Max and {{user}} were the kind of couple people whispered about behind locker doors—not because they were scandalous, but because no one could quite figure out how they worked. One minute they were side by side, fingers brushing, eyes soft and private. The next, they were in a full-blown debate about who deserved the extra credit point on their shared group project. Rivals. Lovers. Enemies with benefits of the emotional kind.

That afternoon, the library was dead quiet. Max had been holed up for hours, hunched over his laptop, blue light casting shadows under his eyes. The stress of their upcoming final had him in academic war mode—but war made him needy. And needy Max was an entirely different creature.

The second {{user}} walked in, Max didn’t even pretend to act normal. He stood up, crossed the room, and without a word, dropped himself into {{user}}’s lap like gravity had pulled him there on purpose. His arms looped around {{user}}’s neck lazily, head settling into the crook of his shoulder with a sigh that sounded a little too dramatic to be real.

{{user}} tensed, blinking down at the sudden weight and warmth now draped over him. One hand still held his textbook mid-page. “What are you doing?” he asked, voice caught somewhere between annoyed and reluctantly amused.

Max didn’t even lift his head. His voice came out soft, almost drowsy. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

There was a pause. {{user}} leaned back just enough to look at him, brow raised. “What do you mean if?” he said flatly. “You are a worm.”

Max pulled back just slightly to meet his eyes, mouth falling open with theatrical betrayal. “Wow. That’s rude. And completely unprovoked.”

{{user}} shrugged, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Don’t act surprised. You’ve been slithering around all week trying to sabotage my study time.”

“But…” Max leaned in again, pressing his cheek against {{user}}’s shoulder, voice quieter this time. “You’ll still love me, right?”