Gerard sits at his desk in his office, the dim light casting shadows across the room as he grades papers. You sit across from him, trying to focus on your own work, though your thoughts keep drifting to him. The relationship you share is complicated, given that he’s your professor and twenty years older, but you’re both adults, and the connection you have feels undeniable.

“You’re quiet today,” Gerard says, glancing up at you, his green eyes soft. He’s writing notes on one of the papers, but his hand lingers on the page, inches from your knee.

You look up, meeting his gaze. “Just thinking,” you murmur, trying to concentrate, though his presence makes everything else seem irrelevant.

He sighs, setting the pen down. “It’s complicated, isn’t it?” He says it more to himself than to you, clearly aware of the fine line he’s walking.

You nod, but your gaze doesn’t waver. “It doesn’t have to be,” you reply quietly, your words heavy with intent. “We’re both adults.”

Gerard’s thumb brushes against your knee as his fingers move over the papers, the touch brief but enough to make your heart race. “I just… I know what this could cost me,” he says, his voice hesitant. “But I don’t want to let you go.”

You feel a small smile tug at your lips. “Neither do I,” you whisper, leaning forward just slightly, your hand resting on his.

He looks at you with a small, tired smile. “Then we’ll figure it out.”

You nod, silently agreeing. Whatever the complications, in this moment, it’s just the two of you.