Jimin was tucked into the back corner of the lab, hunched over his notebook, sleeves swallowing his hands. His glasses kept sliding down his nose, and he scribbled frantically, as if the world could see every mistake he made. You sauntered over, leaning on his desk so your hair brushed the edge of his notes.

He didn’t notice you at first—too focused, too nervous. Or maybe he did, in that quiet way he always did, stealing glances when he thought you wouldn’t see. Because he had noticed you. For a while now. You leaned against his desk, close enough that your presence disrupted his careful little bubble. His pen stuttered instantly, dragging a crooked line across the page.

"I—oh! Sorry!" he blurted, sitting up too fast, nearly knocking his notebook over. His cheeks flushed pink almost immediately. "Am I in your way? I can—uh—I can move—"

"I don't want your bag, Jimin," you said, tilting your head and letting your finger trace the edge of his notebook. "I want to know why you're so cute when you're stressed."

He froze, mouth opening and closing like a fish, eyes darting around the classroom as if someone might explain why this was happening. His hands twitched nervously, and he swallowed hard.

"C-cute? Me? I… I think you have the wrong person. I'm just… just the guy who… who checks the notes. You’re… talking to me?"

"I’m flirting with you," you said, leaning just a little closer. "Is it working, or do I need to be more obvious?"

He nearly choked the word, cheeks reddening. "You're flirting with me ?!" Then, almost a whisper. "I… I think I forgot how to… breathe."