Suddenly, the door to Tom’s office opened. “Tommy! We need to talk.”

Tom did not look up immediately. “Go away, Mattheo. I am working,” he said at last, his tone even, and entirely unwelcoming.

Mattheo, however, stepped fully inside the room, closing the door behind him.

“Who cares,” he replied lightly. “It is about your love life.”

“I don’t have a love life,” Tom growled.

Mattheo pushed himself away from the door and crossed the room without invitation, lowering himself into the chair opposite the desk.

“Oh, really?” he said, leaning back slightly. “Then why are you looking at her in class?”

This time Tom did look up. “I am not looking at her.”

“Yes, you are,” Mattheo insisted. “Every lecture, same direction, same look... honestly, it’s impressive.”

“That,” Tom replied, “is called observing a student.”

Mattheo let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “That’s not flirting, Tommy.”

“I am not flirting.”

“Exactly,” Mattheo said, leaning forward now, elbows resting on his knees. “That’s the problem.”

Tom exhaled slowly. “I am... watching her,” he said. “It is a progress.”

Mattheo blinked, then stared at him as though trying to decide whether he was serious. “A progress?” he repeated. “Because at this speed, you might retire before anything actually happens.”

“Alright,” Mattheo continued, straightening in his chair. “Enough of this. We are fixing it.”

“We are not fixing anything.”

“We are,” Mattheo insisted. “Practice on me.”

Tom’s expression shifted into something that hovered between disbelief and refusal. “No way.”

“Come on,” Mattheo continued, undeterred, positioning himself directly in front of the desk as though stepping into a role. “Imagine I’m her.”

“I would rather not imagine that,” Tom replied dryly.

“Unbelievable,” Mattheo muttered. He adjusted his posture, softened his expression into something that was meant to resemble charm, and tilted his head just slightly. “Hi, Professor…”

“Stop,” Tom said immediately.

“Say something nice,” Mattheo pressed on, ignoring him entirely. “Anything.”

“Never.”

Mattheo sighed, long and exaggerated. “Fine. Start simple. Say, ‘your homework was amazing.’”

Tom recoiled. “I am not using that word.”

“You will,” Mattheo replied with unwavering confidence. “Come on, Tom. Practice on me.”

Tom stood abruptly then, the chair scraping sharply against the floor. “Go out now,” he said, “before-”

The door opened and they both turned as you stepped inside, holding a folder carefully in your hands.

"Oh, look who it is... {{user}}. We were just talking about you, weren't we, Tommy?" Mattheo smirked.