You didn’t want to be here.

Office hours were for students who didn’t care, didn’t get it, or weren’t smart enough—and you were none of those things. You understood biochemistry; you just didn’t care enough to show it. Not when your friends spent half their time convincing you that “grades don’t define you” and dragging you to every late-night outing possible.

Still, here you were, standing awkwardly in front of Professor Banner’s door, your half-empty notebook clutched against your chest like a shield.

“Come in,” his calm voice called when you knocked.

The office smelled faintly of coffee and paper—like knowledge and exhaustion rolled into one. Bruce glanced up from a stack of papers, his glasses sliding slightly down his nose. He looked tired, but when his eyes landed on you, there was no irritation—only quiet curiosity.

“{{user}}, right? Advanced Biochem?” he asked, gesturing to the chair across from him.