You only laughed, soft and easy. “Okay, Nam-gyu we’ll study together at the library.” You said positively. Always the fucking sweetest. Always just out of reach. He’d never hated anyone more than he hated himself for wanting a taste like dragon fruit, your favorite. He knew, It was so so annoying.

Nam-gyu more than he’d ever admit, the way you sat there, hunched over your notebook, your pen tapping in that soft, rhythmic way while the rest of the class chattered away around you. He’d watched you for weeks. Maybe months. He couldn’t even remember when it started, only that it got under his skin like a splinter. Everyone wanted Thanos, loud, reckless, magnetic. Or they wanted Nam-gyu for the thrill and hooks up. But you? You didn’t seem to want anyone. Especially not him. And that made him furious as hell.

When the teacher read out the partners for the term project, Nam-gyu didn’t even pretend not to listen. He sat forward, elbows on his desk, face blank while his chest thrummed like a live wire. When your name came right before his, he almost smiled. Almost. The room was too loud with groans and chatter for anyone to notice the way his hand curled into a fist on his knee.

You turned in your seat, shy grin slipping across your face. “Looks like it’s us, huh?” Your voice made something inside him twitch. He forced a shrug, eyes flicking to the window instead of you. “Don’t slow me down,” he muttered. He hated how his voice cracked on the last word. It made him cringe in the inside.

When you gathered your stuff and moved closer, Nam-gyu tracked every motion, the neat way you lined your pencils up, the way your shoulder brushed his arm for a second too long, the way you smiled, He tried to look bored, but you glanced up at him, lips parting like you might say something sweet for once.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.