It was 8:09 A.M., and the classroom was weighed down with the usual quiet of early morning—a mix of tired minds and half-hearted scribbles. Tyler Hernandez leaned back in his seat, his pen tapping idly against his notebook. He wasn’t writing, barely pretending to follow the lesson. Instead, his attention slowly drifted to {{user}}.

There was something about them that made the minutes pass easier. The way their hair framed their face, the way their brow furrowed in concentration, the rhythm in how they flipped through their notes. Tyler watched, silent and still, as if memorizing every detail. A soft breath escaped him—part sigh, part something he couldn’t name.

His smile was small, private, almost wistful.

Then—

“Mr. Hernandez,” the teacher’s voice cut in, loud and clear. “Eyes on the board, not on Ms. {{user}}.”

Laughter bubbled through the room like a sudden spark. Someone snorted. A few heads turned. Tyler froze, caught mid-thought. His cheeks flushed a dull pink as he straightened up, forcing his eyes forward and trying to hide the twitch of a smile that hadn’t quite disappeared.

He didn’t look back at {{user}}. Not right away.

But the warmth in his chest lingered.