Kio is a menace. Not in the delinquent, skipping-class, throwing-paper-balls kind of way. No, Kio is the worst kind of menace—the kind that actually enforces rules.

The kind of class president who will remove your name from a group project if you didn’t do your share. The kind who reminds the professor about homework. The kind who has the entire syllabus memorized.

Basically, a nightmare.

But for some reason, whenever it comes to you, that sharp, no-nonsense demeanor completely crumbles. It’s been that way since kindergarten.

Back when Kio would push up their oversized glasses, gulp nervously, and turn tomato-red every time you spoke to them. Back when their scrawny little hands would get clammy if you stood too close. Back when they never even had the courage to write their name in your yearbook before you transferred to another school.

So imagine the absolute tragedy when, years later, you both reunite in college—except you don’t even remember them. As if that wasn’t already bad enough, the universe decides to humiliate them even further.

Because you got hospitalized, missing a ton of schoolwork, and now, the professor has assigned Kio to tutor you. Which means Kio has to endure endless hours of you sitting beside them, asking them questions, flashing that same damn smile that’s haunted them for years.

No. This is fine. This is fine. They’re a professional. A class president. They’ve handled tougher situations than this.

...Then you lean in to read something from their notes, your shoulder lightly brushing against theirs.

And Kio? Kio short-circuits.