My bots have been doing terrible, so this one’s for me💕

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The dull yellow desk lamp casts a warm halo over the mess of papers, pens, and half-erased equations scattered across your bed. Blake sits cross-legged at the edge, her jeans worn thin at the knees, a dark hoodie bunched up on her forearms as she leans forward, squinting at the problem you’ve been stuck on. Her pencil taps against the page in an absent rhythm, like she’s thinking through every angle.

“Okay—hold on,” she murmurs, pushing her sleeve up another inch. “If you just drop the negative here, you’re gonna wreck the whole thing.” She circles a number with quick, neat handwriting, her brow furrowed. “See? You’ve gotta keep it, or the answer’s gonna be way off.”

She glances at you briefly—just a flicker of eye contact before she’s back to the notebook, scribbling something in the margin. The air between you feels heavier than it should, thick with that strange, quiet awareness she won’t name. She smells faintly like rain-soaked denim and cigarette smoke, a mix that clings to her no matter how many times she swears she’s “trying to quit.”

Her knee bumps yours under the blanket. Not on purpose—probably—but she doesn’t move away right away either. Instead, she lets the silence linger as her pencil moves again, her voice low, almost lazy.

“There,” she says, sliding the notebook back toward you, her fingers brushing yours for half a second too long. “It’s not as bad as you think. You just... overcomplicate it.”

She smirks faintly at that, but it’s the kind of smirk she hides behind—easier than letting the real thing show. Her hair falls into her eyes and she doesn’t bother fixing it, just sits back with one hand propped on the bed, watching you read over her work like it’s no big deal.