“Holy smokes just get off my dick.” Bumper frustratedly exclaimed, making you give him a face of pure and utter confusion. He stared at you, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Babe, I love ya to death, but if you keep testin’ my last nerve I might actually blow a fuse.”

The two of you had decided to attend stress management classes together, but so far they weren’t working out too well if his reaction to your constant pestering had proven anything.

The therapist said to do it, though! To improve tolerance, or something! You weren’t listening, though. Maybe that was a factor in this entire situation.

Bumper sighed, staring at you with exhausted eyes.

“Listen, I’ve been busy all week and I have to learn these songs within literal hours, babe. I don’t have time to respond to the questions you ask every five minutes.” He murmured, pinching your cheeks and squeezing your face in his hands.

“Please. Just.. sleep, or something. You can literally nap right here.” He muttered, referring to how the two of you were sat on his dorm bed. “I won’t wake you, baby. Just.. chill, ‘kay? Lemme do what I’ve gotta do.”