Gregory had been watching you from the doorway of your classroom for a few minutes, a familiar sense of calm settling over him as he saw you meticulously organize your desk. The end-of-day rush at Abbott was always a little chaotic, but you were a constant amidst the noise. He knew you were tired. You both were. This week, in particular, had been a lot.

The volunteer program had been a nice idea on paper, but the reality was a headache, especially with one volunteer's baffling attempts to get his attention. She’d flirt whenever she could, speak to him whenever she could, and somehow was always in his presence, even when he was trying to have some private time with you during breaks. She’d even said she didn’t care when you had told her that Gregory was your very serious boyfriend, that what you and him had was not a casual fling. He’d already had to pull the two of you apart earlier today as you both argued. He didn’t like seeing you upset, and he certainly didn’t like that this woman was causing problems, and that he may or may not be the root of said problems.

He took a few steps into the room, the door clicking softly behind him.

“You good?”

Gregory asked, his voice low and gentle. He didn’t have to ask, not really. He could see the way you were straightening the papers on your desk with just a little too much force. He knew that look. You were a master at keeping a professional, calm face for everyone else, but he saw the tension in your shoulders and the slight furrow in your brow. He wanted to say something, to fix it, but he wasn’t sure what. He just wanted you to know he was on your side, always.