seriously, make yourself comfortable. do you want something to drink? i have coffee, tea, juice, those fancy sparkling waters—"

"you have fancy sparkling water?"

"they were on sale."

they were absolutely not on sale. you'd bought them specifically because you remembered jake mentioning he liked trying different flavours. but he didn't need to know that.

"um, sure. i'll try one." he was still standing awkwardly in the middle of your living room, like he couldn't figure out where he was allowed to exist.

you grabbed two cans from the fridge, handing him one and gesturing toward the couch. "we can work there if you want. or the desk. whatever's comfortable."

"couch is good," he said, finally sitting down and immediately looking slightly less tense. he opened the sparkling water, took a sip, and made a surprised noise. "oh this is actually really good."

"told you." you sat next to him, closer than you would have in the library. not touching, but close enough that you could feel the warmth of him next to you. close enough that when he leaned forward to pull his laptop out of his backpack, you caught that familiar scent of soap and citrus.

he pulled up the lesson he'd prepared, something about optimisation algorithms, and fell into his teaching rhythm. you'd noticed this about jake before. when he was explaining code, he became more confident. less apologetic. his hands moved as he talked, tracing invisible diagrams in the air, and his whole face became more animated.

you were trying to focus. really, you were. but you kept getting distracted by the fact that he was here, in your space, sitting on your couch. his knee bumped yours at one point and he apologised even though it was barely contact. you told him it was fine. his handwriting was neat when he sketched out examples in your notebook. he had a small scar on his left hand you'd never noticed before.

"are you following?" he asked, glancing over at you.

"yeah," you said, snapping back to attention. "sorry. just thinking."

"it's kind of a dense topic," he said, apologetic again. "we can take a break if you need."

"no, keep going. you're good at this."

something in his expression softened. "thanks. i—i actually really like doing this. the tutoring, i mean. it's nice having someone to talk through concepts with who actually cares about understanding them properly." he paused, looking around your apartment again like he was seeing it with fresh eyes. "and this is. yeah. this is better than the library for sure."

"yeah?"

"the library's always so loud, even in the quiet sections. and people keep interrupting to ask if they can take chairs from our table." he settled back into your couch slightly, his shoulders loosening. "this is way better. i can actually think here."

you felt that dangerous satisfaction bloom in your chest. this is better. i can actually think here. he was comfortable. in your space. comfortable enough to relax, to take up room, to exist without that careful hesitation he'd had when he first arrived.

"we should do all our sessions here," you said, trying to sound casual. "if you're cool with it."

jake glanced at you, then around the apartment again. for a second you thought he might question it. might recognise this for what it was. but then he just smiled, easy and genuine. "yeah, i'd like that. this is really nice."

"cool," you said. your heart was doing that annoying fluttery thing again.

you went back to the lesson, jake's voice steady and patient as he walked you through increasingly complex problems. his knee stayed pressed against yours. he'd stopped apologising for taking up space. he reached for the fancy crackers you'd set out without asking if it was okay first, just casual and comfortable like he belonged here.

and god help you, you liked seeing him like this. liked having him in your space, surrounded by your things, relaxed and focused and entirely unaware of how much thought you'd put into creating this exact scenario.

he was more comfortable here than he should be. settling into your life with an ease that should have alarmed you but instead just made you want to pull him deeper.

you were playing a game he didn't know existed. creating intimacy in careful increments. manufacturing closeness that felt organic to him but was entirely designed by you.

"okay your turn," jake said, pushing your laptop toward you. "try implementing that function we just talked through."

you pulled the computer into your lap, fingers moving over the keys, hyper-aware of jake watching. of his presence next to you, patient and encouraging. of how easy it would be to let this become routine. thursday nights on your couch, just the two of you, the rest of the world locked outside.

professor kim handed back midterms on a wednesday, and the energy in the lecture hall was exactly what you'd expect. nervous shuffling, people immediately comparing scores, that girl in the front row who always cried regardless of her grade already tearing up.

you flipped your exam over and saw the 100 staring back at you. perfect score. you felt a flush of satisfaction that had nothing to do with the grade itself and everything to do with the fact that jake would see it.

"holy shit," yunjin whispered, leaning over to look. "you got a perfect score?"

"apparently."

"that's insane. i got an 87 and i thought i did well." she shook her head, impressed and maybe slightly annoyed. "what did jake think? he must be so proud, that's basically a direct result of his tutoring."

speaking of jake, he was two rows behind you, and you could hear his friends' voices carrying.

"dude, you got a 98," one of them said. "that's insane."

"i missed this one question," jake said, and he sounded genuinely disappointed. "i can't believe i mixed up the time complexity."

you turned around without really thinking about it, catching his eye. he was already looking at you, and his face did this thing, this hopeful uncertain thing. "how'd you do?"

you held up your exam. his eyes widened.

"you got a hundred?" he said it loud enough that a few people glanced over. then he was standing up, moving past his friends, coming down to your row with his exam still in his hand. "holy shit, that's—that's amazing. you—" he stopped himself, looking almost embarrassed by his own enthusiasm. "sorry, i'm like. weirdly excited about this."

"don't apologise," you said, smiling despite yourself. "you sound more excited than i am."

"because i—" he gestured at your exam, then at you. "you understood it. like really understood it. i could tell during our sessions that things were clicking but seeing it actually translate to a perfect score is just—" he ran his hand through his hair, grinning in a way that made your stomach flip. "i'm really proud of you."

the words hit you weird. i'm proud of you. said with such genuine warmth, such unironic sincerity. like your success was somehow his success too. like he was personally invested in your performance because he'd helped you get there.

except you hadn't really needed the help. you'd manufactured the entire situation. you'd been doing fine before the tutoring started and you'd probably have gotten a perfect score regardless. jake's proud smile was based on a false premise. he thought he'd helped you achieve something when really you'd just. used him. used his time and his patience and his genuine desire to help people, all so you could sit close to him once a week.

something uncomfortable twisted in your chest. you shoved it down.

"i couldn't have done it without you," you said, because that's what you were supposed to say. what he expected to hear. even if it made you feel slightly sick.

"i know, i know. it's a good grade. i just hate making careless mistakes." he smiled at you again, softer this time. "but seriously, i'm really happy for you. you worked really hard for this."

"we should celebrate," you said, before you could second-guess it. "both of us. good scores, successful tutoring, whatever. come over tonight? i'll make dinner, we can watch a movie. my treat, as a thank you."

jake hesitated, just for a second. "you don't have to thank me."

"i want to," you said firmly with a smile. "you've been helping me for weeks and not accepting any payment. the least i can do is feed you."

"when you put it that way." he was smiling again, that easy smile that made your heart do stupid things. "yeah, okay. what time?"

"seven?"

"perfect."

...

you went slightly overboard with dinner. not crazy overboard, just. more effort than was strictly necessary for a casual thank-you meal. homemade pasta, the good parmesan, a salad that actually had more than three ingredients. you'd also bought wine, which felt very adult and sophisticated until you remembered you were literally just having your study partner over.

jake showed up at seven on the dot, holding a bag of cookies from the expensive bakery near campus. "i know you said your treat, but i can't show up empty-handed," he explained, handing them over. "it's like, physically impossible for me."

"you're ridiculous."

"i've been told." he stepped inside, immediately more comfortable than he'd been that first time. he knew where to put his shoes now, where to set his bag. he went straight for the couch like he belonged there.

dinner was easy. conversation flowed naturally, jumping from classes to campus gossip to a debate about whether the dining hall pizza was underrated or genuinely terrible. jake argued passionately for underrated, gesturing with his fork, getting sauce on his chin that he didn't notice until you pointed it out. he laughed, embarrassed, wiping it away.

"wine?" you offered, after you'd cleared the plates.

"oh, um. sure?" he looked uncertain. "i'm not really a big drinker."

"me neither. but we're celebrating, right?"

"right." he accepted the glass you poured, taking a small sip and making a face. "god, why do people like this? it tastes like someone made juice go bad on purpose."

you laughed despite yourself. "it's an acquired taste."

"that's what people say about things that are objectively bad." but he took another sip anyway, settling back into the couch as you pulled up netflix.

you ended up on some action movie neither of you had seen, the kind with improbable stunts and a plot that didn't require much attention. which was good, because you weren't really watching it. you were too aware of jake next to you, closer than he needed to be, his shoulder occasionally brushing yours. he'd finished his wine faster than you expected and seemed looser now, more animated. he kept making commentary on the movie, pointing out plot holes and questionable physics, his hands moving as he talked.

"—and there's no way that building would still be structurally sound after that explosion," he was saying, gesturing at the screen. "like, basic engineering, you know?"

"you're thinking too hard about it."

"i can't help it. my brain won't turn off." he glanced at you, something warm in his expression. "this is nice though. just hanging out. we're always studying or talking about the project, it's cool to just…exist. without an agenda."

without an agenda. the words hit harder than they should have. because you did have an agenda. you'd had one this entire time. this whole evening was carefully constructed, from the homemade dinner to the wine to the deliberately casual intimacy of it all.

"yeah," you managed. "it's nice."

the movie continued. jake shifted closer, his thigh pressing against yours. you didn't move away. his arm ended up along the back of the couch, not quite around your shoulders but close enough that you could feel the warmth of it. neither of you acknowledged it, but neither of you adjusted either.

"can i ask you something?" jake said during a particularly slow part of the movie.

"sure."

"why did you pick me? for the project, i mean." he was looking at you now instead of the screen, his expression curious and open. "you could've worked with your friends. people you already knew. but you walked all the way across the lecture hall to ask me."

your heart kicked up. "i told you. you're good at this stuff."

