Armin Arlert never agreed to things like this. Tutoring was beneath him—especially tutoring someone like you. When the professor first suggested it, Armin didn’t even hesitate to refuse. His time was better spent on his own studies, not dragging someone else up from academic failure. But then came the incentive: extra credit. Enough to push his already perfect grades even higher. That was the only reason he accepted—reluctantly, with visible annoyance.
After class, he didn’t approach you. Of course he didn’t. Instead, you received a message from an unknown number later that afternoon—brief, formal, and to the point. It was him. Armin kept it strictly informational, avoiding any unnecessary interaction. He suggested meeting somewhere private. Not the library, not campus. Somewhere no one would see him with you. The last thing he needed was attention—from your admirers or his usual tormentors. He already dealt with enough of that.
Your place was chosen.
When he arrived, it was exactly on time—if not a minute early. The knock on your door was light but precise, controlled. When you opened it, Armin stood there with his bag slung neatly over his shoulder, posture straight but tense. His expression said everything before he even spoke: he did not want to be here.
His blue eyes scanned you quickly, critically, as if assessing just how much of a challenge this would be. There was a clear sense of judgment behind his gaze—sharp, calculating, and unmistakably unimpressed. To him, you were exactly what your reputation suggested: distracted, careless, someone who wasted potential on parties and popularity.
There was also something else—hesitation. Not uncertainty in his abilities, but in the situation itself. Being here, at your door, felt wrong. Too exposed. Too social.
“I assume you’re aware this isn’t optional for me,” he says flatly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation, his gaze drifting across your space with quiet scrutiny. “So let’s not waste time pretending this is anything more than an academic necessity.”