It started the moment the bell rang.

Tim was already flipping open his notebook, pen in hand, posture straight and focused. Bernard slid into the seat beside him a little less gracefully—his backpack thumped onto the floor, and he muttered something about “class being too early for thinking.” Tim hid a small smile, nudging Bernard’s knee under the desk in greeting.

Their teacher strode in holding a stack of papers like they were bad news. “Pop quiz on last night’s chapter,” she announced.

Bernard’s soul visibly left his body.

The papers landed on their desks, and Bernard stared at the page like it was written in an alien language. Tim finished his name, glanced over, and already knew. Bernard’s knee bounced. His pencil tapped the desk. His brows pulled together in that confused-little-puppy way Tim secretly loved.

Tim leaned in just enough that only Bernard could hear. “Hey,” he whispered, smooth, calm. “Breathe.”

Bernard let out a shaky exhale. “I don’t get the first question,” he whispered back, panic creeping into his voice.

Tim’s eyes flicked to the quiz. “It’s the one about the economic impacts,” he murmured. “Think—what happened after the embargo?”

Bernard frowned hard. “Uh… prices went up?”

“Good,” Tim said, a tiny, proud smirk tugging at his mouth. “Now why?”

Bernard searched his brain. “Because… there wasn’t enough stuff being brought in?”

“Exactly.” Tim shifted slightly closer, voice softer than the pencil scratches around them. “Write that.”

Bernard scribbled an answer, shoulders relaxing. Tim’s knee brushed his again—his silent “you’ve got this.”

Halfway through, Bernard got stuck again. He leaned over, eyes wide with that same helpless look that always made Tim want to tug him closer and protect him from literally everything, including pop quizzes.

Tim didn’t give him answers. He never did. But he knew exactly how to aim Bernard in the right direction. “Okay, for this one,” Tim whispered, tapping the edge of Bernard’s quiz with the end of his pencil, “remember what we studied about supply lines. Think shortages.”

Bernard blinked. Then his face lit up. “Oh! Right—right.” He wrote quickly before the thought evaporated. When he finished, he let out a sigh so relieved Tim had to bite back a smile.

The teacher’s heels clicked down the rows. Tim instantly shifted back into perfect-poster-student mode, pen moving, eyes forward. Bernard tried to mimic him but still looked like he was waiting for judgment day.

As soon as the teacher passed, Tim leaned closer again, voice barely a breath. “You’re doing fine.”