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1st Time: The Chemistry Line
It started after school on a Tuesday. The sky was that soft blend of pink and lavender that meant spring was slowly unfurling across the city. Si-eun was seated on the school rooftop, the ever-present hardcover novel in his hands. Su-ho couldn’t tell what it was from the cover, but he figured it was probably something deeply philosophical or brain-meltingly dense—just like everything Si-eun read.
He kicked lightly at a pebble as he approached, rehearsing his line in his head for the third time. It was dumb. Objectively. But he was banking on dumb being endearing.
“Hey,” he said casually, leaning over the rusted rooftop fence.
Si-eun looked up from his book. “Hey.”
Su-ho took a breath. Showtime.
“Are you made of copper and tellurium?” he asked, injecting just the right amount of smug into his voice.
Si-eun blinked slowly. “What?”
“Because you’re Cu-Te,” Su-ho finished with a grin.
Silence.
A gust of wind fluttered the pages of Si-eun’s book. He didn’t look amused. Or flattered. Or... anything, really.
“That’s a chemistry pun,” Si-eun said, voice flat.
“Yeah,” Su-ho nodded proudly. “Clever, right?”
“No.”
“I mean, it’s kind of—”
“Not even a real sentence. Just a play on symbols,” Si-eun added.
Su-ho shrugged, flopping down beside him on the concrete. “Still. You’re not denying the accuracy.”
Si-eun sighed and went back to his book. “You’ve been hanging out with Young-i too much.”
“That’s rich coming from someone who literally used quantum mechanics to win an argument last week.”
“I was correcting him.”
“You were showing off,” Su-ho countered, nudging him lightly with his elbow.
They sat in silence for a few minutes. It wasn’t uncomfortable—just the usual calm that followed any attempt of Su-ho’s to chip away at Si-eun’s ironclad emotional walls.
A few moments later, Hyun-tak appeared at the rooftop entrance, holding two drinks and a bag of snacks. “Yo. What did I miss?”
“Su-ho’s trying to flirt,” Si-eun said without even looking up.
“Oh god,” Hyun-tak muttered, collapsing onto the roof with theatrical exhaustion. “Please don’t encourage him.”
“I’m not,” Si-eun replied, but his voice was lighter. The corners of his mouth twitched upward for half a second before disappearing.
Su-ho caught it.
It was enough.
2nd Time: The Programming Pun
The PC room buzzed with the sound of keyboards, mouse clicks, and Hyun-tak cursing loudly at his monitor.
“HOW did that guy snipe me?! He was behind a WALL!” Hyun-tak shouted, slamming his keyboard. “This game is rigged. It’s cheating. Actual cheating.”
Hu-min snorted from across the room, casually sipping his soda. “Skill issue.”
“I will end you,” Jun-tae hissed.
Meanwhile, Si-eun was at the corner desk, half-listening while scanning his notes for the next day’s quiz. The others had begged him to come out, and he finally relented, though it was clear he was more interested in study than socializing.
Su-ho plopped down in the seat next to him, chair squeaking dramatically as he leaned back with practiced nonchalance.
“You look tense,” he said. “Need a break?”
“I’m fine.”
“C’mon. Just for a second.”
Si-eun looked up, warily. “What are you planning?”
“If you were a keyboard,” Su-ho said with an exaggerated whisper, “you’d be the Ctrl key—because you’ve got control of my heart.”
He raised his eyebrows like he’d just unveiled a masterpiece.
Si-eun blinked once. Twice.
“That doesn’t even—”
“Think about it,” Su-ho cut in, grinning. “Ctrl. Control. My heart. You control my—”
“I understood it the first time,” Si-eun said dryly.
“Then why aren’t you blushing yet?”
“Because I have standards.”
Su-ho gasped. “That’s so cold.”
“You’re lucky I’m letting you sit next to me.”
Hu-min leaned over from the other row. “Are we seriously doing pickup lines again?”