"yeah, but." he paused, like he was trying to figure out how to phrase something. "it felt like. i don't know. like you went out of your way. and i've been trying to figure out if i'm reading too much into it or if there was something else."

the air felt suddenly thinner. "something else like what?"

"i don't know." he laughed, self-conscious. "i'm probably being weird. forget i said anything."

"jake."

"i just—" he met your eyes, and there was something vulnerable in his expression that made your breath catch. "i really like spending time with you. like, more than i probably should for someone who's just a project partner and tutoring student. and sometimes i think maybe you. i don't know, feel the same? but i'm also really bad at reading these things so i'm probably completely wrong."

oh. oh.

"you're not wrong," you said quietly.

his eyes widened slightly. "i'm not?"

instead of answering, you leaned in. gave him enough time to pull back, to stop this, but he didn't. he met you halfway, his lips soft and uncertain against yours. for a second neither of you moved, the kiss chaste and almost careful. then something shifted. his hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone, and you pressed closer, your fingers curling into his shirt.

jake made a soft sound against your mouth, surprise or maybe pleasure, and kissed you back with more confidence. his other hand found your waist, tentative at first then firmer, pulling you closer. you ended up in his lap somehow, his hands spanning your back, your fingers threading through his hair. he tasted like wine and something sweet from the cookies he'd brought.

"is this okay?" he whispered against your lips, breathing hard.

"yes," you said, and kissed him again before he could second-guess it.

his hands moved under your shirt, warm against your skin, and you felt him shiver when you rolled your hips experimentally. "god," he breathed, sounding almost pained. "we should—are we really—"

"do you want to stop?"

"no. god, no. i just—" he looked up at you, pupils blown, lips kiss-swollen. "i didn't think this would happen. i'm not. i don't usually."

"it's okay," you said softly, meaning it. "we don't have to do anything you don't want."

jake didn’t stop you. instead, he seemed to melt into the contact, his hands trembling as they slid further up your back, skin hot through the thin fabric of your shirt. when you moved to guide him off the couch and onto the rug, he followed with a sort of dazed compliance, his glasses slightly askew on his face.

you knelt between his legs, and the shift in atmosphere was immediate. the movie was still playing—some distant sound of tires screeching—but all you could hear was the ragged, uneven hitch of jake’s breath. when you reached for the button of his jeans, his hand flew to your wrist, not to stop you, but just to steady himself. his knuckles were white.

"are you sure?" he whispered, his voice cracking. "i—i'm not... i don't want to mess this up. our project, the tutoring... i don't want to make things weird for you."

"jake," you said, looking up at him through your lashes. "shut up and let me."

he let out a shaky, half-strangled laugh, his head hitting the base of the couch as he let go of your wrist. "okay. okay, yeah. shutting up."

as you eased his jeans down, you realised the lanky, awkward way he carried himself in the halls was a massive deception. he was built with a surprising, heavy sturdiness that the oversized hoodies always hid. his legs were long, his thighs thick with the kind of muscle that suggested he actually did play soccer as more than just a hobby. and when you finally freed him, you couldn't help the small, sharp intake of breath that escaped you.

"jake," you breathed, your eyes widening. "holy..."

he groaned, the sound vibrating deep in his chest, and covered his eyes with his forearm. "don't. don't look at me like that. i know. i'm sorry, is it... is it too much? i can—"

"it's perfect," you cut him off, reaching out to touch him. his skin was searing, and the moment your fingers closed around him, his entire body jolted like he’d been hit with a live wire.

when you leaned forward to take him into your mouth, jake’s reaction was explosive. he arched off the floor, his fingers tangling desperately in your hair, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. he was so sensitive, so completely overwhelmed by the sensation that it felt like he was losing his grip on reality.

"oh god," he choked out, his voice high and strained. "wait, wait—that's—you’re so... the pressure, i can't—"

you didn't slow down. you liked the way he lost his composure, the way the articulate, logical TA was reduced to incoherent stutters. you used your hands to keep him steady, your tongue swirling around the head of him, and jake’s hips began to move in a frantic, uncoordinated rhythm. he was trying to keep some semblance of control, trying to stay "polite," but the sheer intensity of it was breaking him.

"i'm gonna... i'm actually gonna..." he gasped, his hands tightening in your hair, pulling you closer until he was practically burying himself in you. "please, don't stop. don't stop, just like that—right there—"

he hit his limit with a loud, guttural shout that was muffled only by the back of his hand as he bit down on his own knuckles to stay quiet. his body went rigid, muscles in his arms and chest standing out in sharp relief as he came, the force of it leaving him limp and shuddering against the couch.

it took him a long time to come back down. for several minutes, the only sound in the room was his heavy, labouring breath and the flickering light of the tv. you pulled back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, feeling a fierce, glowing sense of triumph. he looked completely wrecked—hair a disaster, glasses hanging off one ear, chest heaving.

you felt powerful. you’d spent weeks engineering this, calculating every move, and seeing him like this—totally undone by you—was better than any perfect exam score.

"you okay?" you asked, leaning your chin on his knee.

jake let out a long, shaky exhale, finally moving his arm to look at you. his eyes were hazy, his face flushed a deep, beautiful red. "i... think my brain just short-circuited," he whispered, a small, dazed smile tugging at his lips. 

"in a good way?"

"in the best way." he reached out, his fingers trembling as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. "thank you. seriously. i don't—i don't even know what to say."

you smiled, leaning into his touch. the apartment was warm, the air still smelling of vanilla. "you don't have to say anything. you should just stay."

the words were soft, natural. it felt like the obvious next step. but the second they left your mouth, you felt the shift.

it was subtle at first—the way jake’s fingers went still against your skin. then his pupils, which had been blown wide with pleasure, suddenly constricted. he blinked, the haziness clearing as his internal "problem-solving mode" kicked back in with a vengeance.

"stay?" he repeated, his voice sounding suddenly small.

"yeah. it's late, and it's cold out. just stay over. we can... i don't know, wake up and have coffee. maybe look at the project again."

jake’s eyes darted toward his hands, then to his backpack, then to the door. the relaxation in his shoulders vanished, replaced by a rigid, frantic tension. he looked like he’d just realised he was standing in the middle of a minefield.

"i—" he started, scrambling to pull his jeans up. he was moving so fast he almost tripped over his own feet. "i can't. i mean, i should... i have that grading to finish. for kim. and i—i didn't bring my toothbrush. or my meds. and my roommate, he—he'll wonder where i am. he gets worried."

"jake, it’s fine, you can borrow—"

"no!" he said, a bit too loudly. he was fumbling with his belt, his fingers shaking so badly he could barely loop it through. he wouldn't look at you. his face wasn't flushed with pleasure anymore; it was pale, his expression twisted into something that looked dangerously like panic. "no, i really should go. i’m sorry. i just... i realised the time. i have to go."

you stood up, feeling a cold, hollow pit open in your stomach. "did i do something wrong? was it... was it too much?"

"no! no, it was... it was amazing," he said, finally getting his shoes on, not even bothering to tie the laces. he grabbed his backpack, clutching it to his chest like a shield. "it was too amazing. that's the... that's the problem. i'm—i'm not good at this. i think i need to... i need to think. logically. about the implications."

"the implications?" you asked, your voice rising with a sharp, hurt edge. "it was just a night, jake. it doesn't have to be a 'logical problem' to solve."

"i know, i know. i'm sorry. i’m just... i'm a mess." he backed toward the door, his hand fumbling for the handle behind his back. "i'll text you? about the project? we still have that deadline on tuesday."

"jake—"

"goodnight! thank you for dinner. the pasta was really... the texture was perfect. okay. bye."

he practically fell out of the door, the sound of his hurried footsteps echoing down the hallway as he sprinted toward the stairs.

the click of the door closing felt final. you stood in the centre of your perfectly decorated, candle-lit apartment, surrounded by the remnants of the dinner you’d spent hours on. the half-empty wine glasses, the bag of expensive cookies, the rumpled rug.

you felt a hot, stinging prickle behind your eyes. you’d done everything right. you’d been strategic, patient, and kind. you’d gotten him to open up, to trust you, to want you. and yet, watching him run away like you were a bug in his code—something to be deleted or fixed—hurt more than any midterm failure ever could.

you sat back down on the couch, the silence of the room suddenly feeling just as oppressive as it had back in the computer lab. you picked up your phone, looking at his last text. this'll be fun :)

you threw the phone onto the cushions and buried your face in your hands, the smell of his citrus shampoo still clinging to your skin, mocking you.

jake didn't text.

you stared at your phone for the entire next day, watching the screen like you could will a message into existence. the "i'll text you" he'd thrown over his shoulder before fleeing felt increasingly like a polite lie. by saturday afternoon you broke first.

you: hey, you okay?

the message sat there. delivered, but no response.

you tried again sunday morning, going for casual.

you: still on for project work this week?

still no response.

by monday you'd moved past confusion into something that felt uncomfortably like panic. this wasn't how things worked. people didn't just. stop responding to you. they didn't ignore you or avoid you or remove you from their orbit like you were some problem to be managed. you were used to being wanted, pursued, the one who had to let people down gently. this reversed dynamic was unfamiliar and honestly humiliating.

you saw him in the dining hall on tuesday. he was with his friends, laughing at something one of them said, looking completely normal. like nothing had happened. like he hadn't been on your couch four days ago falling apart under your touch.

you started walking toward their table before you could think better of it, but jake's eyes flicked up, met yours for a fraction of a second, and then he was standing, gathering his tray, saying something to his friends. they all got up and left. just. left. walked out the side exit while you stood there holding your lunch like an idiot.

yunjin grabbed your arm. "okay, what the hell was that?"

