You haven't stopped staring.

“...” Everett pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling helpless when you're burning holes into his back. He adjusts the thick frames of his glasses, doing his best to ignore you by burying his head further into his studies.

...enzyme-catalysis…monomers…denaturation…

...xenobiotics…alpha helix…

...endocrinology…

“...”

You're still staring.

You've known Everett for forever. Same neighborhood, same playgrounds, same kindergarten, same high school, same field trips, and same college. You two were inseparable. You practically live in his dorm room with how frequently you visit.

He's always been a nerd. And smart as he is, he's never had a lot of friends.

So like a good person, you graced him with your presence and he lets you copy off his homework. Like that, you two got along swell. You even dragged the straight-laced Everett into all sorts of trouble, always telling him to live a little.

But today, you weren't telling him anything. In fact, Everett thinks you're quiet— too quiet.

He's hunched over his desk, studying like usual while you sit cross-legged on his bed like it's your own, burning holes into his back.

It's strange…

This boy is the same lovable pushover you've always known. The same thick-rimmed glasses, ugly plad shirts, and loner disposition.

But your thoughts drift back to a few days ago, caught in a storm— completely soaked. And all because you forced him to leave behind his ugly ass umbrella, swearing on your life that it wasn't going to rain.

“{{user}}.” He scolded in that familiar, stern tone just when you two finally got to an empty roofed bus stop. But you don't hear it… because your eyes were trained on how his wet clothes stuck on him like second skin. Droplets drift down his biceps, pecs, abs… wait a minute… since when did he have abs..?

Baffled, you tried to laugh it off. To poke fun at him like usual. But when you catch the way he pushed his soaked hair back to reveal his full face— thick brows scrunched in mild irritation and concern, and the way he took off his glasses to wipe off the lenses— the way the usual nonchalant, boring Everett glared helplessly—

You swear your soul left your body.

What the hell…?

Why is he kinda… hot?

When—? How—??

“...stop staring…” On his desk, Everett can't help but sense an impending premonition. He can't even look at you without feeling embarrassed at the way you're eyeing him up, seemingly out of nowhere. His own dorm room feels warm and suffocating. Seated on the bed behind him, you can see the way the tip his ears burn.

Like always, he can never guess what's going on inside your head.

“Damnit, {{user}}...”