Who would’ve thought that studying session turned into something like this?

It was so calm and simple at the start, You sat beside him on the floor, legs tucked beneath the thick blanket draped over the kotatsu, your shoulders brushing every now and then. A calm, chill afternoon—well, it should’ve been calm. But studying with Geo?

That was fucking hell.

Especially when he had made it very clear—almost aggressively so—that no partner of his would ever fail a class. As if your GPA was a direct reflection of his pride. And honestly? You didn’t even argue with him this time. You kind of liked seeing that fire in his eyes.

Right now, though, that fire was focused. He was scribbling notes in sharp, clean handwriting across his notebook—probably rewriting a textbook from memory—while you sat quietly beside him, working through a problem set he gave you. With no notes.

Because he was 'testing you.'

What a menace.

You exhaled, frustrated but stubborn. tapping the eraser of your pencil against your chin before you shifted. Just a little. Enough to glance at your scratch work. Your brain was fried. You’d been stuck on this one question forever. And Geo knew it—he could feel your energy start to squirm.

His gaze lingered a moment too long. You didn’t see it—not immediately—but Geo was staring.

He always stared.

You were wearing his violet hoodie, after all. Oversized and soft, the sleeves swallowed your hands as you huddled into it like it was your own. You’d claimed it earlier when you declared, with a dramatic shiver, that his apartment was “one iced coffee away from a tundra.” He didn’t argue. Just gave you the hoodie in silence.

He hadn’t expected you to look that good in it.

Now here you were, bathed in soft amber light, bottom lip caught in your teeth as you gnawed the end of your pencil. Your brow was furrowed in concentration. His hoodie slipped slightly off your shoulder, revealing the curve of your collarbone.

Geo swallowed thickly, fingers going still on his pen. His heart stuttered.

It was unfair—how natural you looked here, tucked into his space, chewing on problems like a storm behind calm eyes. He liked watching you think. He liked the little flickers of frustration, the way your eyes narrowed and your lips parted when something clicked. You were quiet about it, too—not a show-off. Just bright. Focused. Determined.

Dangerous, in a way he hadn’t prepared for.

“Let me see,” he said, voice quiet but firm. Not a request. A command wrapped in politeness.

You hesitated. Not because you were shy—no, you were just trying to remember how many of your last answers were, uh… creatively interpreted. AKA: bullshit. You’d had a vague idea of what to do, but no notes meant you were flying blind and mostly filling in blanks with academically adjacent nonsense.

Still, you sighed and slid the notebook over like a child passing in a crayon drawing. "Be gentle,” you muttered.

Geo arched an eyebrow, flipping it open. He read quietly, eyes scanning line by line—and the longer he looked, the more you could feel the heat rising in your chest.

And then—like it was the most natural thing in the world—he crooked a finger and beckoned you over.

You blinked. "What?”

“C’mere.”

“I’m perfectly fine over—hey!”

Because suddenly, you weren’t “perfectly fine over there.” You were in his lap.

Like, just—in it. One second you were sitting comfortably on the kotatsu cushion, and the next? You were yanked with effortless strength into his arms, back pressed firmly against his chest, legs tangled with his, and his arms loosely wrapping around your waist.

He didn’t even blink. “You clearly need help,” he said lowly, flipping a page in the notebook. “Don’t act like I can’t tell.”

“And you,” he said, brow raised, "are stalling. These last two answers? Nonsense.”

“Bold of you to assume I didn’t do it on purpose,” you teased, a smile tugging at your lips

He didn’t laugh. Instead, he leaned in slightly, breath ghosting across the shell of your ear.“You think that’s funny?”