“He started it,” Si-eun said, pointing his pen accusingly.
Jun-tae laughed. “What was it this time? Another science pun?”
“Programming.”
“Oh no. You’ve crossed a line, Su-ho. A whole new realm of geek.”
“Jealous,” Su-ho replied, lounging like a cat in a sunbeam.
Si-eun shook his head and tried to return to his notes, but Su-ho caught the faintest curve at the edge of his mouth.
He leaned in a little closer.
“You’re smirking.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. That’s almost a laugh.”
“It’s a grimace.”
“Uh-huh.”
But he didn’t pull away.
3rd Time: The Math One
They were alone in a quiet corner of the library. Stacks of books surrounded them like silent sentries. Si-eun had a notebook open, pen moving in neat, precise lines as he worked through a complicated equation.
Su-ho, who had given up pretending he needed help thirty minutes ago, watched him instead.
“You must be the square root of -1,” he said suddenly.
Si-eun paused. “Imaginary?”
“Because you can’t be real.”
This time, there was a pause. Si-eun stared at him.
And then—just barely—he snorted.
Su-ho lit up. “Wait. Was that a laugh?”
“It was disbelief,” Si-eun said, coughing lightly into his fist. “You keep surprising me with how much worse these can get.”
Su-ho leaned forward, chin resting on his hand. “Disbelief in how smooth I am?”
“Disbelief in how you haven’t combusted from embarrassment.”
“You say that, but you haven’t moved away.”
“I’m used to you.”
“Used to loving me?”
Si-eun scoffed. “You wish.”
Su-ho leaned closer, voice low. “Don’t I?”
Si-eun’s eyes flicked up for a split second. Su-ho caught the way his fingers tensed on his pen, the slight twitch in his jaw like he was trying to suppress a smile.
The library silence stretched between them, and for once, Si-eun didn’t break it. Su-ho reached out, gently plucking the pen from his hand.
“Hey—”
“You need a break,” Su-ho said. “Even math gods need to breathe.”
“I’m not—”
“You are. It’s hot.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“See? That’s basically flirting.”
Si-eun rolled his eyes, but he let Su-ho drag him away from the table toward the windows, where light filtered in across the carpet.
For ten full minutes, they said nothing. Just leaned against the glass, shoulders barely brushing, watching students pass below like a lazy stream.
“I don’t get you,” Si-eun said finally.
“I’m an enigma.”
“You’re a menace.”
Su-ho grinned. “Still. You laughed.”
“Once.”
“Progress.”
4th Time: The Literary Reference
They had taken the long way home. The sky was fading into twilight, painting everything in hues of lavender and blue. Their footsteps echoed softly against the quiet street, lined with cherry trees beginning to bloom.
“You remind me of a book,” Su-ho said suddenly.
Si-eun tilted his head. “That sounds ominous.”
“A rare one. One I want to read again and again.”
Si-eun rolled his eyes but didn’t speed up. “That’s dangerously close to being sincere.”
Su-ho gave a small laugh. “It’s a line. But it’s true.”
They passed a bakery closing for the evening, warm bread scent lingering. Si-eun kept walking.
“You’re not exactly subtle,” he said.
“Never claimed to be.”
“You keep trying. These lines. Even though I don’t react the way you want.”
Su-ho glanced over. “I get more reaction than you think.”
Si-eun didn’t answer.
They reached a bridge overlooking the stream, the light from the city casting golden ripples across the water. Su-ho hopped up to sit on the edge, feet dangling.
“Why do you keep doing it?” Si-eun asked, voice quieter now.
“The lines?”
“Everything.”
Su-ho looked up at the darkening sky. “Because you listen. Even when you pretend not to.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
Si-eun stepped closer. Su-ho could feel the warmth radiating off him.
“Some of them are truly awful,” Si-eun said.
“I know.”
“And some are just… confusing.”
“Those are the best ones.”
