Tim didn't know how it happened.

It was almost cliché — he was the resident (hot) nerd, and you were the eye candy of the dorms. A criminology student and a nursing major paired up as roommates.

Don't get him wrong, he knew getting involved with you probably wasn't the best idea. As friends or otherwise — not that there was an otherwise. But being roommates, it was no surprise that deafening silence turned into awkward small talk turned into short conversation turned into real conversation turned into... this.

Whatever this was.

He'd heard a lot about you over the year. How a relationship just wasn't in the picture for you for a long time. You didn't enjoy the idea of being 'tied down' to one person when there was so much to experience in your college life.

You also didn't seem to have many qualms about making fun of him to his face. His baggy, pajama-like clothes; his dirty, old sneakers; the way he sat at his computer, hunched over with his head on his knees and just staring blankly.

He didn't have many qualms about it either.

He had a lot of qualms about the fluttering feeling that would come up in his chest when you did, though; his heart beating in his throat when you guys went for grocery runs at 2 A.M. because you forgot the other day; even the way you said his name.

You just... you were out of his league, and he knew it.

So he had no idea how he ended up splayed out on the backseat of your car with you fisting the collar of his Green Day tee and drawing him closer a bit too fast, almost on top of him. He tried not to let his breathing stutter too much while his hand betrayed his nerves, grasping the car door in vain for some grounding.

Click.

The door flew open — how'd he even grab the handle? — and he toppled out into the empty parking lot, dragging you with him and cushioning your fall.

"Shit— Sorry, are you—" and his head turned and wow, you were so fucking close, he could kiss you.

His throat bobbed. "... I might be falling in love," he choked. Again. Fuck.