Extension Request ⋆˚⊹♡⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
Summary: Jake, a perpetually sleep-deprived TA at the University of Queensland, has seen it all—plagiarized papers, students bribing him with Starbucks gift cards, and emails sent at 3 a.m. begging for extensions. But nothing could have prepared him for y/n: a walking disaster with two left feet, a sparkly grey highlighter obsession, and enough optimism to cure global warming. She’s failing his class. He’s ready to quit. But fate (and a spilled coffee) have other plans.
wc: approx. 4.8 k words !!
Pairing: s. jaeyun x y/n
Next chapter: RE:Extension Request!
Masterlist: here!
genre: fluff, angst
A/N: all characters & images and references do NOT belong to me. I just like writing scenarios because i'm delusional and how would it be if ENHA were in a non-idol AU. In the meantime.. i'll be working on my SunJake fic on AO3! I'm also a huge sucker for teacher ASSISTANT jake... because only then TA x student would make so much more sense. There will be three parts to this fic so hopefully I get the second part done for next weekend <3
Jake was fucking exhausted. If the eye bags dragging down his entire face weren’t enough of a giveaway, he would’ve gladly let everyone see for themselves—barefaced, reeking of too many drunk cups of coffee and a desperate spritz of cologne. He was irritated, to say the least. At exactly 2:15 a.m. the night before, he got a sudden call from his professor, who was spiraling over 45 unread emails from panicked students freaking out about a surprise quiz (one that offered extra credit if they scored over 95%).
Jake didn’t want to seem unreliable—not at 2 a.m., and especially not through a phone screen—but the real problem was that he got roped into replying to all those emails across both his dual monitors and his phone. He was sick of the third-year students who had signed up for “Introductory Course to Quantum Physics” thinking it would be light work and an easy credit grab. Worse, he was beyond done with redirecting every single extension request to the FAQ link on the course page.
Jake trudged onto campus like a man freshly released from war—except the war was still happening, and the enemy was 45 emotionally unstable undergrads with bad grammar and worse email etiquette.
The fluorescent lighting in the campus convenience store stabbed his corneas as he stepped in, blinking like a gremlin. He made a beeline for the drinks fridge and grabbed a six-pack of energy drinks with the kind of urgency most people reserved for emergency surgeries or Black Friday sales.
“You alright, man?” the cashier asked as Jake dumped the six-pack onto the counter like it owed him money.
Jake didn’t even look up. “No,” he said flatly. “But thank you for asking.”
Swiping his card with a blank look on his face, he grabbed the plastic bag and slouched out the door, heading toward the faculty building. His legs moved on autopilot—he almost forgot that he had them in the first place.
When he pushed open the door to the TA office, Jay was reclined dramatically in the ergonomic-friendly spinny chair that Jake definitely wasn’t allowed to sit in, balancing a student’s unmarked paper on his knee like it was a cursed artifact. Sunghoon was perched on the windowsill eating a tuna kimbap that smelled like betrayal.
“Hey, it’s the face of academic burnout himself,” Jay greeted, not even glancing up. “Did you bring offerings?”
Jake dropped the six-pack onto the desk like a blessing from the gods. “I brought what sustains us. Praise be to taurine and poor decisions.”
Sunghoon blinked at him. “Did you sleep?”
Jake cracked open a can and chugged it like it was liquid salvation. “Define sleep.”
“Horizontal unconsciousness for longer than an hour,” Jay supplied, flipping a page with more force than necessary.
“Then no,” Jake said. “But I did answer fourteen emails about whether atoms have feelings. So spiritually? I’m dead.”
Sunghoon made a face. “Didn’t that one girl say she cried after realizing electrons weren’t real?”
Jake’s eye twitched. “She said they were ‘government propaganda designed to oppress the vibe.’ I had to stop myself from mailing her a physics textbook and a restraining order.”
Jay snorted, finally writing something in the margin of the paper he was grading. “You guys, this student literally wrote ‘E = MC Hammer.’ Like, spelled out. Underlined. With conviction.”
Jake stared at him. “Honestly? I’m giving them five extra points for that.”
“Same,” Sunghoon said, mouth full of tuna and rice. “That’s the kind of delusion I respect.”
The three of them sank into their chairs with the kind of collective sigh that could only be born from caffeine addiction and mutual academic trauma. The silence was only broken by the occasional scribble of a red pen and Jay muttering, “Why would you cite TikTok in a research paper?”
