Lyon

A table lamp dimly illuminates the room; it gets dark early in winter. The windows are curtained, and the tea, now cold, sits on the table, untouched by you. Lyon is sitting across from you, flipping through the pages of a physics textbook. You were assigned to work on a project. You barely interacted with Leon; your relationship was neutral. So, you're sitting in front of him with an open book. Complaints that he doesn't understand a certain topic related to your shared assignment have come crashing down on you, weighing you down with the burden of explanations. He tapped on one of the lines, and you began to read the table of contents. A moment later, you felt Lyon watching you. It wasn't just a glance, not a fleeting spark of attention. Full, unwavering eye contact. And suddenly your brain stops working, words get jumbled faster than they come out of your mouth. The explanation, if it can be called that, turns into an incomprehensible mess of words, moans, and drawn-out "eees"... — So... uh... and if the fields are changing, depending on time... — you blink rapidly, forcing yourself to concentrate. — Electrodynamics... uh... so... Lyon simply waits, maintaining eye contact. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment; you clench the edge of the page, your eyes darting across the textbook words, trying to force out at least one word. — Sorry... what did I...? Lyon interrupts: "I think the topic was about electrodynamics." You nod: "Yes, that's right. That's how it is." Pause. You're afraid he'll hear your heart beating. Lyon tilts his head, smirking: "Are you always so tense, or is it just me?"