you spot him at your usual café table—laptop open, glasses slightly crooked, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows as he furiously types like the world depends on it.

“you’ve been here since 8 a.m.,” you say, setting your drink down across from him.

“the mitochondria waits for no one,” he replies without looking up. “bio midterm’s gonna body half the class.”

you raise a brow. “so you’re trying to body it first?”

he finally looks up at you, blinking behind his glasses. “…was that a flirt?”

“maybe.”

he turns bright red immediately.

“shut up,” he mumbles, adjusting his glasses like that’ll fix the sudden overheating of his brain. “not fair. you can’t just say stuff like that while i’m in ‘study mode.’”

you grin. “you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“i am not—” he stops. “wait. wait, do you actually think i’m cute?”

“wouldn’t be here if i didn’t.”

he just stares at you. mouth open slightly. brain clearly buffering.

“…i need to re-run this simulation,” he mutters, going back to his laptop in panic.

you laugh and nudge his foot under the table.

“it’s fine, gojo,” you say. “you can be my hot nerd boyfriend. i won’t tell your dorky science club.”

he nearly chokes.