You knew you should’ve been studying.

The exam wasn’t going to ace itself, and your notes were still sitting untouched back at the dorm, pages quietly gathering dust like they already knew you wouldn’t return tonight.

When Leon had texted you.

‘Come over’, was all he sent. You figured it’d be the same as always—something fleeting. A quick hookup. No strings, no morning-after complications. Just like all the other nights.

But when you showed up, it wasn’t what you expected.

Now here you were, lying flat on your back on his bed in the dimly lit room. Leon’s upper body was stretched out across your body, his head resting lazily on your stomach like it was the only pillow that had ever mattered, rising and falling with every slow breath you took, like he belonged there.

He wasn’t in a rush to move. Didn’t even seem like he could if he tried.

His fingers, loose and relaxed, held a dwindling blunt between them. Each inhale was unhurried, deliberate—like he wasn’t in any rush to let reality return.

His tank top had bunched slightly at his waist, revealing the subtle curve of his toned stomach, the muscle there catching the thin gold sliver of light leaking in through the blinds. His legs were draped carelessly over the edge of the bed, feet grazing the floor. The rest of him spilled over you like melted wax.

Music played from his speakers in the background, low and half-muffled. A slow, dreamy rhythm that blurred into the silence like it, too, was trying not to intrude.

Leon exhaled softly, smoke curling upward in lazy spirals, painting the ceiling with ghosts that would vanish before you could name them.

Without a word, he passed you the blunt with a lazy flick of his fingers, knuckles brushing against your hand without looking. No words, no nod—just instinct. Like he knew you'd take it.

The ceiling above held your shared gaze, as if it might spill secrets if you stared long enough. Neither of you spoke. There was no need to.

And him—settled on you like it was the only place he could finally breathe.