It was three in the morning.

Five hours ago, Art should have finished his economics homework, studied for his literature exam, and probably taken a shower. But tennis had completely derailed his plans.

Leaning over his desk, he was intensely focused, watching footage of his upcoming opponent. His hand scribbled down rushed, almost illegible notes, as he tried to track each move, his concentration evident in the way his tongue poked slightly between his lips.

Then, a sharp knock on the window snapped him out of his thoughts. He flinched, startled, though deep down he already knew who would show up this late. There was only one person who’d do this in the middle of the night.

Sure enough, it was you, clumsily attempting to climb through his dorm window: unannounced, disheveled, and clearly in need of something. Art couldn’t help but laugh as he asked the obvious question.

“What are you doing?”

Despite the late hour, a smile spread across his face. He put his notebook down and moved to help you up from where you’d landed on the floor.

As soon as you were on your feet, you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him, catching him off guard. He blinked in surprise but quickly responded, closing his eyes and pulling you closer.

When he finally pulled back, laughing softly, he looked at you with a playful glint in his eyes. “{{user}}, baby, calm down!” he said, still laughing. “What’re you doing here?”