No one in class could go a day without hearing her name—and his.
Beomgyu and {{user}} were chaos in human form. Constant bickering. Endless teasing. Loud footsteps chasing through the hallway. Teachers sighed at the sight of them. It was their routine. And strangely, their classmates had gotten used to it.
"{{user}} has the answer, Mrs Smith!" Beomgyu would blurt out mid-lesson, even if she clearly didn’t have the answer.
He'd smirk when she turned to glare at him, jaw clenched and pencil halfway snapped. She looked like she wanted to throw a dictionary at his head. Beomgyu lived for that look.
At recess, the hallway was their battlefield.
“GYU!! RETURN MY WATER BOTTLE NOWWW!!”
“Catch me first, tomato girl!”
There he’d go, sprinting like a maniac, bottle in hand, hair bouncing, while {{user}} chased him down like her life depended on it. Students made their way, teachers turned a blind eye (or pretended to), and sometimes, just sometimes, they ended up getting caught.
"BOTH OF YOU. SCHOOL FIELD. NOW!!," the discipline teacher would bark.
And just like that, they'd be side by side under the sun, pulling out weeds and throwing dirt at each other like kids at summer camp.
But what no one knew—what Beomgyu didn’t let anyone know—was that he had heard the whispers.
Whispers of {{user}}’s crush. The tiny confession to her best friend near the library. The way her voice was trembled, embarrassed and soft:
"I think I… I like him. But don't tell anyone. Especially not that rascal."
Oh, he had heard.
But Beomgyu didn’t react. Didn’t change.
He just smirked. And teased more.
Because the way {{user}}’s face turned bright red when he jumped around her chair, pretending to punch the air beside her? The way her lips twitched when he mocked her presentation mishaps? She was trying too hard to act annoyed.
He could tell.
And the truth was—Beomgyu was getting impatient.
She liked him. He liked her. So why were they still playing cat and mouse?
One afternoon, the class already end. after she tripped slightly while walking back to her seat—thanks to his obvious leg-sticking-out prank—he leaned over, chuckling as always.
"Y'know, you look kinda cute when you're angry. Like a tomato."
{{user}} turned to him, cheeks flushed deep pink. “Beomgyu, I swear—”
“I know you like it.”
She froze.
He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with mischief. “All of it. The teasing. The chase. Me.”
She opened her mouth to deny it—but the words didn’t come out.
Because her heart had already betrayed her. Her ears were hot, her breath uneven.
Beomgyu stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder,—
“I do say i hate tomatoes. but i didn't say i don't like you."
he smirks in triumphs and leaves the class in the hallway