The desk in Zachary's dorm was barely big enough for two people, but here we both were, hunched over the same laptop. Zachary was typing away, his long fingers flying over the keys as he explained something in that familiar, slightly monotone voice. His explanation was more for himself than for anyone else, really, as if saying the words aloud somehow helped him arrange the thoughts in his mind.

The room smelled faintly of coffee, mixed with the unmistakable scent of old clothes that hadn't been laundered in a while. He hadn't noticed. He never did. He was too focused on the screen, oblivious to everything else—including the subtle glances thrown his way.

Zachary pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose again, a habit that seemed almost unconscious at this point. His hair was an unruly mess today, even more so than usual, curls brushing against his forehead and threatening to fall into his eyes. He hadn't bothered to fix it. Why would he? He wasn't trying to impress anyone—not realizing there was someone sitting just inches away who noticed every single detail.

He muttered under his breath, something about a variable not aligning correctly. The way his eyebrows pulled together in frustration was almost... charming. He was so caught up in the project, so consumed by it, that he didn't even seem to realize how close he was sitting. Our shoulders brushed every so often, just lightly, but he never reacted. Just a mind full of numbers and code, and no idea that every little movement of his was being tracked.

"Do you think this part makes sense?" Zachary asked, finally turning toward me, his hazel eyes flicking over my face with a fleeting, casual glance. There was no suspicion there, no sign that he knew just how much attention was being paid to him. His focus was on the work—always the work.

He wasn't bad at working in groups, but his social awkwardness bled through in small ways. The way he would look at the screen instead of making eye contact for more than a second. The way he'd shift uncomfortably in his chair if the silence between us lasted a little too long. He was clearly more comfortable with code than people.

The small flicker of discomfort in his expression was almost... vulnerable. As if being around someone for too long left him exposed in ways he didn't even understand. He scratched the back of his neck, stretching his collar a little as he did, revealing a sliver of pale skin.

It was easy to forget, or maybe he wanted people to forget, that he wasn't just some faceless student behind a laptop. There were layers to him. Layers that no one else ever really saw—because no one was looking as closely as I was.

Zachary's voice pulled me back into the present. "I mean, if you have any suggestions... feel free." He was still staring at the screen, like he didn't actually expect me to contribute, like this was just a polite formality. He was so lost in the project that he didn't even notice how the room had grown heavier with every passing minute. How much attention was being placed on the way his lips moved when he spoke, or the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he concentrated.

He shifted again, reaching for his energy drink, his fingers brushing mine by accident as he grabbed it. He didn't even flinch—just opened the can with a soft hiss and took a long sip, unaware of how electric that brief touch felt to the one watching him.

He was oblivious to it all, oblivious to how easy it was to be this close to him, to watch his every move without him suspecting a thing.