Chapter Text
The lights of the University Library hummed with a low, electric buzz that usually helped Steven Kim focus. He was a Law student; focus was his entire brand. He was the guy who could cite precedents in his sleep and argue a traffic ticket into a formal apology from the city.
But today, the hum of the lights was being drowned out by the rhythmic, expensive-sounding clack-clack-clack of someone walking down the aisle toward his favorite corner table.
He didn’t need to look up to know who it was, because the air in the room usually shifted when Zhang Shuaibo walked in. It got a little colder, a little more pressurized, and smelled faintly of high-end bergamot and the kind of laundry detergent that costs more than Steven’s textbooks.
Shuaibo didn’t just sit down; he occupied the space. He dropped a stack of fashion lookbooks and a sleek tablet onto the table right across from Steven’s dense constitutional Law tome.
“You’re in my light,” Shuaibo said. His voice was smooth, cool, and carried that signature edge that made most underclassmen scramble to apologize.
Steven didnʼt move.
He didnʼt even lift his pen from the yellow legal pad where he was scribbling notes. “The sun moves, Shuaibo. It’s called planetary rotation. Maybe if you spent less time staring at mood boards and more time in a science elective, you’d understand how shadows work.”
Shuaibo let out a soft, sharp huff of air—the kind of sound that usually signaled the start of a ten-minute bickering session.
He pulled out a chair, the metal screeching against the floor, and sat down with the grace of a cat. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm, his sharp, model-perfect features highlighted by the afternoon sun.
“My mood boards pay for my tuition, Kim. Your law books just give you a headache and a personality transplant,” Shuaibo retorted, his eyes narrowed.
To any passerby... and there were many, considering this was the most popular study spot on campus... this was a classic sighting.
Steven Kim and Zhang Shuaibo, the two most likely to succeed but least likely to ever get along students, were at it again.
On the surface, it made sense. Steven was the hardworking scholarship kid, a leader in the debate club, and someone who lived in hoodies and jeans. While Shuaibo was a rising star in the modeling world, a design major with a face that looked like it was carved from marble, and a wardrobe that made the campus sidewalk look like a runway in Milan.
They had been rivals since freshman year when they both tried to claim the same locker in the arts-and-sciences building.
“Hey, guys!”
The tension was broken by Woongki, who slid into the seat next to Steven, followed closely by JL and Jeongwoo. Woongki was the human equivalent of a sparkling energy drink, and he lived for the drama between the Law and Fashion departments.
“Argue quieter, please,” Woongki whispered, though his eyes were dancing with excitement. “Some of us are trying to pretend to study while actually looking at TikTok. Also, Steven, what is that on your neck?”
Steven froze. His pen skipped across the paper, leaving a long, jagged ink trail.
Shuaibo’s hand, which had been idly flipping through a magazine, stopped mid-air.
“What’s what?” Steven asked, his voice an octave higher than usual.
He reached up, his fingers instinctively finding the spot just under his jawline... a spot that had been very thoroughly occupied by Shuaibo’s teeth just six hours ago in the back of a parked car.
“That purple mark,” JL said, leaning in with a squint. “Is that… a hickey?”
The table went silent and Jeongwoo looked up from his laptop, looking concerned. “Did you get into a fight, Steven? That looks like a bruise. Did someone grab you?”
Shuaibo cleared his throat, his expression returning to its icy, detached mask.
“It looks like a skin infection,” he said flatly, not looking at Steven. “Probably from those dusty law archives. You really should practice better hygiene.”
Steven felt the heat rush to his face, but it wasnʼt just embarrassment—it was the thrill of the lie.
“It’s a chemical burn!” he blurted out. “I was… helping Han in the chemistry lab. A beaker shattered, it was a whole thing. Acids and bases, you know? High-risk stuff.”
Woongki made a face of pure pity. “Gosh, Steven, you’re such a nerd. Getting injured in a lab you don’t even belong in? Typical. I told you that you and Shuaibo are the same—you’re both so obsessed with being the best that you’re going to end up in the hospital.”