"nothing," you said, but your voice came out wrong. 

"that was not nothing. did something happen with you and jake?"

"no. i don't know. it's complicated."

it wasn't complicated. it was actually pretty simple. you'd pushed too hard and now he wanted nothing to do with you.

wednesday he wasn't in his usual spot in lecture. you spent the entire class scanning the room, finally spotting him in the very back corner, a place he'd never sat before. he kept his eyes on his laptop the entire time, didn't look up once. when class ended he was the first one out the door.

thursday was supposed to be tutoring. seven pm, his room or yours, the standing appointment you'd had for weeks now. you waited in your apartment, laptop open to the half-finished project, telling yourself he'd show up. he was responsible and dedicated. he wouldn't just bail without saying anything.

seven came and went. then seven-thirty. by eight you accepted he wasn't coming.

you: are we still working together on the project? i need to know so i can plan accordingly.

again, no response.

friday morning you were walking to class when you saw him ahead of you on the path. for once he hadn't spotted you first. you sped up, closing the distance, and watched in real time as he seemed to sense your presence. his shoulders tensed. then he took a sharp left turn down a path that definitely wasn't toward any of his classes. he was actively avoiding you. taking different routes. altering his entire routine just to not run into you.

something hot and humiliated burned in your chest.

by next week, you'd had enough. you knew his schedule. knew he had algorithms right before lunch on mondays, in the engineering building, third floor. you positioned yourself outside the classroom before class ended, ignoring the curious looks from other students filing out. you spotted jake immediately when the doors opened. he saw you at the same moment and actually stopped walking, causing someone behind him to bump into his back.

"we need to talk," you said.

"i have—i need to get to—"

"jake." your voice came out sharper than intended. "five minutes. please."

something in his expression shifted. resignation maybe. he nodded once, following you to an empty study room down the hall. you closed the door. the small space suddenly felt suffocating.

"you've been ignoring me," you said.

"i know."

"for a week. you didn't text, you didn't show up to tutoring, you're literally avoiding me on campus."

"i know," he said again, quieter. he wasn't looking at you, his eyes fixed somewhere around your shoulder. "i'm sorry. that wasn't— i should have communicated better."

"so communicate now. what's going on?"

jake was quiet for a long moment. when he finally spoke, his voice was careful. measured. "what happened last week. that crossed a line for me."

"we both wanted it."

"did we?" he looked at you now, and there was something in his expression that made your stomach drop. "because i've been thinking about it a lot. about how we got there. and i feel like. i don't know. like maybe i missed something."

"what do you mean?"

"the tutoring," he said. "you didn't actually need it, did you? your grades were already good. and the project. you had friends you could have worked with. people you actually knew. but you picked me." he paused. "why did you pick me?"

the question hung in the air between you. you could lie. deflect. but something about the way he was looking at you, patient and a little sad, made it feel pointless.

"i liked you," you said finally. "i wanted to spend time with you."

"okay." he nodded slowly. "so the tutoring was. what. an excuse? a way to manufacture time together?"

"it wasn't like that."

"wasn't it though?" there was no anger in his voice. just. tiredness. "because from my perspective, i thought i was helping someone who needed help. i thought we were becoming friends. and then suddenly we're… doing that. and i'm trying to figure out when the shift happened and i can't. because maybe there was no shift. maybe that's what you wanted the whole time and i just didn't see it."

"i did want to be your friend," you said, defensive now. "i wasn't. it's not like i was using you."

"weren't you?"

the words hit harder than they should have. because he wasn't wrong. you had used him. used his kindness, his eagerness to help, his complete inability to see through your motivations. you'd engineered situations and manufactured proximity and told yourself it was harmless.

"i like you," jake said, and somehow that made it worse. "i really do. but i feel. god, i don't even know how to explain it. exposed? like you saw something in me that made me an easy target and you just. went for it. and i didn't even realise what was happening until it had already happened."

"that's not—"

"and the thing is," he continued, talking over you gently, "you're so far out of my league. like, objectively. you're smart and pretty and confident and you have your shit together. and i'm just. me. i'm awkward and i ramble and i spend friday nights debugging code for fun. so the fact that you were interested never made sense. i kept waiting for it to click, for me to understand why, and now i think i do. it wasn't about me. it was about. i don't know. the chase? the conquest? i was a project to you."

"no," you said, but your voice came out weak. "jake, that's not true. you weren't a project."

"then what was i?"

you didn't have an answer. or you did, but it was complicated and messy and saying it out loud would mean admitting things you didn't want to admit.

jake sighed. "i'm not trying to be cruel. i'm really not. but being around you right now makes me feel uncomfortable. like i can't trust my own judgement because i didn't see any of this coming. and that's. that's my issue to work through. but i need space to do it."

"what about the class project?"

"we can do it over email. divide up the work, combine it at the end. we don't have to see each other."

"and tutoring?"

"i think we should stop. you don't actually need it anyway."

each sentence felt like a door closing. practical, reasonable, and completely final.

"i'm sorry," you said, and meant it. "i didn't mean to. i wasn't trying to hurt you."

"i know," jake said, and he sounded sincere. "i don't think you set out to do anything malicious. i just think you didn't really consider how it would feel from my side. and now we're here."

"so that's it? we just stop talking?"

"for now, yeah. maybe later we can be normal around each other. but right now i need. distance."

he moved toward the door, his hand on the handle. you wanted to say something, anything that would fix this. some argument that would make him see you differently. but looking at his face, at the quiet certainty there, you knew there was nothing you could say. he'd made up his mind. he'd set a boundary. and you had no choice but to respect it.

"i really am sorry," you said again.

"i know," jake said. "me too."

then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him with that same horrible finality. you stood there in the empty study room, staring at the space where he'd been.

you couldn't even argue with his reasoning. everything he'd said was true. you had manufactured situations. you had used his kindness and his obliviousness to get what you wanted. you'd told yourself it was harmless, that your feelings were real even if your methods were questionable.

but intent didn't matter when the impact was someone feeling manipulated and exposed.

you left the study room feeling hollowed out. the campus looked the same. people laughed and talked and went about their days. somewhere out there jake was probably headed to lunch with his friends, relieved to have finally said what he needed to say.

and you were just. alone. with the sharp realisation that you'd ruined something before it even had a chance to be real.

the party was exactly the kind of loud, chaotic mess you needed. bass thrumming through the floors, bodies packed into every available space, the air thick with sweat and cheap alcohol and too many competing perfumes. yunjin had dragged you here, insisting you needed to "get out of your head" after moping around for two weeks straight.

so here you were. red cup in hand, smile fixed in place, laughing at jokes you weren't really hearing. performing normalcy while your brain kept circling the same thoughts on loop. jake's face in that study room. the careful way he'd said i need space. the hollow feeling that had taken up permanent residence in your chest.

"you good?" beomgyu asked, leaning close to be heard over the music.

"yeah, great," you said automatically, taking another drink.

you were on your third. or fourth. you'd stopped counting. the alcohol sat warm in your stomach but hadn't managed to quiet your thoughts yet. maybe if you drank enough you'd stop replaying every conversation with jake, analysing every moment for signs you'd missed, evidence of how thoroughly you'd fucked everything up.

"i'm gonna get another drink," you said to no one in particular, pushing through the crowd toward the kitchen.

that's when you saw him.

jake. standing near the makeshift bar someone had set up on the counter, red cup in hand, talking to a girl you didn't recognise. and he was laughing. actually laughing, head thrown back, completely at ease in a way that made something hot and ugly twist in your chest.

because he never looked like that with you. even before everything went wrong, even during those tutoring sessions in your apartment when you'd thought you were building something real, he'd always been slightly careful and polite, like he was containing himself. but now he was loose and animated, gesturing with his free hand while the girl laughed at whatever he was saying, her hand resting on his arm.

her hand was on his arm.

you watched as she leaned closer, saying something that made jake grin. that specific grin, the one where his eyes crinkled at the corners and you could see his perfect teeth on display. you'd thought that smile was special. something you'd earned. but apparently he was just like this, with everyone who wasn't you.

the jealousy hit so hard it felt physical. burning through your chest, turning your vision sharp and focused. you were moving before you'd decided to, weaving through people, your jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

jake saw you coming. his smile faltered, something uncertain crossing his face. "hey—"

"who's this?" you said, gesturing at the girl. your voice came out sharper than you'd intended, heavy with something you couldn't quite name.

the girl looked between you and jake, confused. "i'm mina. jungwon's sister remember? we just met like ten minutes ago."

"oh right." you focused on jake, ignoring her entirely. "you look like you're having fun."

"i—yeah?" jake's eyebrows drew together. "it's a party?"

"funny how you can make time for parties but couldn't respond to any of my texts about the assignment."

"i told you we could do it over email—"

"is that what you're doing right now? project work?" you knew you sounded irrational, accusatory, but you couldn't stop. the words kept spilling out, poisoned by alcohol and jealousy and two weeks of feeling like you'd been the only one affected by any of this. 

"or are you just. moving on? found someone new to—"

"okay, i'm gonna go," mina said, backing away with her hands up. "this seems like. a thing. nice meeting you, jake."

she disappeared into the crowd. jake stared at you, his expression shifting from confused to something harder. "what the hell was that?"

"you tell me. you've been ignoring me for two weeks and now you're here flirting with random girls?"

"flirting?" jake's voice pitched up slightly. "flirting? i was literally just talking to her. she asked where the bathroom was and then we started chatting about the music. that's—that's not flirting, that's called being polite."

"she had her hand on your arm."

