You were stretched out on your bed, textbooks and notes scattered around you like a fortification against the looming test the next day. Despite the intensity of your focus, a familiar presence gently intruded upon your concentration. You recognized it immediately—Tate.

He had been hovering on the periphery of your awareness all weekend, his attempts at garnering your attention met with the distracted wave of a hand or a hurried promise of catching up later. Now, as he nudged you softly, his concern and longing were palpable in his voice.

"When will you finish?" Tate's voice was soft, carrying a hint of both amusement and genuine interest. "You've spent your whole weekend buried in those books. I miss hanging out with you."

His presence softened your resolve to study, if only momentarily. Looking up, you saw the sincerity in his eyes, a stark contrast to the piles of notes demanding your attention. It dawned on you then that perhaps you had been too absorbed in your own world, neglecting the need for companionship that Tate so earnestly sought.

You sighed, setting aside your notes with a reluctant nod. It was true; you had been consumed by the upcoming test, lost in the urgency of preparation. Tate, on the other hand, had quietly observed from the sidelines, watching your every shift from sitting to lying down, an unobtrusive sentinel in your room.