Jake reached for his second can. “Because the future is bleak, Jay. And we are all just atoms. Oppressing the vibe.”
Just as Jake was about to mark yet another paper that somehow managed to spell “quantum” as “kwontum,” his laptop pinged.
New Email: URGENT — EXTENSION REQUEST (AGAIN… sorry)
He squinted at the subject line, already filled with a creeping sense of dread. One click and the browser tab sprang to life—revealing a tragically long thread between him and one Y/N L., a name that now lived in the deepest abysses of his nightmares.
The most recent message sat at the bottom of the digital scroll of doom, bolded and shimmering with desperation.
[email protected]: please. pretty please with a fat cherry on top, just one more day for this extension. i’ll even submit a draft. or a diagram. or my soul. pls. 🙏🍒
Jake groaned out loud, dragging his hand down his face so hard it looked like he was trying to erase himself. “Oh my god. Not her again.”
Jay’s chair squeaked as he leaned back. “Let me guess. Extension Girl?”
“Extension Girl,” Jake confirmed grimly. “She requested an extension two weeks ago. Two. Weeks. For this very same paper that’s due this weekend.”
Sunghoon put his sandwich down slowly, eyes wide. “And she’s still asking?”
“She never stopped asking,” Jake deadpanned, pointing at the endless scroll of emails. “Every two or three days she adds another message. Sometimes it’s a new excuse, sometimes it’s a question that could have been solved by reading the syllabus, and once—just once—she asked me if I believed in horoscopes because her Venus was in retrograde and she couldn’t concentrate.”
Jay wheezed. “Wait. She pulled the zodiac defense?”
Jake nodded solemnly. “Said that because jupiter finally entered cancer is the reason why it made her ‘emotionally overwhelmed but also organized enough to panic in a structured way,’ since her jupiter lied in the opposing sign.”
Sunghoon blinked. “That’s kind of poetic.”
“That’s psychotic,” Jake snapped. “I’ve answered every message in that thread with simple replies. Just ‘Noted.’ ‘See syllabus.’ ‘Deadline is final.’ That’s it.”
Jay leaned over to read the thread and snorted. “Bro, your last reply was literally just: ‘Please refer to the calendar. Again.’ No punctuation. No soul. I love it.”
Jake slammed the lid of his laptop shut. “I can’t do this. I need a fucking raise. Or a therapist. Or both.”
Sunghoon picked his sandwich back up. “You sure she’s not into you?”
Jake looked at him, scandalized. “She emailed me at 1:32 a.m. once to ask if the assignment could be submitted in PowerPoint format. That’s not love. That’s academic terrorism.”
Jay was already typing something into his own laptop. “Honestly, I’m giving her bonus points for personality. Most of our inboxes are just dead air and bad attachments. At least hers reads like a sitcom.”
Jake took a long sip of his second energy drink and stared into the void. “If she emails me again, I’m going to respond in haikus.”
Jay smirked. “Bet she’d send one back. With sparkles and gifs and all.”
“Don’t tempt fate,” Jake muttered, reopening his laptop with the resigned sigh of a man who knew the battle wasn’t over.
Sure enough—ping—another email popped in.
[email protected]: WAIT WAIT I FORGOT TO ADD THE ATTACHMENT HERE IT IS I THINK pls confirm if you can open it it’s a weird file type my bad heh :)
Jake leaned his forehead against the desk.
Sunghoon patted his back. “Hey. At least she’s not asking about electron feelings.”
Jake didn’t move. “Don’t jinx it.”
Y/N woke up to the soothing sound of absolute betrayal—her alarm going off for the third time after her lecture had already started.
“Shitshitshitshit—noooo!”
She flung her blanket off like it had stung her and scrambled out of bed, crashing into her desk chair and nearly taking down her IKEA tagarp lamp in the process. Her room looked like a tornado clusterfuck in its best way—papers, pens, empty snack wrappers, and half-read textbooks everywhere.
She shoved her notebook, a leaking pen, and what she thought was her lecture printout into her tote bag, completely ignoring the laptop still charging on her desk.
Charger?
Didn’t see it.
Wallet?
Unimportant. Who needs identity when you’re late for Intro to Quantum Physics?
She practically launched herself out the door, one shoe barely on and the other aggressively squeaking with every step. The wind slapped her in the face the second she hit the sidewalk, like karma had personally clocked in for the morning shift.
“Okay, okay, I can still make it. I’ll just—I'll slide in late and pretend I was here the whole time. Act natural. Be cool,” she muttered to herself as she jogged toward the STEM building.