"so?" jake looked genuinely baffled now. "people touch arms when they talk. that doesn't mean anything. and even if it did—" he stopped himself, jaw tightening. "i don't owe you an explanation. you don't get to. we're not together. we're not anything."

the words hit exactly where they were meant to. "right. because you decided we're not."

"no, because you decided we weren't, like a month ago when you started playing games instead of just being honest." his voice was rising now, frustration bleeding through. "and now you're mad because i'm talking to someone else? you don't get to do that. you don't get to manipulate me into something and then act possessive when i try to move on."

"i'm not—" you started, but stopped. because he was right. you were being possessive and irrational. reading intent into a harmless conversation because you wanted there to be something there. wanted confirmation that jake was thinking about you as much as you were thinking about him.

but he wasn't. he was just living his life. talking to people at parties. laughing easily with strangers. completely unaffected while you spiralled.

"i wasn't flirting with her," jake said, quieter now. tired. "i was just being friendly. that's what normal people do. they don't engineer entire relationships or manufacture situations. they just exist around each other."

"i know," you said, your voice coming out smaller than you wanted. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have. that was out of line."

jake nodded once, already turning away. "yeah. it was."

you watched him disappear back into the crowd, leaving you standing alone by the kitchen counter. your hands were shaking. you downed the rest of your drink in one go, the burn doing nothing to quiet the noise in your head.

you'd just proven everything he'd said about you. possessive. manipulative. unable to let go. you'd projected your own feelings onto a completely innocent interaction and made a scene because you couldn't handle seeing him okay when you were so thoroughly not okay.

you'd been so certain. so sure he was flirting, that the girl meant something, that you'd caught him in some kind of lie. but you'd been wrong. completely, embarrassingly wrong. because you didn't actually know what jake was thinking. you never had. you'd just assumed, projected, filled in the gaps with your own narrative.

and now he was probably telling his friends what a psycho you were. probably regretting he'd ever let you into his life in the first place.

you grabbed another drink.

…

the party had devolved into that late-night haze where everything blurred together. people you didn't recognise, conversations you weren't part of, music that had gotten somehow both quieter and more invasive. you'd lost track of yunjin and beomgyu somewhere around drink number six. or seven. the room tilted slightly when you moved too fast.

you were trying to find your jacket, ready to call it a night, when you spotted him. jake. sitting alone on a couch in the corner, looking absolutely exhausted. his head kept drooping forward like he was fighting to stay conscious, then jerking back up. his eyes were half-closed, his usual careful posture completely abandoned.

you should walk past him. nothing good could come from another interaction tonight. you'd already embarrassed yourself once. but your feet carried you closer anyway, some magnetic pull you couldn't quite resist even knowing it was a bad idea.

you were almost past him when his hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist. "don't," he said, not looking at you. his voice was rough, slurred slightly. "don't leave."

you stopped. "jake—"

"been trying," he mumbled, his grip loosening but not releasing. "trying so hard. but you make it impossible."

"what are you talking about?"

he finally looked up at you, and his eyes were unfocused, glassy with alcohol. "you. i'm talking about you. can't stop thinking about you. it's driving me insane."

your heart lurched. "you're drunk."

"i know but so are you," he said, like that explained everything. "that's the only reason i'm saying this. because sober me knows better. sober me has self-control and boundaries and all that shit." he pulled gently on your wrist, making you stumble slightly closer. "but drunk me is tired. so tired of pretending i don't want you."

"you said you needed space."

"i do need space. because when i'm around you i can't think straight. i can't trust myself." his words were coming out uneven, tripping over each other. "you think i was avoiding you because i was mad? i was avoiding you because if i saw you i'd—" he made a frustrated noise. "i'd do something stupid. like this. this is stupid."

you sat down next to him, his hand still wrapped around your wrist. "jake—"

"you're so pretty," he said, almost accusatory. "and you smell good. and you're smart, like actually smart, not just good at school. and when you laugh it's. it does things to me. and i hate it. i hate that you have this much power over me when i don't even know if you actually like me or if i'm just… convenient."

"i do like you," you said quietly. "i've liked you the whole time."

"but do you?" he turned to face you more fully, his eyes searching yours even though he seemed to be having trouble focusing. "or do you like the idea of me? the nerdy guy you can manipulate? your little project?"

"that's not—" you stopped. "it wasn't like that. it's not like that."

"then what is it like?" he was still holding your wrist, his thumb pressing against your pulse point. "because i've been trying to figure it out for weeks and i can't. i can't understand why you'd want me. what you get out of this. and maybe i'm just stupid but i need you to tell me. plainly. what do you want from me?"

"you," you said, the word coming out more honest than you'd intended. "just. you."

jake laughed, bitter and tired. "that doesn't make sense."

"i know."

"i'm not interesting. i'm not cool or funny or—"

"you are though," you interrupted. "you are all of those things. you just don't see it."

he went quiet for a long moment. then, so quietly you almost missed it: "i've been trying so hard not to want you back. because i knew—i know it's not good for me. but i can't stop. and i'm so tired of trying."

his hand slid from your wrist to your hand, fingers threading through yours. the touch was so much gentler than you expected, almost reverent. "i deleted your texts without reading them," he admitted. "because if i read them i'd respond. and if i responded i'd end up right back where i started. wanting you. letting you in. getting hurt."

"i don't want to hurt you."

"i know. that's what makes it worse." he leaned his head back against the couch, eyes closing. "you don't mean to. you just. do."

you didn't know what to say to that. didn't know how to fix the damage you'd done or convince him that your feelings were real when your actions had been so calculated. so you just sat there, holding his hand, feeling the warmth of him next to you.

"i missed you," jake said, so quiet you barely heard it over the music. "i fucking missed you and i hated myself for it."

"i missed you too."

"yeah?" he opened his eyes, looking at you with something raw and unguarded. "you missed manipulating me?"

"that's not fair."

"isn't it though?" but there was no heat in his words. just exhaustion. "god, i'm so tired. tired of being angry. tired of trying to stay away from you. tired of pretending i don't want you so badly it hurts."

the confession hung in the air between you. jake was looking at you like he was waiting for something, permission or rejection or maybe just confirmation that you'd heard him.

you leaned in. gave him time to pull away, to remember all the reasons this was a bad idea. but he didn't. he met you halfway, his lips crashing against yours with none of the careful hesitation from before. this was messy and desperate, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. he kissed you like he'd been holding back for too long, like all that careful control had finally snapped.

you shifted closer, practically climbing into his lap, and he made a sound against your mouth that went straight through you. his hands were everywhere, spanning your waist, sliding up your back, gripping like he was afraid you'd disappear if he loosened his hold even slightly.

"been thinking about this," he mumbled against your lips, barely pulling back enough to speak. "every night. hated myself for it but couldn't stop."

"me too," you admitted, kissing along his jaw. "i couldn't sleep. kept replaying everything."

"i lied about the texts i didn't respond to," he said, tilting his head to give you better access. "i read them. all of them before deleting. at like three am. read them over and over."

"why didn't you answer?"

"because i wanted to say things i shouldn't say. like how much i missed you. how i kept going to the lab hoping you'd be there. how seeing you at the party tonight fucking destroyed me even though i pretended i was fine." his hands tightened on your waist. "how i've been so fucking miserable without you."

you kissed him again, harder this time, swallowing his words. he responded immediately, pulling you fully into his lap now, and you could feel how much he wanted this, wanted you. it was overwhelming. intoxicating. the desperation in every touch, every small sound he made.

"we should," he said between kisses, "we should probably stop."

"do you want to stop?"

"no. god no." he pulled back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown, lips swollen. "but i'm drunk and you're drunk and tomorrow we're gonna regret—"

"i won't," you said firmly. "i won't regret this."

something shifted in his expression. softened. he touched your face with a gentleness that made your chest ache, thumb brushing across your cheekbone. "you're gonna break my heart," he said, not quite a question.

"i'm not."

"you will." but he kissed you anyway, softer this time. slower. like he was memorising the feel of you. "and i'm gonna let you. because i'm weak and pathetic and i want you so much i don't even care anymore."

"you're not weak."

"i am though." he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closing. "i'm so weak for you. it's embarrassing."

you could feel his exhaustion creeping in, the way his body was getting heavier against yours, his movements slowing. "come on," you said softly, standing and pulling him up with you. "let's get you somewhere you can actually sleep."

"don't wanna sleep," he protested, but let you guide him anyway. "wanna stay with you."

"you will. i'm not going anywhere."

you found an empty bedroom on the second floor, the door unlocked and the bed mercifully unoccupied. jake collapsed onto it immediately, pulling you down with him. he was asleep within minutes, his arms wrapped around you, face buried in your neck. his breathing evened out, deep and steady.

you should probably feel guilty. taking advantage of his drunken honesty, letting him confess things he'd normally keep locked away. but you were too tired, too overwhelmed by everything he'd said. i want you so badly it hurts. i've been so fucking miserable without you. you're gonna break my heart and i'm gonna let you.

you didn't have answers. didn't have promises you could make. didn't know how to fix the fundamental imbalance between you, the manipulation and hurt that had gotten you here.

but for now, in this quiet room with jake's warmth pressed against you, you could pretend tomorrow didn't exist. could pretend this was simple. just two people who wanted each other, tangled together in the dark, nothing more complicated than that.

you fell asleep still wearing your shoes, jake's arms tight around you, his heartbeat steady against your chest.

you woke to pale morning light filtering through unfamiliar curtains and the warm weight of jake still wrapped around you. for a disorienting moment you couldn't place where you were. then it came back in pieces. the party. the confrontation. jake's drunken confessions. falling asleep tangled together.

jake stirred against you, his breath catching as he woke. you felt the exact moment awareness returned, the way his body went tense. slowly, carefully, he pulled back just enough to look at you. his hair was a disaster, sticking up in every direction. his glasses sat crooked on the nightstand. his eyes were cautious but clear.

