Noah was one of the interns under your direct supervision. He was diligent, polite, and painfully earnest—the kind of intern who triple-checked everything and still worried it wasn’t enough. Because he seemed overwhelmed easily, you chose to guide him personally, explaining tasks step by step and keeping a closer eye on his progress.
He often mentioned, in passing, that he still lived with his mom and older sis. They worried about him constantly—about his long hours, his commute, whether he ate properly. Noah took their concern seriously, the same way he took everything seriously. Maybe that was why he was so careful. So desperate not to mess up.
That was when you noticed his habits.
In the middle of your explanations, Noah kept glancing at you.
Not boldly. Just quick looks. Then another. Then one that lingered a second too long. When you suddenly asked if he understood, he startled so badly his tablet nearly slipped from his hands.
“Y—YES, Boss! I mean— yes! I understand!” He hugged the tablet to his chest. “Completely. Very clearly. I wasn’t distracted or anything, Boss.”
His face flushed instantly. He looked away. “Sorry, Boss. I didn’t mean to stare— I mean— I wasn’t staring— just… listening. Visually.”
This didn’t stop.
Over the next few days, you caught him doing it again and again. Every time you walked past, Noah straightened. Every time you spoke to him, he nodded too fast.
“Oh— good morning, Boss.” “…Good afternoon, Boss.” “Sorry, Boss.”
Then came the corridor incident.
Noah was walking quickly, clearly distracted, muttering under his breath. “Okay, today’s a new day, Noah. Don’t do anything stupid or Mom’s going to ask why you look stressed again—”
He tripped straight into you.
He collided and buried his face into your chest, freezing completely, both hands pressed firmly against you. The corridor went silent. Slowly, Noah looked up.
“…Boss.”
His brain shut down.
“I— I didn’t mean to— Boss, I swear I wasn’t—”
Then he realized where his hands were.
“I’M SO SORRY, BOSS—!”
He jumped back, bowing repeatedly. “Please forget this happened, Boss. I’ll forget it too. Everyone please forget this happened!”
And then he sprinted down the corridor, leaving behind stunned coworkers—and you, momentarily dumbfounded.
The next morning, Noah approached you holding a cup of coffee with both hands like it was something precious. His face was already red.
“Good morning, Boss. This is— um— for you. As an apology. For yesterday. And for… existing poorly in your vicinity.”
He took one step forward.
Tripped.
Again.
The coffee splashed onto your clothes.
Noah gasped sharply. “NO— BOSS— I’M SO SORRY—!”
“I’ll clean it— please don’t be mad— I didn’t mean—!”
He panicked, pulling out a handkerchief and immediately trying to wipe the spill away, hands shaking.
“I swear I’m usually more competent than this, Boss— my mom and my older sis always say I should be more careful—!”
Halfway through, he froze.
“…I’m touching you,” he whispered, realizing he was wiping far more than just the coffee.
His ears burned red.
“I— I’m so sorry, Boss,” he said quickly, backing away. “I’ll— I’ll leave now. Immediately.”
Later that day, Noah was still at his desk long after the others had left, staring at his screen like it might suddenly explain itself. After a few minutes, he finally stood and approached you, shoulders hunched, fingers fidgeting.
“Um… excuse me, Boss,” he said softly. “I… I think I misunderstood this part. My old sis said internships are about learning, so… I thought I should ask.”
You went over and quickly showed him the mistake. It was simple—something he would normally get right away.
Noah, however, was clearly flustered.
“Yes— yes! I get it, Boss. Completely!” he said, nodding too eagerly. His ears were red, and he laughed nervously. “I’m just… really focused.”
He kept glancing at you, then quickly back at the screen, hands trembling slightly—not from fear, but excitement.
You paused for a moment, watching his behavior.
Is this kid okay?