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I sat in front of my laptop, my fingers pressed lightly against my temple, massaging the tension there. The weight of the day—the long hours of studying, the ridiculous snack issue with Franko and the trio of students, the endless noise that had drained me—had taken its toll. 

I wasn't sure what had me more exhausted: the academic pressure or the constant hum of expectations hovering over me. 

It felt like the universe had conspired to keep me from any peace today.

The soft, mechanical hum of my laptop was the only sound in the room, the kind of sound that fills the void when everything else falls away. I glanced at the time.

Five minutes had passed since the last class ended, and yet Wallace was nowhere in sight. 

Maybe he's changed his mind. Maybe he's not interested anymore.

The idea stung more than I wanted to admit. I sighed, the sound heavy in the quiet room. The silence was starting to press in on me, amplifying the hum of my thoughts, each one a little sharper than the last. 

I glanced at the door, half-expecting it to swing open, but no, it remained as still and uninviting as it had been all afternoon. Maybe I should just pack up and leave.

But just as I started to close my laptop, there was a soft creak from the door.

I looked up, startled, and there he was—Wallace. He stood in the doorway, holding my books and bag. 

The ache of disappointment that had been growing in me lessened, but something about his eyes something clouded in them made my heart tighten. I didn't have time to fully process the emotion before I smiled, the expression almost automatic.

"Hi," I said, trying to keep my voice light, though it came out a little more tense than I'd intended.

Wallace grumbled under his breath as he walked toward me, his eyes flicking to me with that unreadable look. He placed my books and bag on the chair beside me, the one I had cleared for him. But then, instead of settling in, he turned, making his way back toward the door.

I blinked, confusion rising like a slow tide. 

"Where are you going?" I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them, the unease creeping into my stomach.

"Where else?" he retorted, his tone sharp. "Home. Classes are done."

The words hit me like a sudden gust of wind, and I felt a strange sting in my chest. My heart dropped in the same way it did when I realized something had slipped through my fingers. I tried to swallow the lump forming in my throat.

"But I thought you wanted to read..." My voice faltered a little at the end, and I hated how vulnerable it sounded.

Wallace paused at the door, hand on the handle, and I watched him turn back to me. There was something apologetic in his glance before he spoke again. 

"Maybe next time," he said, voice softer now, but still distant.

I opened my mouth, the words already forming in my mind, but before I could speak, my hand moved without my consent. 

I didn't think or question, I just reached out and grabbed his pinky. My fingers curled around his in a light, almost tentative grip. The warmth that rushed through me was a jolt of electricity, and I couldn't ignore the way the tension between us seemed to rise.

"Please stay?" I whispered, the words leaving my lips before I could fully understand them. They were quiet, almost pleading, and they felt more fragile than I intended.

Wallace froze mid-step, his entire posture stalling as if my simple request had thrown him. His gaze dropped to where our fingers were entwined before it lifted to meet my eyes, and I could feel his breath catch in the stillness. 

The space between us seemed to shrink, the air growing heavier. Slowly, almost hesitantly he set my books and bag down on the table and took the seat beside me. My heart did a strange little flip in my chest, and I couldn't look away from him.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. I wasn't sure if I should if I could. His presence felt like a weight and a comfort all at once.

Wallace turned to me, his gaze locking onto me with a quiet intensity, and gave her a subtle nod.

Finally, I opened my laptop, the cool metal of it grounding me in the task at hand. As I revealed my manuscript, I felt that rush of excitement mixed with a fresh wave of nerves. 

Wallace was the first person to ask to read it, and now he was here, quietly scrolling through the pages.

My eyes kept wandering back to him, as though I couldn't help it. His brow furrowed as he read, and I wondered what he was thinking.

The silence stretched between us, a strange, peaceful stillness that felt at once natural and full of weight. Finally, it was Wallace who broke it.

"Can I make a suggestion?" His voice was low and casual.

"Uh, sure," I said, not sure what to expect. My eyes stayed on his face, watching his expression.

"How about in this part," he said, as he wrote something in my notebook. "you add a certain line from a song? It would match the tone you're going for perfectly."

I furrowed my brow as I processed his suggestion. "That sounds better! From what song is that?"

Wallace cleared his throat, his gaze shifting slightly, his cheeks flushing. He looked away as if embarrassed. 

"It's a lyric I was writing..." His voice trailed off.

My eyes widened, the realization hitting me. 

"Oh wow, are you turning this into a song?" I asked, a little more excited.

Wallace shifted uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. 

"Nah, it's just an idea. Not that great of a lyric to turn into music, so..." he looked self-conscious.

"No, it's a great lyric!" I insisted, my voice more firm than I meant. "I'd love to hear it when it turns into a song."

Wallace's shy smile appeared, his lips curling ever so slightly. He cleared his throat, pulling himself together.

"Anyway, enough with the song. How about in this part of scene 6, we also..."

And just like that, we fell into a rhythm, bouncing ideas off each other. I made the changes he suggested, and with each one, something in me felt lighter and more confident. Time seemed to move unnoticed, the hours slipping by without my realizing it.

That was until I noticed the time on the laptop.

I stood up abruptly, startled by the sudden rush of panic. My breath caught in my throat.

"It's already 7 o'clock!" My pulse raced, and I hurriedly started gathering my things. 

...

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