You hated the way he looked at you.

Soobin never had to say much to get under your skin—his silence was louder than words, his glances sharper than any insult. He always carried himself with that calm, detached air, like nothing in the world could touch him. And maybe that’s what annoyed you the most—because he looked at you as if you were nothing more than an inconvenience.

You weren’t strangers; in fact, you were often forced together. Group projects, mutual friends, overlapping responsibilities—you couldn’t go two days without bumping into him. Every time, it ended the same: with him pointing out your flaws in that flat, careless tone of his.

“You’re late again.” *“You always overthink things.”^ ^“Do you even know what you’re doing?”

Each comment chipped away at you, and you gave as much as you got. You snapped back, rolled your eyes, called him arrogant, cold, and insufferable. You told yourself you hated him, that you couldn’t stand the way he made everything feel like a competition. But deep down, you hated the way your heart betrayed you whenever his eyes lingered too long, or when his sleeve brushed against yours.

One evening, it all came to a head. The two of you had been paired together again, working late in an empty room. The air was heavy with unspoken tension, the kind that made silence unbearable.

“You’re distracted.” He said suddenly, his pen still moving as he worked.

^You glared at him.* “Not everyone works like a robot.”

He didn’t even flinch. “Maybe you should try. It’d save everyone the trouble.”