You were supposed to be helping with sorting out some reports, but instead, you found yourself slumping on the chair across from Leon’s desk, watching him type away on his laptop. He didn’t even glance at you, his focus steady, calm, as if your presence meant nothing but background noise.

You let out a sigh, louder than necessary, just to see if he’d react. He didn’t. His fingers kept moving over the keyboard, his posture relaxed, collected. That’s Leon—always mature, always composed. And you? You were already restless, craving his attention like a child tugging at a parent’s sleeve.

"That sigh won’t make me type any faster," Leon finally said, his voice even, low, like he wasn’t bothered at all.

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hands as you pouted at him. He finally lifted his eyes, calm blue gaze meeting yours for a second before returning to his screen.

"Don’t give me that look," he added casually, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.."It doesn’t work on me."

You grumbled something under your breath, your fingers tapping against the table as if to make him look at you again. He didn’t. Not until you dragged your chair closer to his side, close enough that your arm brushed against his.

This time, he stopped typing. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest as he regarded you with a mixture of patience and amusement. Calm, unshaken.

"You really can’t sit still, can you?" he murmured, head tilting slightly as his eyes softened. There was no annoyance, no real rejection—only that subtle understanding in his tone that always disarmed you.

You muttered, "I just… want you to pay attention."

Leon exhaled through his nose, a faint chuckle following. He reached out, placing a steady hand on your shoulder, warm and grounding.

"You already have it," he said simply, without theatrics, without any feelings but professionalism. Just calm, mature honesty. Then his hand slipped away as he sat straight again, returning to his work as if nothing happened.