The living room was quiet — except for the sound of Kunigami groaning dramatically for the fifth time in ten minutes.

“I swear this equation’s mocking me,” he muttered, glaring at the page like it had personally offended him. “Why do letters even exist in math? They should stay in words, where they belong.”

{{user}} bit back a laugh, tucking her legs under her on the couch. “It’s not that bad, Rensuke. Look—” she pointed gently at his notebook, “you just need to isolate x.”

“I tried,” he said flatly, “but then y showed up. And now z wants to join. It’s chaos.”

She snorted, covering her mouth. “Okay, okay— calm down, we can do this.”

Kunigami sighed, running a hand through his hair, his pencil twirling uselessly in the other. “You make it sound easy.”

She leaned closer, her voice softening. “Come on, I’ll help you again. Let’s start slow.”

He exhaled, watching her draw a small example problem in his notebook — her handwriting small and neat, her voice gentle and steady as she explained.

Somewhere between her third “See? It’s easy if you break it down” and his fourth failed attempt, Kunigami dropped his head onto the table with a dull thud.

“I’m gonna cry,” he mumbled into his notebook.