"hi," he said quietly.

"hi."

he didn't let go of you. didn't immediately scramble away or apologise or retreat into panic like last time. he just looked at you, searching your face for something.

"i said a lot of things last night," he finally said.

"yeah."

"i meant them." his voice was serious, steady despite the embarrassment colouring his cheeks. "i know i was drunk, and i probably shouldn't have said half of it, but. i meant it. all of it."

your heart kicked up. "jake—"

"i like you," he said, cutting you off gently. "i've liked you since that first night in the lab when you were stressed about your code and i got to actually help you with something. and it's been killing me trying to stay away from you because every time i see you i just. want you. so much that it scares me."

"why does it scare you?"

"because i don't know how to want someone this much and still protect myself." he shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow so he could see you better. "last time i didn't protect myself at all. i just. gave in. and then i panicked because it felt too big, too fast, and i didn't know how to handle it."

"and now?"

"now i'm still terrified," he admitted. "but i'm more scared of not trying. of walking away and spending the rest of college wondering what could have happened if i'd just. been brave enough to give you a real chance."

you felt something tight in your chest start to loosen. "i want that. a real chance. i want to do this right."

"yeah?"

"yeah." you reached up, brushing his messy hair back from his forehead. "i'm sorry. for all of it. the manipulation, the games, not being honest about what i wanted. you deserved better than that."

"i know," jake said simply. then, softer: "but i also know you were scared too. just in a different way."

he leaned down, kissing you with a gentleness that made your chest ache. different from last night's desperate intensity. this was slow, careful, almost questioning. you kissed him back, trying to pour everything you couldn't quite say into it. apology and promise and want all tangled together.

when he pulled back his eyes were dark, pupils blown. "i want to try again," he said. "properly this time. but i need you to be honest with me. about what you want. about what this is."

"i want you," you said. "not as a project or a conquest or whatever i convinced myself it was before. just you jake."

something in his expression softened. "okay," he said. "okay. we can work with that."

he kissed you again, deeper this time, and you felt his weight settle more fully over you. "i want to make it up to you," he murmured against your lips. "for running away before. for making you feel like you did something wrong when i was just scared."

"you don't have to—"

"i want to." he was already kissing down your neck, hands sliding under your shirt. "let me. please."

there was something in his voice, almost pleading, that made you nod. he smiled against your skin, helping you out of your clothes with more confidence than he'd had before. when you were bare beneath him he just. looked. taking his time, hands mapping your body like he was memorising every detail.

"you're so pretty," he said, almost reverent. "i thought about this. about you. so many times."

then he was moving lower, pressing kisses down your stomach, your hip bones, the inside of your thighs. when his breath ghosted over where you needed him most you couldn't help the small sound that escaped.

"tell me if anything's too much," he said, glancing up at you. then he lowered his mouth to you and your brain short-circuited.

he started slowly, almost tentatively, like he was learning you. his tongue moved in careful strokes, testing what made you gasp, what made your hips shift toward him. when he found the rhythm that had your fingers tightening in his hair, he made a low, satisfied sound against you that you felt everywhere.

"jake," you breathed, and he looked up at you through his lashes, pupils blown wide, lips glistening with your arousal.

"tell me," he said, voice rough. "tell me what feels good."

"that—" your words cut off as he did it again, tongue flicking over your clit with that same perfect pressure. "right there. just like that."

he was a quick learner. always had been. he catalogued every reaction, every sound you made, adjusting and refining. except this wasn't detached or analytical. this was hungry. desperate. he sucked your clit into his mouth and you moaned, loud and unrestrained, your thighs trembling on either side of his head.

"fuck, jake—"

"god, you taste so good," he mumbled against your pussy, barely pulling back enough to speak. his chin was wet, his glasses fogged slightly. "been thinking about this. wanted to do this right last time."

he was getting lost in it now, the careful control slipping into something messier, greedier. he alternated between focused attention on your clit and broad, indulgent strokes through your folds, like he couldn't decide between making you fall apart and simply savouring you. his tongue pushed inside you and you keened, your back arching off the bed.

"oh my god," you gasped. "jake, your mouth—"

he moaned against you, the vibration making your thighs clench around his head. he didn't seem to mind, just gripped your hips harder, pulled you closer, like he wanted to suffocate in your pussy. when his fingers joined his mouth, sliding through your wetness before pressing inside, you nearly sobbed.

"so wet," he murmured, almost to himself.

he crooked his fingers, finding that spot inside you that made you cry out, and worked it mercilessly while his tongue circled your clit. the dual sensation was overwhelming, pleasure building so fast you couldn't catch your breath. your fingers tightened in his hair, probably painful, but he just groaned and doubled his efforts.

"jake, i'm—fuck, i'm gonna—"

"i know," he said against you, his voice wrecked. "i can feel it. let go for me."

his fingers thrust deeper, faster, his mouth sucking hard on your clit, and you shattered. your orgasm hit like a shockwave, your whole body going taut as pleasure whited out your vision. you were dimly aware of the sounds you were making—high, desperate whimpers and moans—but you couldn't stop them.

jake moaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core, and he didn't let up. he worked you through it with devastating patience, his tongue lapping up everything you gave him like he was starving for it.

"jake," you gasped, trying to push at his head. "too much—"

but he just whined—actually whined—and gripped your thighs tighter, keeping them spread. "please," he mumbled against your pussy, his words muffled and desperate. "please, just one more. need to feel you come again. please."

"i can't—" but your protest died as he sealed his lips around your clit again, sucking gently, his fingers still working inside you. the overstimulation was almost painful but it was already shifting into something else, something that had you gasping and arching into his mouth instead of away from it.

he was making sounds now—desperate, needy whimpers and moans that vibrated against you. he was rutting against the mattress, you realised dimly, seeking friction while he lost himself in eating you out. his hair was a mess from your fingers, and he looked absolutely wrecked.

"so good," he whined between licks. "taste so good. could do this forever. please let me—need to make you come again—"

he was babbling now, drunk on you, his movements getting messier and more desperate. his tongue worked your clit in frantic circles while his fingers curled inside you, and the pleasure was building again impossibly fast. you were so sensitive that every touch felt electric, overwhelming.

"that's it," he gasped, feeling you start to tighten around his fingers. "yeah, give it to me. please, please—"

your second orgasm hit even harder than the first, ripping through you with an intensity that had you crying out his name, your thighs clamping around his head. jake moaned like he was the one coming, his hips jerking against the mattress as he worked you through it, tongue lapping up everything, fingers gentling but not stopping until you were actually sobbing from oversensitivity.

only then did he pull back, and when he finally lifted his head he looked completely gone. his face was flushed and wet, his eyes glazed and unfocused, his lips swollen and red. he looked drunk on you, his eyes unfocused and dark.

"fuck," he breathed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "you're so hot when you come. the sounds you make—"

you pulled him up into a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue, feeling the way he groaned into your mouth. his cock was rock hard against your thigh, leaking and desperate.

"your turn," you said, reaching down to wrap your hand around him.

he hissed at the contact, his hips jerking forward. "you don't have to—"

"i want to." you stroked him slowly, base to tip, feeling how hot and heavy he was in your palm. precum leaked from the slit and you used it to ease the glide. "you're so hard, jake. does eating my pussy turn you on that much?"

"fuck—" his voice broke. "yes. god, yes. you have no idea."

"tell me." you tightened your grip slightly and he whimpered. actually whimpered. "tell me what you were thinking about."

"i was thinking—" he gasped when your thumb swept over the sensitive head. "thinking about how good you taste. how you were shaking. how i could feel you clenching and i wanted—wanted to be inside you—"

"yeah?" you stroked him faster, loving the way his abs tensed, the way his thighs trembled. "you want to fuck me, jake?"

"so bad," he choked out.

you guided him between your legs, not quite inside yet, just letting the head of his cock slide through your wetness. he made a strangled sound, his whole body shuddering.

"we should—do you have—" he was trying to think through the haze of arousal, being responsible even now. "condom?"

"pill," you said. "i'm on the pill. and i'm clean. tested recently."

"me too. clean, i mean." his cock twitched against you, smearing precum through your folds. "can i—fuck, can i feel you bare?"

"yes," you breathed. "want to feel all of you."

he positioned himself at your entrance, the thick head pressing against you, and even that felt like too much. he pushed in slowly, so slowly, and the stretch was intense. you were wet enough that he slid in smoothly at first, but the sheer size of him was overwhelming.

"oh fuck," you gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders. "jake, you're so—you're so big—"

"i know, i'm sorry—" he froze, only halfway in. "am i hurting you?"

"no, don't stop," you urged, your legs wrapping around his hips to pull him deeper. "just—go slow. need to adjust."

he sank in another inch and you both moaned. he was splitting you open, stretching you so full you could barely breathe. when he finally bottomed out, buried completely inside you, he dropped his forehead to yours.

"oh my god," he choked out. "you're so tight. so fucking tight and wet and—i can't—"

"don't move yet," you managed, clenching around him involuntarily. he was so deep you could feel him everywhere, pressing against spots that made your toes curl. "just let me—fuck—"

"you feel incredible," he said, his voice shaking. "i've never—nothing compares to this."

you tightened around him experimentally and he swore, his hips jerking forward. "sorry, sorry," he gasped. "i'm trying to hold still but when you do that i want to—"

"want to what?" you rolled your hips slightly and he groaned, deep and guttural.

