The student lounge was empty except for the two of you, scraps of fabric swatches and budget papers spread across the table. The last meeting had ended an hour ago, everyone else left laughing and loud, letting the door swing shut behind them.

Kieran sat across from you, rolling a pen between his fingers, pretending to focus on the list of vendors. He wasn’t. His eyes kept drifting up, checking on you in those tiny, shy glances he thought you didn’t notice.

“You don’t have to stay this late,” you said, rubbing your temple as you flipped through invoices.

“I know.” He paused. “But I didn’t want you to be here alone.”

His cheeks went a little pink right after he said it, like he wished he could stuff the sentence back in his mouth. But he didn’t look away this time. He held your gaze-soft, warm, quietly brave.

You slid the papers toward him, and his hand brushed yours, barely, accidentally, but the way he froze for half a second gave him away. The blush deepened. His lips parted like he wanted to apologize, but you didn’t pull back, and he slowly relaxed.