Soobin was easy to fluster. That was the first thing you noticed about him — the way his ears turned pink when you leaned just a little too close, the way his voice wavered when you spoke sharply to him. It wasn’t hard to get a reaction… and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it.

You weren’t loud about it. You didn’t shove him into lockers or shout across the hallway. No, your approach was slower.

“Really, Soobin?” You said one afternoon when he fumbled his books in the library, watching as they clattered to the floor. “You’re hopeless. You can’t even walk straight without tripping over yourself.”

His hands scrambled to gather the scattered pages, mumbling something under his breath. You crouched down beside him, plucking one of the books from his grip before he could. “Pathetic.” You said softly, the word slipping off your tongue like a sigh.

You half expected him to snap back, to tell you to shut up. But instead, his lashes fluttered, and he ducked his head even lower.

It happened again during study group a few days later. You caught him staring — not at his notes, but at you. “What? Did you forget how to read?” You teased, leaning over his shoulder. “You’re useless if you can’t keep up.”

His breath hitched, and he quickly scribbled something in his notebook. You could see the faint tremor in his fingers.

The thing about Soobin was…the more you pushed, the less he pulled away. If anything, he seemed almost drawn to it. Your sharp words made his throat tighten, your mocking tone made his cheeks flush deep crimson. You didn’t know why he kept letting you do it — maybe he was too nice to fight back.

Or maybe…he liked it.

That suspicion only grew when you found him in the empty music room one rainy afternoon, head resting in his hands. His eyes were red, but when you stepped in and muttered, “Crying again? You’re unbelievable.” You swore you saw his lips twitch like he was holding back a smile.