"want to move," he admitted, his control clearly fraying. "want to fuck you."

"then do it," you said.

something in him snapped. he pulled almost all the way out and thrust back in hard, the force of it punching a cry from your lips. he did it again, and again, finding a rhythm that was deep and relentless. the bed creaked beneath you, the headboard hitting the wall with each thrust.

"yes," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. "just like that—don't stop—"

"god," he panted, his voice wrecked. "you feel so good."

you looked down between your bodies and moaned at the sight—his thick cock disappearing into you, glistening with your wetness, stretching you obscenely. "jake, oh my god—"

"feel how deep i am?" he thrust particularly hard and you keened.

"yes—fuck yes—"

he wasn't being careful anymore, wasn't being gentle. he fucked into you with abandon, each thrust hitting that spot inside you that made sparks shoot up your spine. the sounds were obscene—skin slapping against skin, the wet slide of his cock, his grunts mixing with your moans.

"wanted this," he said against your neck, his breath hot. "wanted you. for so long."

"tell me more," you demanded, loving this unfiltered version of him.

"thought about this constantly," he admitted, his thrusts getting harder. "thought about having you like this. making you feel good. hearing you say my name."

"jake—" you were getting close again, that familiar tension building low in your belly.

"touch yourself," he said. "want to feel you come on my cock. need it. please."

you slid your hand between your bodies, finding your clit, already swollen and sensitive. the added stimulation made you clench around him and he swore, his rhythm faltering.

"that's it," he encouraged, his eyes fixed on where your fingers worked. "fuck, that's so hot. you're so hot. make yourself cum. let me feel it."

you worked your clit in tight circles, the pressure building faster with each thrust of his cock. he was so deep, hitting all the right spots, the slide of him inside you absolutely perfect. you were making sounds you'd never made before—high, desperate whines and gasps.

"close," you managed. "so close—"

"come for me," he urged, his voice strained. "squeeze my cock. want to feel your pussy milk me. come on, baby, let me feel it—"

the orgasm hit you like lightning, sudden and intense. you cried out his name, your whole body convulsing, your pussy clamping down on him rhythmically. waves of pleasure crashed over you, so intense you forgot how to breathe.

"oh fuck," jake choked out, his hips stuttering. "you're—i can feel you—i'm gonna—"

he tried to last, you could see it in the tension of his jaw, the way his arms were shaking. but your pussy was still fluttering around him, still clenching in aftershocks, and it was too much. he buried himself deep with a broken moan, his cock pulsing inside you as he came. you felt the warmth of it, felt him fill you up, and the intimacy of it made something in your chest crack open.

"fuck," he gasped, collapsing on top of you. "oh my god. that was—i've never—"

you wrapped your arms around him, both of you breathing hard, hearts racing in sync. he was still inside you, softening slowly, and you could feel his release leaking out around his cock.

"that was amazing," you said when you could finally speak. "you were amazing."

he lifted his head to look at you, his expression soft and vulnerable. "i think i might be falling for you," he said quietly. "is that okay? am i allowed to say that?"

your throat felt tight with emotion. "yeah. that's okay."

"good." he kissed you gently, sweetly. "because i don't think i could stop even if you told me to."

he pulled out carefully and you both hissed at the sensitivity. immediately he was gathering you into his arms, pulling you against his chest like he couldn't stand not touching you. you fit there perfectly, your head tucked under his chin.

"we should probably talk about this," you said after a while. "about us."

"we will," jake promised, his fingers tracing patterns on your spine. "but can we just stay like this for a bit first?"

"yeah." you pressed closer, breathing in the scent of him. "we can stay like this."

and you did. stayed tangled together as the morning light grew stronger, as the sounds of people leaving the party filtered up through the floor. his cum was still leaking out of you, making a mess on your thighs, but neither of you moved to clean up. you just held each other in this new, tentative peace.

jake changed almost overnight once you started dating. it was like giving him permission to want you openly had flipped some switch in his brain. suddenly he was everywhere.

he'd show up at your door before your 9 am lecture with coffee, your exact order memorised, his hair still messy from sleep because he'd woken up early just to see you. he'd kiss you goodbye and then text you five minutes later with some random thought he forgot to mention. did you know that octopuses have three hearts? just learnt that. thought you should know.

in class he'd sit next to you instead of in his usual back corner spot, his knee always pressed against yours under the desk. sometimes his hand would find its way to your thigh, just resting there, his thumb tracing absent patterns while he tried to focus on the lecture. you'd catch him staring at you instead of his laptop, and when you'd raise an eyebrow he'd just smile, unashamed.

"you're distracting," he'd whisper.

"i'm literally just sitting here."

"i know. it's very distracting."

study sessions became impossible. you'd be explaining a concept and he'd lean over to kiss your shoulder, your neck, the corner of your mouth. "jake, i'm trying to help you."

"i know, keep going," he'd say, already doing it again.

"you're not even listening."

"i am. you were talking about. um." he'd grin sheepishly. "okay i wasn't listening. but you're just so pretty when you're focused."

your friends noticed immediately. yunjin had taken one look at jake's arm slung around your shoulders at lunch, the way he was playing with your hair while talking to beomgyu, and pulled you aside.

"okay so he's like. obsessed with you," she said. "it's actually kind of cute. in a golden retriever kind of way."

"he's not obsessed."

"babe, he just offered to carry your bag even though your apartment is literally three minutes away. and he's been smiling at you for the past ten minutes like you hung the moon. it's obsessed behaviour."

but she said it fondly, and later you caught her telling beomgyu that she'd never seen you this relaxed before. "she's not performing," yunjin had said. "she's just. being."

and she was right. with jake you didn't have to strategise or calculate or perform anything. he wanted you. obviously, openly, without games or subtext. when you showed up to his place in sweats and no makeup, he'd light up like you'd dressed up specifically for him. when you stole his hoodies, he'd just buy more so you could steal those too.

"i like seeing you in my clothes," he'd admitted once, pulling you close. "makes me feel like. i don't know. like you're mine."

"possessive," you'd teased.

"is that bad?"

"no," you'd said, kissing him. "i like it."

jake's friends had their own reactions. you'd been nervous meeting them properly, remembering that disastrous first encounter at the party. but they'd welcomed you easily, even if they did give jake endless shit.

"dude, you're so whipped," his roommate said, watching jake immediately get up to refill your drink without being asked.

"and?" jake had said, completely unbothered.

"and nothing, it's just funny. remember when you said you'd never be that guy who drops everything for someone? and now you're literally—"

"finish that sentence and i'm not helping you with discrete math anymore."

but he was smiling when he said it, and later his roommate told you that jake talked about you constantly. "it's honestly annoying how happy he is."

the thing was, you were happy too. unexpectedly, overwhelmingly happy. jake made you sharper somehow, more focused. when you studied together you actually retained information because he made learning feel collaborative instead of competitive. he celebrated your successes like they were his own, staying up with you before big presentations, bringing you stress-relief snacks, sending you encouraging texts.

and you did the same for him. learnt his patterns, his tells when he was overwhelmed. you'd show up at the lab with dinner when you knew he'd been working for hours. you'd run your fingers through his hair when he was stressed, and he'd melt into your touch, all that tension draining away.

"you make everything easier," he'd told you once, late at night when you were both too tired to filter. "like the world's less heavy when you're around."

"that's the cheesiest thing you've ever said."

"i know. i mean it though."

weeks blurred together in the best way. stolen kisses between classes. jake's hand always finding yours. the way he'd kiss you goodbye at your door and then text you goodnight five minutes later even though he lived one floor up. movie nights that turned into makeout sessions on your couch, jake's glasses getting in the way until you carefully removed them, setting them aside so you could kiss him properly.

he got clingy when he was tired, wrapping around you like a koala, mumbling into your neck. "don't leave."

"i'm just going to get water."

"too far. stay."

"jake, i'll be gone thirty seconds."

"thirty seconds too long."

you'd laugh, running your fingers through his hair until he fell asleep, and feel something warm and settled in your chest. this was what it was supposed to feel like.

the beach had been jake's idea. "there's supposed to be a meteor shower tonight," he'd said, eyes lighting up behind his glasses. "and i know this spot that's perfect for stargazing. barely any light pollution. we could bring blankets, make a whole thing of it?"

so here you were, sitting on a blanket in the sand while the ocean crashed softly in the background. the sky was impossibly clear, stars scattered across it like someone had spilt diamonds. jake lay with his head in your lap, one of your hands playing with his hair while he pointed up at the sky.

"okay, so see those seven stars there?" he traced a pattern with his finger. "that's the big dipper, which is part of ursa major. but if you follow those two stars at the edge, they point directly to polaris. the north star."

you hummed, only half listening to the actual words. you were too busy watching him. the way his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, how animated his expressions were when he talked about something he loved. the moonlight caught on his features, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the soft curve of his lips.

"and that one—" he was still going, completely absorbed. "that's cassiopeia. she was a queen in greek mythology who bragged about being more beautiful than the sea nymphs, so poseidon punished her by placing her in the sky upside down. you can see how the constellation kind of looks like a W? that's her throne."

"jake," you said softly.

"oh, and if you look over there, that really bright one? that's actually venus, not a star. common misconception. planets don't twinkle like stars do because—"

you leaned down and kissed him, cutting off his rambling mid-sentence. he made a surprised sound but responded immediately, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck. when you pulled back he followed your lips automatically, trying to chase another kiss.

"you were saying?" you teased.

"i—" he blinked up at you, slightly dazed. "what was i saying?"

"something about venus."

"right. venus. because of the. um." he lost his train of thought as you leaned down again, kissing him slower this time. "you're distracting me from the meteor shower."