“As if,” Shuaibo muttered, finally looking at Steven. His eyes flickered down to the mark for a split second, a tiny, mischievous smirk playing at the corner of his mouth that only Steven could see. “I would never be caught dead in a lab. And I certainly wouldn’t be caught dead near Steven Kim.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Steven snapped back, though under the table, his foot found Shuaibo’s and stayed there, pressed firmly against his expensive leather boot.
“See?” JL whispered to Jeongwoo. “They can’t even go five minutes without insulting each other. It’s a miracle they haven't physically fought yet.”
“They’re too professional for that,” Jeongwoo replied, nodding sagely. “They have reputations to uphold. It’s a respect-hate thing.”
When they went back to their own business, Steven and Shuaibo exchanged a look. It was a look that contained a thousand secrets... of shared dinners in hidden alleys, of late-night study sessions that turned into make-out sessions, and of the fact that they had been officially dating for twenty-two months.
But as Steven looked at his friends, he realized something disturbing. He had just told a blatant, ridiculous lie about a chemical burn to cover up a very obvious mark of affection, and they had believed it instantly. They didnʼt just believe it... they found the idea of him and Shuaibo being romantic so impossible that they preferred the idea of a lab explosion.
Steven caught Shuaibo’s eye again. He could see the same realization dawning on his boyfriend. Shuaibo’s brow furrowed, his pride clearly taking a hit.
Are we really that unconvincing? Shuaibo’s expression seemed to ask.
Steven smirked and mouthed, Challenge accepted.
Stevenʼs Point of View
To be fair, I blame the lockers.
Most people think my rivalry with Zhang Shuaibo started because of some deep-seated intellectual clash or a fundamental disagreement on the ethics of the fast-fashion industry versus the rigidity of the penal code.
Well, it makes for a good story and it fits the Law vs. Art narrative that the rest of the guys love to gossip about over cheap cafeteria coffee.
But the truth is much pettier, and it was still clear to me, it was freshman year, and the Arts-and-Sciences building... a gray, confusing labyrinth of a place, well l had a shortage of lockers.
I had been assigned Locker 402, I arrived with my heavy-duty padlock and a stack of introductory textbooks that were already threatening to give me a permanent slouch.
When I got there, someone was already leaning against it.
He was wearing a sheer, silk-button down that definitely wasn't campus-appropriate for a Monday morning, and he was staring at his phone with an expression of such profound boredom that I thought he might actually be a statue. He was tall.. yeah annoyingly tall with limbs that seemed to go on forever and a frame so lean he looked like he could be folded into a suitcase.
“Excuse me,” I had said, trying to be polite. “You’re blocking 402.”
He didn’t even look up at first. He just sighed, a long, dramatic sound that seemed to drain the oxygen from the hallway. “They gave me this locker. Go find another one.”
“I have the slip,” I countered, pulling out the crumpled piece of paper. “Locker 402. Steven Kim.”
Finally, he looked at me. His eyes were sharp, feline, and rimmed with just enough attitude to make my blood pressure spike. He looked me up and down... from my sensible sneakers to my generic hoodie and curled his lip.
“I’m Zhang Shuaibo. I don’t do that kind of slips. And I definitely donʼt do sharing.”
That was the moment. Looking back, I should have just gone to the registrar. I should have been the mature Law student I was training to be. But something about the way he said his own name, like it was a title I should be bowing to, made me snap.
So, I didnʼt go to the registrar instead I spent the next twenty minutes arguing with him until a campus security guard had to intervene.
We ended up having to share the locker for the entire semester.
It was a nightmare of logistics if you asks me. My bulky law binders would constantly crush his delicate design sketches. His expensive colognes would seep into the pages of my torts and damages notes.
We’d meet at the locker twice a day just to exchange insults and shove each other’s belongings to the side.
“You smell like highlighters and despair,” he’d sneer, daintily moving my gym bag with the tip of one finger.
“And you look like you’re dressed for a funeral in the year 2077,” I’d shoot back, grinning when I saw his eye twitch.
That was how it started... a cycle of bickering that became the highlight of my day. Law school is a grind, it’s a relentless marathon of memorizing statutes, analyzing dry cases from the 1920s, and trying to stay awake while a professor drones on about maritime law.