Halfway up the narrow stairwell, as she tried to take two steps at a time in a feat of athleticism she was absolutely not trained for, her foot caught the edge of the stair.
“OH NO—”
Her bag swung violently, her ankle betrayed her, and she faceplanted directly into a rather tough dark hoodie that smelled like black coffee and petrichor.
“Holy shi—” the figure hissed, recoiling as a large splash of coffee sloshed out of their cup, narrowly missing both their torsos.
Y/N scrambled upright, her eyes wide and her breath short. “Oh my god—I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t looking—I think gravity isn’t gravity-ing today for me—”
The hooded figure stepped back slowly, looking down at the splatter on the stairs. “It was a full cup.”
“Was! Past tense. Tragic.” She laughed nervously. “I mean, your cup if half full? That’s… optimistic, right?”
He slowly pulled his hood down, revealing sharp features, tired eyes, and a jawline that looked like it had tenure. He was definitely older—early twenties, maybe? A grad student? And from the sheer deadness in his gaze, she had a sinking suspicion she’d just accidentally assualted someone that could be a possible TA..
“You good?” he asked flatly, brushing some droplets off his sleeve.
“Physically? Mostly. Emotionally? Debatable.”
He blinked once. “Right.”
There was a long, awkward pause filled only by the drip-drip-drip of coffee and Y/N’s labored breathing.
“I… didn’t spill on your laptop or anything, did I?” she asked.
“No,” he replied. “You’re the only one who forgot theirs today.”
She squinted. “How do you—”
His eyes flicked down to her open tote bag, where a crushed granola bar and a pen were having a lonely existential crisis. No laptop. No charger. No hope.
“Oh,” she said weakly. “Rude but fair.”
He turned to leave, apparently content with letting the whole thing die right there on the stairwell.
“Wait!” she called out before her brain could catch up. “Sorry again. For the coffee. And the... trip up.”
He glanced back over his shoulder. “Just watch your step next time.”
She gave a small, guilty smile. “I’ll try. But I make no promises.”
He almost smiled—almost—but instead just gave her a slow, tired blink and kept walking up the stairs.
Y/N stood there for a moment, stunned, trying to collect what little was left of her dignity.
Then she picked up her bag, sighed at the wet patch of coffee on her sleeve, and muttered, “Great. The one hot guy on campus I bump into—literally—and I somehow make a really bad impression.”
Y/N yanked open the lecture hall doors a little too forcefully, the resulting slam echoing through the room like a gunshot. A wave of heads turned her way, eyes flicking from the professor to the source of the disturbance—her.
It wasn’t like she was trying to be invisible, but after her awkward run-in with the hot (and clearly exhausted) guy in the stairwell earlier, she could feel the embarrassment burning up her neck and into her cheeks. She winced, quickly closing the doors much more gently this time, then tiptoed over to an empty seat beside… a sleeping student?
Pushing a strand of hair from her eyes, she carefully pulled out the chair—putting all her faith into being quiet—and was immediately betrayed when it let out a sound that could only be described as a mating turtle.
The student stirred.
Y/N froze.
Her heart picked up speed as she lowered herself into the seat, trying to make as little noise as possible. She reached for her bag to grab her notebook and laptop—but paused. Something felt… off. Too light. Too empty.
She peeked inside. No laptop. No charger.
And… no wallet.
Panic prickled behind her eyes as the gravity of her forgetfulness set in. She tried to hold it together, but her throat tightened, and a sniffle threatened to escape. She was this close to letting the floodgates open when the student next to her finally stirred with a groggy yawn, sitting upright.
Y/N bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep it together—but a single tear still managed to escape.
“Hey…” came a low, concerned voice beside her. “Are you okay?”
She turned her head.
The guy had just woken up, eyes blinking slowly like he was trying to process if she was real or part of a dream he hadn’t finished. He had striking feline-like features—soft but defined, with sleepy brows raised in gentle concern. His dark hair was tousled, his expression dazed but genuine as he took in her tear-streaked face.
“Oh—shit,” he mumbled, suddenly more awake. “Wait, are you crying?”
Y/N quickly wiped at her cheeks, letting out a shaky, watery laugh that only made her eyes burn more. “No, no. Just... allergies.”
“Uh, right,” he said slowly, already half-sitting up straighter and glancing nervously around the lecture hall like he wasn’t sure what protocol was for this sort of thing. “You seem really allergic to being okay.”
