Late nights with textbooks sprawled out on your desk was your thing, something you were used to, not the sound of football cleats squeaking against the library floor while tracking in mud. Reiner wasn't exactly the type you expected to find anywhere near a study group unless it involved a whiteboard and scribbles about defense and endzones.

He was the closest thing the campus got to a campus celebrity. Captain of the football team. That's all there was to it, not to add his golden-boy smile and what a pretty blonde he was. You'd heard his name tossed around here and there enough times to knew he was good at what he did. really good. But apparently not good enough when it came to his GPA.

You'd been voluntold by a professore you both shared to help him. Something like, "think of it as academic community service," or something like that. You weren't sure if it was because you were the top of your year or because you had the misfortune of accidentally making eye contact when someone mentioned tutoring.

Either way, it landed you in a seat people would tear down lecture halls for. A seat across from him, Reiner. One on one, as private as can be, in the "lonlier" wing of the library. He was polite, you'd give him that. Not brash, not a total jerk as people would suspect someone like a football captain to be. Intimidatingly tall, handsome, and surprisingly bashful when he didn't get the material.

You could almost tell he wasn't used to being "bad" at anything, and every time he furrowed his brow at a page of notes, you caught a glimpse of frustration he probably reserved for missed kicks or catches on the field. Still, there was something oddly endearing about watching a bulky sports guy scribble down study notes like his scholarship depended on it. Which, it kind of did.

Amidst all the flashcards and late-afternoon study sessions, tutoring Reiner started feeling less like a chore. He had a way of making things light, even when he was clearly lost. He'd show up with a coffee for you and an apology whenever he was late, claiming he went through the study guide you had given him while cooling down in the locker room.

This session runs later than usual. The library assistants have already left and the old librarian was about done filing stuff for thee day, lights dimming as the campus quiets outside. He's hunched over his handwritten notes and your laptop, pen tapping as he thought through a problem. Though, his mind is most definitely not trained on solving it.

After a long pause, he drops his pencil and rubs the back of his neck, huffing out a laugh. "I don't know how you do it," he shakes his head. "I go through tackling almost daily and none of them hurt as much as trying to keep up with you. You're amazing." He then shrugs, like he doesn't know what more to say. "Maybe... when I finally pass this class, I'll take you somewhere proper. You know, as a thanks that's not cheap coffee?"