It’s exhausting really.
But Shuaibo? Shuaibo was colorful, he was high-definition.
Testing his patience became my primary stress reliever. I realized early on that beneath his title ice prince exterior, Shuaibo was incredibly easy to wind up. All I had to do was question his color theory or suggest that his favorite designer was a bit basic, and he would launch into a passionate, sharp-tongued defense that made his eyes sparkle.
He was at his most beautiful when he was angry with me. It’s a terrible thing to admit, but it’s true. When his cheeks would flush that light shade of pink and he’d start gesturing with those long, graceful fingers, I’d find myself completely forgetting whatever legal precedent I was supposed to be reciting in my head.
I loved the way he reacted to my teasing. I’d lean into his space... using the fact that I was broader, more solid, even if he had the height advantage and watch him try to maintain his composure. I’d catch him looking at my arms when I rolled up my sleeves to study, and I’d purposefully flex just a little, enjoying the way he’d immediately look away and pretend to be fascinated by a piece of lint on his shoulder.
Not until from I want to annoy this guy until he leaves the country to I want to kiss this guy until he forgets his own name happened slowly, then all at once.
It was a rainy Wednesday during sophomore year. We were stuck in that same hallway by the locker. He was stressed about a runway show he was walking in, and I was stressed about a mock trial. We started arguing about whose stress was more valid.
“I have to walk in six-inch heels on a glass floor, Steven! If I fall, my career is over before it starts!” he yelled, slamming the locker door.
“And if I mess up this closing argument, I lose my scholarship! Careers can be rebuilt, Shuaibo, but debt is forever!”
He stepped closer, his chest nearly touching mine. He was really fucking taller, looking down at me with those piercing eyes, but I didnʼt back an inch. I stood my ground, my hands gripping the straps of my backpack so hard my knuckles turned white.
“You are the most infuriating person I have ever met,” he hissed.
“Then stop talking to me,” I challenged, my voice dropping an octave.
“I can’t,” he whispered.
And then he kissed me... damn, you really got me there Zhang Shuaibo.
His kiss was sharp and desperate, a continuation of the argument by other means, and his lips were soft but his movements were aggressive, so when I wrapped my arms around his slim waist and pulled him flush against me, I felt him let out a shaky breath that sounded like surrender.
Since then, we’ve been a walking contradiction.
Twenty-two months of secret dates. Twenty-two months of him sneaking into my dorm room at 2 AM because he couldnʼt sleep which usually meant he wanted me to rub his back while he complained about his design professors.
Twenty-two months of me learning the difference between eggshell and cream because he refused to date someone who was colorblind to the nuances of life.
We kept the bickering, though. It was our armor. Our friends... Woongki, JL, Jeongwoo, Han, Juwon, and Chihen were so used to us being at each other’s throats that they never questioned why we were always in the same place at the same time.
In public, I’m the aggressive Law student and he’s the aloof Model. We keep our tongues sharp and our distance measured. I always call him princess to annoy him in front of the guys, and he calls me caveman to insult my gym routine. It’s a perfect system, and keeps our reputations intact.
But lately, that very said system is starting to feel like a joke that only the two of us are in on.
Back at the library table, I watched Shuaibo flip a page of his magazine with a little more force than necessary. He was still annoyed about the chemical burn excuse. I could tell by the way he was holding his jaw... tight and rigid.
I know, he hated that I made him sound like a safety hazard. He took pride in his image, and being associated with a messy lab accident was probably an insult to his aesthetic.
Under the table, I nudged his boot again.
He didnʼt look up, but he shifted his leg, trapping my foot between both of his. It was his small, hidden gesture of possession.
“Iʼm going to get a coffee,” Shuaibo announced suddenly, standing up. He didnʼt ask if anyone else wanted one and didnʼt look at me. “The air over here is getting too thick with the smell of old paper and desperation.”
“Buy me one!” Woongki called out, not looking up from his phone.
“No,” Shuaibo said flatly.