“Um.. My name is Jungwon, by the way.”
“My name’s Y/N—but as you can see, it’s probably a bad impression from me huh.”
That earned a breathy chuckle from her, even as another tear betrayed her and slid down her cheek.
Jungwon hesitated for a moment, then leaned in a little and whispered, “Hey. Do you wanna get out of here for a sec?”
Y/N blinked at him.
“Just to take a breather,” he added quickly, motioning toward the door. “It’s not like I was learning anything anyway.”
Something about the way he said it—casual, not pushy, but still sincere—made her nod before she could think too hard about it.
He stood first, shouldering his hoodie and backpack, and she followed him quietly out of the lecture hall. Nobody paid them much attention—except maybe the professor, who paused mid-slide but continued without comment. As soon as they were out in the hallway, Jungwon ducked into the nearby washroom and returned a minute later with a fistful of rough paper towels.
“It’s not facial tissues, but it’s all I could find,” he said, pressing a couple into her hand with a sheepish shrug. “To be fair, this school barely provides functioning chairs.”
Y/N laughed again, this time a little more freely. She dabbed at her face with the scratchy paper and sniffled. “Thanks.”
They sat down on the long wooden bench just outside the lecture doors. It was cool in the hallway, quieter too. Students drifted past, but nobody bothered them.
For a while, Y/N didn’t say anything. She just sat, breathing, letting the waves of embarrassment, stress, and sheer morning chaos slowly wash off her shoulders.
Jungwon didn’t push her to speak. He simply sat beside her, stretching his legs out in front of him, slouching like he was used to making himself comfortable anywhere.
“So…” he finally said, nudging her arm gently. “Tough morning?”
“That obvious?”
“Only slightly more obvious than the fact that I drooled on my own sleeve during class,” he grinned, holding up said sleeve as evidence. “We all have our disasters.”
Y/N exhaled a laugh. “I overslept, forgot my laptop, forgot my wallet, tripped in the stairwell, possibly concussed a stranger with my head, and spilled their coffee—and then realized I have zero clue how to survive Intro to Quantum Physics without caffeine or a will to live.”
Jungwon’s lips tugged into a crooked smile. “Wow. That’s… actually kind of impressive. I only managed to fall asleep and get no notes.”
She sighed. “Speaking of, I’m gonna be so behind now. I didn’t even bring a notebook. Just vibes.”
“Well,” he said, pulling out his phone and unlocking it with a flick of his thumb, “you can have my notes. I mean, once I rewrite them into something readable.”
“Wait, really?”
“Of course,” he nodded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Here. Let’s exchange contacts. You can text me when you’re back on your feet or, you know, when you remember your laptop exists.”
Y/N blinked, warmth blooming in her chest. She took out her phone, thumbs moving with a little more steadiness now, and handed it over so he could type in his number.
“I’ll just write down my student email here too just in case,” he said, as he passed it back. “And you’re…?”
“Y/N.”
“Nice to meet you, Y/N, even if it was under… emotionally intense circumstances.”
She snorted. “You’re weirdly good at comforting people for someone who fell asleep ten minutes into class.”
“I’ve had practice. My older sister cries when she runs out of boba.”
“I mean, that is devastating.”
He smiled. “Exactly.”
They sat for a little longer, the awkwardness having mostly faded, replaced by something quieter. Mutual understanding, maybe. Or just the rare peace that comes after letting a bad morning breathe.
Then Jungwon glanced at the time and stood up suddenly. “Ah, shoot—I’ve gotta run. My shift starts in like twenty minutes and I promised I’d mop the floor before my manager shows up and guilt-trips me in five different languages.”
Y/N stood too, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. “Thanks for this. Seriously.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, backing away with a small wave. “You’ve got my number. Text me if you need help with notes or just… more emotionally supportive nap buddies.”
She smiled, genuinely now. “I will.”
And just like that, he was gone—down the hallway and out through the stairwell doors, hoodie flapping behind him.
Y/N sat back down on the bench. The hallway was a little quieter now. She pulled her knees up slightly, letting her bag rest on her lap.
Beside her sat the slightly crumpled roll of paper towels Jungwon had grabbed for her. It leaned against the edge of the bench like it belonged there.
Y/N stared at it for a second before a smile tugged at the corners of her lips again. Somehow, things didn’t feel quite so impossible anymore.
Maybe she’d still fail Quantum Physics.
But at least she wasn’t alone.
