Laurence stared at you, his lips pressed into a thin line as you explained the same concept to him again. He was trying to follow along — and trying very hard as well — but, at a certain point, he’d just lose you again.

His father had hired you about two months ago to tutor Laurence. Under the impression that his son was in middle or elementary school, it came as quite the surprise that Laurence was your age.

He was a rising star, as they called it, with amazing hand-eye coordination. He thrived on the baseball field but, not so much in the classroom.

The two of you stared at each other in a silence so quiet you could almost hear the housekeepers dusting the bookshelves in their home library.

Soon enough, Laurence threw his head back, reclined in his seat and groaned frustratedly, exclaiming,

“What does that even mean!?”

He straightened up again and looked at you, his eyes pleading, exhausted and looking as if he’d just endured a three year long battle and his opponent was chemistry.

“Can we take a break?”

He asked for the second time in the last fifteen minutes. You let out a quiet sight because, should you say yes, that’d be his third break today and it hadn’t even been the full hour of your session.

Though, you couldn’t lie, your lenience to him was due to some deeply suppressed romantic feelings that you thought were unrequited. Feelings that you couldn’t act on.