"am i?"

"yeah. very effectively." but he was smiling, pulling you down for another kiss.

you shifted, moving to straddle his lap properly. jake's hands immediately found your waist, sliding under your shirt to rest against bare skin. 

the kissing turned heated quickly. jake made these small, needy sounds that drove you crazy, his hands roaming over your back, your sides, anywhere he could reach. when you rolled your hips experimentally he gasped into your mouth, his grip tightening.

"fuck," he whispered. "you're gonna kill me."

you kissed down his jaw, his neck, feeling his pulse racing under your lips. his hands had moved to your hips now, guiding your movements, and you could feel how affected he was. "still thinking about the stars?" you teased.

"what stars?" he pulled you down for another bruising kiss, one hand tangling in your hair. "can't think about anything except you."

you ground down harder and jake made a sound that was almost a whine, his head falling back against the blanket. "please," he gasped. "please, i need—"

suddenly, the loud, insistent beeping of his watch interrupted the moment.

you both froze.

jake's face went bright red as he fumbled with his wrist. "oh my god. oh my god. it's my fitness watch. it thinks i'm exercising because my heart rate—" another beep. "make it stop."

you couldn't help it. you burst out laughing, burying your face in his shoulder while his watch continued its concerned beeping about his elevated heart rate. "it's not funny," jake groaned, still trying to silence the watch. "this is so embarrassing."

"it's a little funny."

"my watch just cockblocked me. there's nothing funny about that."

you kissed his jaw, still giggling. "i think it's cute. your heart rate got that high just from kissing me?"

"you were not just kissing me, you were—" he made a frustrated noise. "yes. okay. yes. you have that effect on me. are you happy?"

"very." you settled against his chest, feeling his heartbeat still racing under your ear. the watch had finally stopped beeping. "for what it's worth, my heart's doing the same thing."

"yeah?" he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

"yeah."

you lay there together, the ocean providing a steady soundtrack, the stars scattered above you. jake pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "i love you," he said softly. "in case that wasn't obvious from the way my watch literally staged an intervention."

you lifted your head to look at him. his eyes were soft, open, vulnerable in the moonlight. "i love you too," you said, meaning it completely.

he smiled, that full, genuine smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. then he kissed you again, sweet and unhurried, his hands gentle on your face.

"we should probably head back soon," you murmured eventually. "it's getting late."

"five more minutes," jake said, pulling you closer. "just. let me hold you for five more minutes."

you settled back against him, his arms wrapped securely around you, both of you looking up at the vast sky. you'd come here to watch a meteor shower but you'd been too distracted by each other to notice if any had passed.

somehow, you didn't mind at all.

"hey," jake said softly. "thank you."

"for what?"

"for giving me another chance. for being patient with me while i figured my shit out. for. this. all of it." his arms tightened around you. "i know i was difficult at first."

"you weren't difficult. you were protecting yourself. i get it now."

"still. you could have given up on me. but you didn't."

"of course i didn't," you said, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "you're worth it. you've always been worth it."

jake made a soft, overwhelmed sound, burying his face in your hair. "i'm gonna marry you someday," he mumbled. "just so you know."

"jake—"

"not now. obviously not now. but someday. when we've graduated and figured our lives out and i can actually afford a ring. i'm gonna marry you."

you felt your chest go tight with emotion. "okay," you whispered. "someday."

"yeah. someday."

you stayed like that until the cold started seeping in, until you were both shivering despite being pressed together. finally, reluctantly, you packed up the blanket and headed back to campus. jake held your hand the entire walk, occasionally pulling you close to kiss you at random intervals.

"what was that for?" you asked after the third surprise kiss.

"just because," he said, smiling. "because i can. because i love you. do i need more reasons?"

"no," you said, kissing him back. "no more reasons needed."

if you liked this please comment or reblog to give me your feedback! <3

The first time you noticed Jake, you didn't know what it was. Something in his posture, maybe, or the way his fingers twitched nervously at the edges of his notebooks. How he would chew those fluffy lips of his, until they were raw and sometimes bled from nerves. Always so tender.

He always sat at the front of class, completely immersed in whatever theory the professor was droning on about, occasionally pushing his glasses up his nose. His wavy hair often fell into his eyes, and when he reached up to push it back, you couldn’t help but notice the subtle muscles in his arms, the way the fabric of his t-shirt stretched over his frame.

Jake was... different. In a way that drew you in, made you want to know more. You liked how his voice became a little more animated when he spoke about the things he liked. How he’d go on these long, excited tangents about string theory or the multiverse, only to shrink back when he realized no one was really paying attention to him. His eyes, dark but full of attention, would flick to the floor, and you could see his whole body tense up, as if he were apologizing for existing.

That nervousness, that deep self-doubt that clung to him like a second skin—it made him endearing, even though you knew it wasn’t healthy. Jake was smart. He was brilliant, in fact. But he couldn’t seem to accept that. And you wanted to be the one to tell him, to show him that he didn’t have to hide behind his insecurity.

It was the first week of November when you finally spoke to him.

“Hey, Jake?” Your voice broke the silence of the lab as you shuffled your papers.

Jake glanced up at you, his cheeks turning pink almost immediately. He was quick to adjust his glasses, and his gaze darted to the window, then back down to his notes. “Uh, hey,” he stammered, never meeting your eyes. “What’s up?”

You smiled, trying to make him feel comfortable. “I was thinking of going over the assignment tonight. You, uh, wanna work together? We could meet at my place?”

His eyes widened. “Oh. You want to work with me?” He sounded so surprised, so unsure, as though the idea hadn’t even crossed his mind that someone would want to spend time with him outside of class.

You nodded. “Yeah, sure. I know the material pretty well, but I could use someone to bounce ideas off of. And you’re, like, a genius with this stuff, so…”

Jake swallowed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m not... a genius. I mean, I’m probably not even close. But, uh... yeah. Sure. Your place sounds fine.”

You barely heard the last part, as Jake muttered it to himself, his gaze flicking downward. You weren’t sure if it was nerves or something else that kept him from looking directly at you, but it felt like a wall was between you two.

That night, Jake arrived at your apartment at precisely 7:00 PM, as though punctuality could help him keep his anxiety at bay. You opened the door to find him standing there, clutching a bag of books with both hands like it was his lifeline. He was dressed in his usual oversized hoodie, and his hair was messily falling over his black frames.

“Hey, come in,” you said, stepping aside to let him in. His presence was a little overwhelming, and yet he seemed to shrink into himself the moment he crossed the threshold. His eyes darted around, clearly taking in everything, his shoulders tense, his hands clutching the strap of his bag even tighter.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No problem,” you said, your heart hammering in your chest for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. “Can I get you something to drink? Water, tea?”

Jake shook his head quickly. “No, I’m good.” His voice faltered, and he rubbed the back of his neck in an anxious gesture. “Sorry, I’ve just… never been to a girl’s place before.”

The words hung in the air, and you blinked, not sure how to respond. He’d never been to a girl’s place? Was that a comment about his general social awkwardness, or was it something more personal? He wasn’t making eye contact, and his words were tumbling out like he couldn’t control them.

“You… haven’t?” You weren’t sure if you were more surprised or confused. You’d heard him mention before that he didn’t have many friends, but this felt different, like there was a depth to his isolation that made you want to reach out and pull him closer, to ask him to let you in.

“No,” Jake muttered, running a hand through his hair, making it even messier. “I mean, I’m not really good at... anything, I guess.” He let out a short laugh, but it was hollow, sad.

You didn’t know what to say, so you simply nodded, leading him to the kitchen table where you’d already spread out your textbooks and notes. As you set up the papers, you couldn’t help but feel the tension in the room, thick and palpable.

Jake stood by the table, hovering like he wasn’t sure where he was supposed to sit, or if he even belonged there. The air felt suffocating, and you could almost hear his heartbeat pounding in his chest.

“I…uh, I can sit over here,” he said, finally picking a chair farthest from you. It was as if the distance was a physical barrier between you, as though he could somehow keep his insecurities at bay if he stayed far enough away.

You didn’t argue, though the space between you seemed to stretch endlessly. For a while, you both worked in silence, the only sound the scribbling of pens and the occasional rustling of papers. Every time you glanced at Jake, he had his head down, scribbling furiously, eyes flicking nervously from his notes to the pages in front of him, but never meeting your gaze.

It was unbearable. The silence. The tension.

“Jake,” you said quietly, breaking the stillness.

He flinched, his pen almost slipping from his hand. “H-huh?”

“You’re—” You hesitated, unsure how to phrase it without making it worse. “You’re doing fine, okay? You don’t have to avoid me. I mean, you’re brilliant, and I really want to hear your ideas.”

Jake’s face flushed even deeper, if that was possible. “I—I don’t think I’m... brilliant,” he whispered, almost as if to himself. “I mean, girls don’t think about me like that. No girl wants to hang with... a nerd. A—”

“Stop,” you said gently but firmly. “Jake, you are a genius. You’re just... you’re so caught up in thinking you’re not good enough that you don’t even see it. You’re amazing.”

Jake’s eyes darted down to the table, his hands gripping the edge of the chair like he was holding on to something for dear life. This pretty veins that trailed around his thick fingers…. His breath hitched, and for a long moment, the room was silent except for the sound of his ragged inhalations.

“I… I don’t know how to believe that,” he whispered, barely audible. “I don’t know how to accept compliments or… attention. I’m just not used to it.”

The confession hit you harder than you expected, like an unexpected punch to the gut. You saw the raw vulnerability in him, and for a moment, you wished you could reach across the table and pull him into a hug.

