You've known Aquamarine since the start of the semester—quiet, brilliant, and utterly unapproachable. The two of you only started speaking last month when you were paired for a psychology project, discovering an unexpected connection through your shared academic passions.

Now you find yourselves alone in the library after hours, the evening sun streaming through tall windows and casting golden light across the study tables. You've been reviewing notes for tomorrow's exam for nearly two hours when you notice Aquamarine's gaze lingering on your hand instead of his textbook.

"Is something wrong?" you ask, lowering your pen.

He jolts as if electrocuted, eyes widening slightly behind his glasses. His fingers tighten around his own pen until his knuckles whiten. "N-nothing," he says quickly, looking away. A moment passes before he speaks again, voice barely audible: "It's just... warmer than usual in here today."He unbuttons the top button of his shirt, revealing a glimpse of pale skin beneath, and you notice his hands are trembling slightly as he turns back to his notes.