After Jungwon left, Y/N lingered on the bench for a few more minutes, letting her pulse settle. Her cheeks were still warm from crying, but the tissues helped. So did the odd comfort of someone being kind to her without expecting anything back.
Still, the lack of caffeine was hitting her hard.
Dragging herself upright, she dusted off her black sweats and made her way across campus to the small coffee shop tucked into the corner of the student center. The familiar smell of espresso and pastry warmth welcomed her like a hug she didn’t know she needed.
She got in line behind two students arguing about theoretical math, and when it was her turn, she stepped up to the counter with quiet confidence.
“Hi, uh… can I get a small French latte, please?” she asked, fishing a crumpled bill from her bag.
The barista nodded, tapping the screen. “Name?”
“Y/N.”
As she paid and moved to the pick-up end of the counter, she caught sight of the next person in line—hood up, earbuds in, black backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. Her stomach dropped.
The mysterious guy from the stairwell.
Of course.
He didn’t notice her at first. He looked exhausted, and beneath the hoodie she could now see the sharp lines of his jaw, the perpetual bags under his eyes, and the slouch in his posture—almost as if he was simply over it.
She looked down at her drink ticket. Then back at him.
It was probably extremely unnecessary, but before her anxiety could talk her out of it, she turned back to the cashier. “Actually—can I also pay for the next order? Whatever he’s having.”
The cashier blinked. “Uh, sure?”
“Thanks,” Y/N said, smiling as she held out her phone to tap. “Just… tell him someone felt bad.”
Feeling both proud and sick to her stomach, she accepted her latte and stepped aside. She didn’t have to say anything. She could just leave. But no, she stood awkwardly to the side like a plant in need of sunlight, sipping her latte and watching him step forward.
“Large long black,” he muttered to the barista.
“Already paid for,” the barista said with a nod toward Y/N.
The guy blinked, turning slightly in her direction.
Y/N waved sheepishly. “Sorry—again—for earlier. You know, the stairwell? The trip? The coffee... collision? I figured it was the least I could do.”
He stared at her for a long second, brows furrowing.
Then, “Right. That was you.”
Y/N tried for a disarming laugh. “Yup.. That’s me.”
He didn’t smile.
Not even a twitch.
Instead, he grabbed his coffee, said nothing, and made to leave.
“Wait, wait—” she called out, trailing behind him as he pushed through the doors. “I just—are you okay? From earlier? Did the coffee burn you? Or like, stain your notes or something?”
He turned around, eyes narrowing just slightly. “You’re really into follow-ups, huh?”
Y/N blinked, thrown off. “I didn’t mean—sorry. I just felt bad.”
“You don’t need to feel bad,” he said flatly. “Accidents happen.”
There was an awkward pause.
Y/N tried again. “I’m Y/N, by the way. I didn’t catch your name earlier.”
He sighed, clearly weighing his patience.
“Jake.”
“Oh, cool! Jake,” she repeated, as if saying it made him instantly less annoyed. “Are you in the sciences? You look kind of familiar, actually.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Same! I’m taking Intro to Quantum Physics this semester. Total nightmare, right?”
At that, something shifted in Jake’s expression.
It wasn’t quite surprise—more like something bitter curdling just behind his eyes.
He snorted. “You’re in that class?”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding with a hopeful little smile. “Honestly, I don’t think i’m doing too well in that haha..”
Jake shook his head with a humorless chuckle. “Then do yourself a favor and drop it.”
Y/N blinked. “Sorry?”
“You’re obviously not cut out for it,” he said, taking a long sip of his coffee. “You should be lucky you’re not the lowest-scoring student in that course.”
The words hit like a slap.
Y/N opened her mouth, stunned. “You… don’t even know me.”
Jake shrugged, already turning away. “Don’t need to. I’ve seen the grades.”
And then he walked off without another word, disappearing into the late-morning crowd.
Y/N stood there, her small French latte suddenly tasting a whole lot more bitter.
Fifteen minutes later, back at her apartment, she sat at her desk with her laptop open and the university portal logged in. Jungwon’s paper towel roll sat next to her, now a silent audience to her rapidly worsening day.
She clicked open the grade report, scrolling past her general electives and workshop participation until she found it:
PHYS 1400 – Introduction to Quantum Physics Grade to Date: 42%
She stared at the number.
Double-checked.
Refreshed the page.
Still 42%.
She leaned back in her chair, blinking up at the ceiling like it might offer answers. Or mercy.
Jake—Jake—was right.