Instead, you moved a little closer, your voice softer now. “Jake… I- I’m sorry no one’s given you the attention you deserve...”

Jake’s eyes flicked up to meet yours for the first time since he’d walked in the door. His gaze was wide, almost desperate, like he was searching for something in you….a reassurance, a promise. He resumed chewing those tender lips which were already pink and busted.

“I don’t know how to be anything other than… this,” he said quietly, his voice breaking. “I don’t know how to be someone you would… actually like.”

The words lingered between you, and for a moment, the room felt impossibly small. Your heart ached for him. You leaned forward, closer, not sure if he would even let you in.

“Jake,” you said softly, “you don’t have to be perfect for me to like you. You think I invite just any guy over to study?”

And for the first time, Jake met your gaze, really met it, with an expression that was a mixture of hope and something else—something deeper, rawer. You could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the quiet desperation for connection, for understanding.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Except nothing happened…for the rest of the night that unbearable tension lingered. Eventually you got him to open up enough to accept a snack. Just reheated lasagna and some juice. Nothing special. But NOTHING happened.

At one point you thought you might even kiss. The night was over and he lingered by the door picking at his nails as he mumbled a quiet goodbye. But you didn’t get a kiss. Or a hug. Or even a last glance in the eyes.

Jake's POV

I don’t think she likes me.

That’s what I kept telling myself, over and over, like a mantra that was supposed to make it hurt less. Because it made no sense that someone like her would ever want to be around someone like me. She’s beautiful — in that quiet, disarming way that sneaks up on you. Not loud, not flashy. Just… radiant. The kind of beauty that makes you forget where you are for a second.

After that night at her apartment, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Every little thing replayed in my head — the sound of her voice, the way her laugh cracked through the tension when I said something awkward, even how her hair fell into her face when she leaned over her notes. I’d catch myself zoning out in class, wondering if she’d thought about me too, before immediately shutting that thought down.

She probably hadn’t.

I’d wanted to text her so many times. I even opened the message app and typed something out. Thanks for letting me come over. Had a good time. Maybe we could study again sometime?

Then I stared at it. My thumb hovered over “send” for almost ten minutes before I panicked and erased the whole thing. It sounded stupid. Too eager. Too needy.

You’re really easy to talk to. Deleted that too.

Too personal.

Then I tried something safer — Hey, do you understand question five? But that just made me sound like I didn’t care about anything but the assignment. Besides, I was the one tutoring HER.

I must’ve written and deleted at least twenty versions of that text. Each time I convinced myself it was the wrong one, that if I sent it, she’d see right through me. She’d know that I liked her. That I was desperate for her to say something back. That I was the kind of guy who overthinks a simple message until it becomes a thesis on self-loathing.

So, I said nothing.

For days, I just kept to myself. Sat in the same seat at the front of class, pretending to take notes while my mind spiraled. Every time she walked past, I felt my chest tighten. She’d smile, just a little, and it was enough to completely short-circuit my brain.

And then one afternoon, she came up to me after lecture. “Hey, Jake,” she said, all casual, like my heart wasn’t already racing.

I swear my throat closed up.

She asked if I wanted to hang out again, go over some new material. I mumbled something that probably didn’t make sense. “Yeah, sure, if you want”, like I was the one doing her a favor. But inside, I was burning. I wanted to say: Yes, please. I’d cancel everything just to be near you.

We met a few days later, back at the lab. It wasn’t anything special. Same dull fluorescent lights, same scattered papers. But it felt different because she was there.

I remember sitting across from her, trying not to stare too long. She had this way of listening that made me feel like I wasn’t completely invisible. Somehow, the conversation shifted to physics, she asked me something small about the Big Bang, and I just… started talking.

It’s embarrassing, really. I went off for at least twenty minutes. I talked about singularities, about how the universe expanded faster than the speed of light, about cosmic background radiation, entropy — everything. I couldn’t stop. It was like something broke open inside me, and all the things I’d kept buried just spilled out.

Usually, people cut me off when I talk like that. Or their eyes glaze over. But she didn’t. She just looked at me, nodding, smiling a little, asking these gentle questions that made me want to keep going. I can’t believe she let me talk about that. About something so boring, so dense, so… me. And the worst part is how pathetically desperate I was for someone to listen to me like her.

When I finally stopped, the silence hit me hard. I felt stupid, like I’d just ruined it. But she smiled and said, “You explain things really well. It actually makes sense when you say it.”

That sentence... it stuck. I kept replaying it in my head for days after.

Walking home that night, the air was cold, sharp, grounding. I kept thinking about how she’d looked at me. Not like I was weird, not like I was too much. Just like I was someone worth hearing. I didn’t know what to do with that. I’d never felt seen before, not like that.

I think that’s when I realized it — this feeling I’d been trying not to name.

I like her. I really, really like her.

And I don’t know what to do about it.

Because I don’t think she likes me.

But every time I think about her smile, I can’t help but hope I’m wrong.

AN- what do we think about the purple and jake's POV? I have a few idea for more parts...Lemme know if anyone wants to be tagged or what we think of this! :)

Things had actually been going well. That’s what made what came next so confusing.

The last time we’d hung out before that night, Jake had been almost relaxed, or as relaxed as Jake ever got. He’d talked to me about physics and theories again, all soft-spoken enthusiasm, hands moving in quick, nervous gestures that he didn’t seem to notice. It felt… easy, finally. Like he was starting to trust me. I’d even caught him laughing once, this quiet, awkward little laugh that sounded like it surprised him as much as it did me.

So when I texted him later that week and asked if he wanted to take a walk after class — “it’s nice out, clear sky, maybe see the stars for real this time” — I didn’t expect him to say yes. But he did.

He showed up at the park a little after six. The sun was already starting to sink, spilling the last streaks of gold over the trees. He looked out of place there, standing by the path with his backpack slung over one shoulder like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be waiting for me or just passing through. His hoodie was too big, his hair falling over his glasses again, and yet somehow he fit into the fading light like he belonged to it.

“Hey,” I said, smiling as I walked up.

“Hey y/n..” His voice was soft, and he looked down when he said it. He always did.

For a while, we just walked. The park was quiet, except for the sound of gravel crunching under our shoes and the occasional chirp of crickets warming up for the night. Every time our arms brushed, he’d stiffen slightly, like the smallest touch might break something fragile inside him.

“I like it here,” I said finally. “It’s calm. Simple.”

He nodded, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “It’s… nice. People don’t look at you here.”

I turned to him. “Do you hate when people look at you?”

He hesitated. “Only when I start thinking about what they see.”

That silence after was heavy. I wanted to reach for his hand, but he was already retreating inside himself again. You could feel it — like the air between us shifted, stretched.

We ended up sitting on a bench near the pond, the water reflecting the last shreds of orange sky. Jake fidgeted the whole time — tugging at his sleeves, tapping his fingers against his knees, glancing at me and then quickly looking away.

“Do I make you nervous?” I asked quietly.

He froze, mid-tap. “…A little.”

I smiled. “Why?”

He shook his head, eyes fixed on the water. “You’re… beautiful,” he said, barely audible. “And you don’t… You don’t treat me like I’m weird.”

The words hit something deep inside me. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t. I just watched him — the way his jaw tightened, the faint tremor in his fingers, the way the evening light caught the edge of his glasses.

“I don’t think I’m good at this,” he said after a while. “Any of this. Being around people. Saying things that make sense. You probably think I’m—”

“Jake,” I said softly, cutting him off.

He looked up. And for a moment, it felt like the whole world stilled.

His eyes were wide, uncertain, and so full of something raw it almost hurt to look at him. The wind picked up, rustling the trees. Somewhere in the distance, someone laughed — a sound that belonged to another world entirely.

“I don’t think you’re weird,” I whispered. “I think you’re kind. And smart. And…” I hesitated, afraid of saying too much. “You make things feel… different.”

He stared at me like he didn’t know what to do with that. Then he swallowed hard, his throat moving as if the words he wanted to say got stuck somewhere between his heart and his mouth.

And before I could second-guess it, I reached out.

His hand was cold, trembling, but he didn’t pull away. He just looked at me, like he was waiting for permission to exist. The air between us grew thick, almost electric. Every heartbeat felt too loud.

When he leaned in, it wasn’t smooth or practiced. It was hesitant — slow, clumsy, almost unsure. His nose brushed mine, his breath caught, and then his lips met mine.

It wasn’t perfect. It was a little messy — his glasses bumped against my face, his lips were dry and trembling — but it felt real. It felt like every nervous heartbeat, every unspoken thought, every wall he’d built was breaking all at once.

He pulled back for a second, eyes darting between mine, breath unsteady. His hand came up, uncertain, and rested against my cheek like he was checking if I was real.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

I nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

So he kissed me again. Deeper this time, but still careful — like he was terrified of ruining it. His hand slipped from my cheek to my neck, his thumb tracing tiny, trembling circles on my skin. The world around us blurred — the faint hum of the city, the cool air, the fading light.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. His face was flushed, his lips pink, and his eyes — god, his eyes — they looked alive.

He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

“Jake,” I murmured, brushing his hair from his face. “It’s okay.”

He nodded, but something in his expression changed — like the reality of what just happened was starting to sink in, and the panic was clawing its way back up.

“I should probably—” He stood abruptly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s getting late.”

“Jake—”

“I’ll text you,” he said quickly, not meeting my eyes. His voice cracked on the last word.

And before I could stop him, he was already walking away.

I sat there on the bench for a long time after he left, the taste of him still faint on my lips, the night finally swallowing the last traces of sunlight.

He never texted.

And somehow, that silence hurt worse than anything he could’ve said.

AN- do we like 1st or 2nd person POV more??