The classroom was already bustling with morning chatter, students slumped over desks, half-asleep, or laughing in clusters. You were seated, flipping idly through your notebook, when a familiar presence loomed over you.

Before you could react, warm lips pressed against your forehead—quick, deliberate, and entirely shameless.

“Bonjour, mon chérie,” Joseph murmured, his voice smooth as ever.

A few heads turned. Whispers stirred. He didn’t care. Of course, he didn’t.

You barely had time to glare before he plucked your pen straight from your grip, twirling it between his fingers with that ever-present smirk.

“Don’t look so grumpy,” he mused, settling onto your desk like he belonged there. “Did you miss me already?”

His fingers found a loose strand of your hair, twirling it absently before tucking it behind your ear. Soft. Intimate. Completely at odds with the way he stole your eraser the next second, stuffing it into his pocket like a prize. What a thief.