She was failing.
Y/N let her head fall onto her desk with a dull thunk, sighing into the surface as the latte sat untouched beside her.
All she wanted was a do-over.
Of the morning.
Of the semester.
Of ever speaking to Jake.
Jake didn’t say anything as he walked out of the café.
The caffeine in his cup hadn’t even reached his system yet, and his brain was already spinning with regret. Not full-blown guilt, not yet—more like the sluggish drag of awareness creeping in through exhaustion.
The girl—Y/N—had just wanted to be nice. Paid for his drink, even after their disastrous collision in the stairwell. And what had he done?
Told her to give up on her class.
Told her she was lucky not to be the worst student.
He winced at the memory, his jaw tightening.
God, what the hell is wrong with me today?
Back at his flat, he dropped his backpack beside his desk and kicked off his shoes without untying them. His hoodie hit the floor halfway to the couch, and he collapsed face-first onto the cushions with a soft groan. The coffee sat cooling on the table in front of him, untouched.
Jake was just tired. That was all. Tired, behind on grading, and mentally fried from trying to manage three part-time research assignments, plus his own coursework, plus running tutorial groups full of students who didn’t know Planck’s constant from a soup spoon.
And then there was the morning mess. He’d barely made it to campus with five hours of sleep and half his notes soaked in lukewarm espresso thanks to that stairwell collision.
He’d been holding it together until she spoke.
“Intro to Quantum Physics,” she’d said—so cheerfully, too—and it felt like something just snapped in him.
Jake rolled onto his back and covered his face with one arm.
God, I sounded like an asshole.
She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She hadn’t been loud, or arrogant, or trying to waste his time. If anything, she was just… being human. Trying to connect. And what did he do? Lash out. Publicly.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes.
The coffee on the table was still warm. He took a sip and grimaced at the bitterness. Still, he didn’t deserve better. Not after that.
He hadn’t meant to be cruel. Honestly. But something about her caught him off guard. The way she looked at him—not with awe or suspicion, but curiosity, like she actually wanted to know him—had struck a nerve.
It was rare, and weirdly disarming.
And it reminded him too much of when he used to be like that. Before the burnout. Before everything started feeling like survival mode.
Still, he thought, it wasn’t her fault I’m a barely functioning grad student running on caffeine and trauma.
Jake leaned back against the couch cushions and stared at the ceiling.
She had smiled at him.
Even after she paid for his drink.
Even after he snapped at her.
And now she probably thought he was the campus version of the Grinch, only more bitter and less green.
With a long sigh, Jake closed his eyes. Just for a second.
When he woke up, the coffee was cold.
So was the side of his face pressed into the couch, and he had a crease mark running diagonally across his cheek.
He sat up slowly, blinking at the dim light that had shifted across his apartment. The sky outside the window was edging into dusky blues.
For a moment, he couldn’t remember what day it was. Then the memory hit him like a badly timed pop quiz.
Y/N.
He rubbed his face and let out a groan, the self-awareness creeping back in.
God, he’d been such a dick.
She hadn’t deserved that. Not the look he gave her, not the sarcasm, not the comment about her grades. And worst of all, she had looked… genuinely hurt.
He hadn’t meant to make her feel like that.
She’d just been trying to apologize. Trying to make up for a clumsy moment with something sweet. Who even did that anymore?
And him? He was too tired, too irritable, too emotionally constipated to just accept kindness without interpreting it as a threat or an inconvenience.
Jake groaned again and pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes.
“I need to get my shit together.”
It was an off day. That’s all.
A bad morning, too many missed meals, a deadline from a professor who liked to communicate exclusively in red ink.
Still, none of that gave him the right to tear someone down.
Especially someone who—let’s be honest—looked like she’d been having a worse day than him.
He remembered the way her face had faltered, just for a second, when he made that comment. The way she stood there, stunned and blinking, like the words had taken a second to land.
He cringed internally.
Maybe he’d see her again. Maybe not.
But he hoped—honestly hoped—she wouldn’t hold it against him. That she’d chalk it up to one of his bad days, rather than a reflection of who he really was.
Because deep down, Jake didn’t want to be that guy.
Not the one who made someone regret being kind.
finishing note: I am so fucking exhausted from work i haven't been able to update here and ao3... so here's to making up for this and fixing the aesthetics of my page :'0 I hope you guys like this, I really liked writing teacher assistant! jake, and i'll try to post the next part asap!!
with much love,
-deludar .☘︎ ݁˖