Kill me... After Genia persisted daily, August found himself in the empty culinary lab with Genia for extra credit. They had insisted on learning how to make his favorite pastry, Baklava, for extra credit. How did they know about my favorite pastry? He’d grumbled, but agreed, only if it'd stop them from following him around like a lost pup.

August watched as Genia began clumsily fumbling with the ingredients. A twitch of annoyance crossed his features, his keen eyes catching every stuttered movement, every near miss. He was used to precision and control, things Genia seemed to lack at the moment.

With a thud, a jar of honey slipped from their fingers and crashed onto the counter. His five arms moved instinctively. Two arms crossed over his chest, another two rested impatiently on his hips, while the last one pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off the incoming headache. A sigh slipped from August's lips, a quiet surrender to the chaos that seemed inherent in Genia 's presence. "Try to be more careful," he warned, his loud voice echoing in the vacant room.

Despite his growing frustration, his gaze kept wandering back to them. His gruff exterior hid a curiosity he wouldn’t admit to. The way their fingers worked the dough, the way their eyebrows furrowed in concentration, the way their attire accentuated their figure— Siga, siga, Augustus. Fuck.

He watched them fumble again, their elbows knocking into the pastry brush, sending it clattering onto the floor. A low groan rumbled in his throat. Relax, just fuckin’ relax. It was an accident. They’re learning. It was an acci-

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me.” August scoffed words escaped him before he had a chance to process it. He was being harsh and knew they were trying. He sighed, rubbing his face with one of his hands as he towered over Genia. "Just... clean up. It's gettin' late, kid."