"see, you aren't an idiot. you're just struggling."

the man leaned over you, staring at your hands and a sheet of scratched-out equations on the desk. his hair smelt nice. he'd made you do some of the hardest calculations, worrying they would be too hard for his students.

"it's looking good. you've got that number slightly off." he sighs. "you really should know better. you're one of my most intelligent friends."

he looks right at you, correcting the work and waiting for you to write more.