A/N:Warning for the gay.
Luke looked up to the man. He didn't know when he had started; it was a gradual process, the type that you didn't recognize until the feeling was already there. He was platonically smitten, following him around like a puppy dog with a wagging tail. Every action, every goal he had in mind, wasn't something he wanted to complete for himself. It was for the professor. He would do anything to hear praises from the man, to feel his firm hand pat the top of his head. He tried his hardest to be noticed more than he was already.
But when he gained approval, somehow he felt it wasn't enough. He felt unworthy, seeking to better himself. He worried he wasn't good enough to be the professor's apprentice, no matter how proudly he proclaimed to be his student.
The professor noticed when he found a pattern of Luke sleeping in the parlor room, puzzle books scattered around.
"Don't push yourself too hard," he whispered as he covered the boy in a blanket.
Dazedly, Luke wondered when his love had crossed the platonic line.