They stood like that for a while, side by side, the cool breeze brushing past.
“I like this,” Si-eun said suddenly.
Su-ho blinked. “Like what?”
“This. Talking. Walking.”
“You mean… me?”
A pause. Then:
“Maybe.”
Su-ho smiled.
“Then maybe I’ll stop with the lines.”
“Don’t.”
“Huh?”
Si-eun’s gaze didn’t waver. “They’re stupid. But… I’ve gotten used to them.”
Su-ho’s heart skipped.
“I’ll make the next one extra stupid just for you.”
Si-eun didn’t answer. But when they walked away from the bridge, their shoulders touched. And stayed that way.
5th Time: The Eiffel Line
They were waiting outside the convenience store, having been kicked out by Hu-min and Jun-tae who insisted on picking the best cup ramyeon without Su-ho’s dramatic commentary. The streetlights buzzed faintly, casting a soft yellow glow as Su-ho leaned against the wall, sipping banana milk. Si-eun stood beside him, arms folded, looking as unreadable as ever.
Su-ho bumped shoulders with him. “You cold?”
“No.”
“You look cold.”
“I’m not.”
“I can warm you up—with the power of my love,” Su-ho said, winking.
Si-eun turned his head slowly. “Please never say that again.”
“Okay, okay. I have a better one.”
“Oh no.”
“Are you French?” Su-ho asked, flashing a grin.
“…No?”
“Because Eiffel for you.”
Si-eun stared.
Su-ho waited.
“…You’ve officially gone international with these,” Si-eun said dryly.
“I’m expanding. Global reach.”
“Your cringe knows no borders.”
Su-ho laughed. “You know, you used to tell me to stop.”
“I still want to.”
“But you don’t.”
Silence.
Then: “It’s less annoying than it used to be.”
Su-ho’s heart did a weird flip. “Is that... approval?”
“No.”
“Is it affection disguised as irritation?”
“No.”
“I’ll take it anyway.”
Hu-min came out with Jun-tae, who was still arguing about whether spicy cheese flavor was superior. “You two good?” Hu-min asked.
“We’re international now,” Su-ho said proudly.
Si-eun exhaled slowly. “Why do I tolerate this?”
“Because,” Su-ho said, nudging him again, “you Eiffel for me too.”
+1 Time: The Confession
The rooftop was quiet again, dusk melting into night. The air had that early summer crispness, the kind that felt like something was about to change.
Su-ho had just finished recounting a failed attempt at using a pickup line on a girl in middle school. Si-eun didn’t laugh, but the small shake of his head and the way he leaned slightly closer were enough.
“I think I’m out,” Su-ho said finally.
“Out of what?”
“Pickup lines.”
“Thank God.”
“I mean—I could reuse one. Maybe the one about the book again?”
“You’ve used that twice.”
“Okay, then maybe—wait.” Su-ho turned, eyes squinting. “You remembered it.”
Si-eun went quiet.
“You remember all of them, don’t you?”
“…Unfortunately.”
“Si-eun.” Su-ho straightened. “You do like them.”
“No, I—”
“You remember them. You tolerate them. That’s as close to affection as I’m getting from you unless I’m dying.”
Si-eun sighed, looking out over the school grounds below.
“They’re stupid,” he said quietly. “But they’re yours. And they make me…” He hesitated. “Think of you. All the time.”
Su-ho stared.
“I think I fell for you somewhere between the copper and the triangle.”
“Wait—what?”
“I’m saying,” Si-eun said, cheeks tinged pink, “they worked.”
Su-ho blinked once. Then twice.
“I—so you’re saying—?”
Si-eun stepped forward and kissed him.
It was soft. Short. Real.
When they pulled apart, Su-ho was grinning so wide it hurt.
“I’m going to make up twenty more just to celebrate.”
“You do,” Si-eun said, “and I’ll throw you off this roof.”
Worth it, Su-ho thought, and kissed him again.