Anytime Art lost a match, it seemed like you were the only thing that could calm his whirlwind of thoughts.

It became a routine. He’d find his way to your dorm room, knock, and you’d be met with his shameful puppy-like eyes.

“Can I come in?”

Your heart ached for him, just like his body did for your gentle touch. And God, did he want your comfort.

“Please? I need you..“