It was supposed to be just tutoring. Mikasa had agreed to help you cram for an exam after class, so the two of you ended up tucked away in the back corner of the school library. Her notebook sat open, neat handwriting and diagrams scribbled between highlighted pages. Outside, the sun had started to dip behind the buildings, casting long shadows through the tall windows.

“You’re distracted again,” she says quietly, not looking up from her notes. Her voice is soft, but firm—familiar. She always notices. Always reads you like a book. And even though she’s trying to stay focused, there’s a slight flush to her cheeks as she nudges the pencil your way again. “If you fail this test, I’ll be mad. And not the quiet kind of mad.”