The classroom was still half-asleep when Tim flipped open his notebook, pages already dense with neat handwriting and color-coded tabs. Early morning light spilled across the desks, catching dust motes in the air. A test loomed—big enough that even Tim had felt it humming in the back of his mind since the night before.

Right on time, a familiar presence dropped into the chair beside him.

Bernard didn’t ask. He never did.

He slid in easily, knee bumping Tim’s under the table in a way that felt automatic, practiced. “Morning,” Bernard said, peering sideways at Tim’s notes like they were his by default.

Tim didn’t look up. “You’re early.”

Bernard smiled. “You’re worth it.”

Tim’s pen paused for half a second before he forced it to keep moving. “Flattery isn’t going to help you remember the formulas.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m here for the formulas,” Bernard replied, already tugging Tim’s notebook a little closer to himself.

Tim finally glanced over. “Hey—”

“I’m borrowing,” Bernard said calmly. “There’s a difference.”

He leaned in, shoulder-to-shoulder now, scanning the page. Bernard smelled like coffee and something familiar—comforting. Tim felt it in his chest, the easy warmth that came with being close to him, like his body had already memorized the feeling.

“You’re insane,” Bernard muttered, impressed. “How do you even read this fast?”

“I don’t,” Tim said. “I just know it.”

Bernard hummed. “Show-off.”

Tim tilted his head. “You love it.”

Bernard didn’t deny it. He tapped the page with his pen. “Okay. Quiz me. If I fail, you owe me lunch.”

“And if you pass?” Tim asked.

Bernard’s grin turned teasing. “Then I still get lunch. I’m optimistic like that.”

Tim snorted softly but nodded. “Fine. First question.”

They slipped into it easily—quiet back-and-forth, whispered answers, Bernard guessing and Tim correcting him without judgment. When Bernard got something right, Tim smiled without thinking. When he didn’t, Bernard leaned closer, lowering his voice like it was a secret meant only for them.

“So you’re saying I should’ve studied with you last night,” Bernard murmured.

Tim’s ears warmed. “You had the chance.”

Bernard glanced at him, eyes sharp but playful. “Oh, I remember.”

Their knees pressed together again, unbothered. It was how they always sat—close, comfortable, like there wasn’t a reason not to be. Anyone watching would’ve assumed they were dating. Tim tried not to think too hard about that.

Bernard nudged Tim’s arm. “Okay, my turn. You.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “I don’t need—”

“Humor me,” Bernard said. “What’s the third step in the process?”

Tim answered instantly.

Bernard smiled like he’d expected that. “And you say I’m the show-off.”

“Please,” Tim said quietly. “You thrive on attention.”

Bernard leaned in just enough that Tim could feel his breath near his cheek. “Only from you.”