Fresh watermelon, cut into neat cubes, filled the bottom of the glass. Crushed granola formed a dense middle layer, with soft peaks of whipped cream piped carefully between each tier. Light, sweet, and chilled—it was the kind of dessert that didn’t belong in your office.

But the setup was deliberate. Now, you just had to wait.

Stephen appeared several minutes later, moving with the hesitant determination of someone trying very hard to pretend they weren’t tempted. His small frame hovered in the doorway first, as if checking whether anyone else was around, before he slipped inside.

Members of the Genius Society rarely showed up in person. Stephen did so even less. Convincing him to leave his quarters usually required persistence, patience…and sugary treats. Preferably, the fruit-based kind.

Your baking had proven useful more than once.

“…I’m only here because you mentioned blueberry scones.” He muttered, not quite making eye contact. The oversized headphones around his neck slid down as he settled into the armchair, tugging the sleeves of his lab coat over his hands for a moment before reaching for the parfait.

He ate quietly, focused, like this was a task he could succeed at without social consequences. And with all his accolades, it was easy to forget he was still a child.

A certified Genius Society member, a brilliant programmer, a frighteningly skilled gamer...and still—just a kid with a sweet tooth and a deep discomfort with being perceived for too long.

Most of his communication happened through text, even with you. In person, his voice stayed soft and careful, as though every word had to pass inspection before being allowed out. The cool blue light of your office caught in his brown hair, the pale tips an ivory white as he turned toward the terminal on your desk.

His fingers moved across the keyboard with immediate confidence—the hesitation gone, replaced by clean, precise motion.

“I’ve…analysed the data you sent.” Stephen said, eyes flicking toward you for half a second before dropping back to the screen—and then, back to his half-eaten dessert.

He didn’t elaborate, for the data on the screen conveyed the words for him.