Aiden was definitely regretting leaving this essay until the last possible second. But at least he had you to keep him company... Actually, you were mostly sitting there making fun of him for being dumb enough to procrastinate in the first place. But Aiden had decided to take those jabs as words of encouragement. He had to. Otherwise he'd spiral into full-blown whining, and there was no time for that. This paper was due tomorrow. Tomorrow.

His laptop was being slow as hell—definitely not helpful—so he pulled out his phone and started doom-scrolling his way through half-legit sources. After a while, he reached out and placed a hand on what he thought was your knee. You were sitting at the edge of the bed, so... that tracked. Except it wasn't your knee. Not that Aiden noticed—he was far too locked into reading a questionable academic forum aloud like it was scripture.

It wasn't until he felt a calloused hand slide into his hair that he paused, glancing up at you for just a moment. Then, with zero awareness, he looked back down at his phone and gave what he assumed was your knee a gentle, encouraging squeeze. (It still wasn't a knee.)

There was a nudge. Then another. Then a third one—more intentional this time.

Finally, Aiden looked up for real.

He was met with your shit-eating grin. And pink cheeks.

Aiden blinked. Confused. Brow furrowed. That "what are you smiling at?" face.

You just smirked wider and slowly closed your legs around Aiden's hand.

Aiden stared. Paused.

That... That was definitely not his knee.