When he walked away, his stride long and confident, I found myself staring at his back. He was wearing a leather jacket today that hugged his shoulders perfectly. I knew exactly how that leather felt under my hands. I knew exactly how he sounded when he wasnʼt trying to be the ice prince everyone calls him.
“Man,”JL said, shaking his head as he watched Shuaibo disappear around the corner. “He really hates you, Steven. I donʼt know how you stand it.”
I looked down at my legal pad, at the jagged ink trail Iʼd made earlier. I felt a bubble of hysterical laughter rising in my throat.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice steady despite the chaos in my chest. “Itʼs a real struggle, JL. You have no idea.”
I looked over at Jeongwoo, who was nodding in sympathy. Then at Woongki, who was busy judging someoneʼs outfit on Instagram.
They really didnʼt see it, they only saw us snapping at each other for three years, and they concluded that we were destined to be enemies forever.
It was insulting, honestly. I was a top-tier Law student. My entire life was built on evidence, logic, and the burden of proof. And here I was, practically shouting the truth from the rooftops, and nobody was buying it.
I looked at the empty chair across from me. Shuaibo had left his tablet there. He knew I knew his passcode, and he also knew I’d probably look at it.
I felt a sudden, wicked urge to push them. To see just how much evidence it would take for them to realize that our rivalry was just a very long, very loud form of foreplay.
If they wanted a trial, I’d give them one. But first, I had to deal with my boyfriend. Because if Shuaibo was losing his mind over our friendsʼ stupidity, then I was going to have a very long night of apologizing ahead of me.
And as a future lawyer, I really did love a good negotiation.
Third Personʼs Point of View
The library felt significantly emptier the moment Shuaibo turned the corner. It wasn’t just that a person had left the room; it was as if the humidity had dropped and the lighting had lost its editorial glow.
Steven sat at the table, his pen hovering over his legal pad, feeling the phantom pressure of Shuaibo’s boots against his own. The silence at the table was heavy, broken only by the aggressive tapping of Woongki’s thumbs against his phone screen.
“I’m telling you,” Woongki muttered, finally breaking the quiet. “The day Shuaibo actually says something nice to Steven is the day the campus fountain starts flowing with iced Americanos. It’s just not in the laws of physics.”
JL looked up, resting his chin on his palm. “Did you see the way he looked at Steven’s neck? I thought he was going to call the health inspector. He looked genuinely offended that a chemical burn was sullying his immediate vicinity.”
Steven bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. He reached out and pulled Shuaibo’s tablet toward him.
It was a sleek, graphite-colored device, its screen pristine. To them, this looked like an act of petty theft... Steven Kim messing with his rivalʼs expensive electronics while he was away but in reality, Shuaibo had left it there as a digital leash, knowing Steven wouldnʼt be able to resist.
“You’re going to get caught,” Jeongwoo warned, his voice low and steady. “If he comes back and sees you touching his portfolio, he might actually file a restraining order this time.”
“Let him try,” Steven said, his voice brimming with a confidence the others mistook for arrogance. “I’m a Law student. I’ll represent myself and win on the grounds of he left it in my jurisdiction. Besides, someone needs to make sure his mood boards arenʼt just pictures of himself.”
Steven swiped the screen. Pattern: 1-2-1-2. Their first official date.
The tablet unlocked instantly, and Steven didnʼt go through the photos or the private messages cause he wasnʼt that reckless but he did open the notes app. At the very top was a folder titled The Caveman’s Grocery List. Below it was a new note, timestamped three minutes ago.
If you don’t fix the ‘chemical burn’ story by tonight, I’m changing the Netflix password. Also, buy the good almond milk on your way back. Not the store brand, my skin is breaking out just thinking about the cheap stuff. - S.
Steven felt a warmth spread through his chest that had nothing to do with the library’s heating system. He quickly typed a response underneath it.
Well, the chemical burn is a classic. It’s dramatic and science. It’s much better than telling them you have the self-control of a teething puppy. See you at 8. Wear the sweater I like alright? - K.
He locked the tablet and pushed it back to its exact original position, down to the millimeter.
“He’s been gone a long time for a coffee,” Han noted, walking over from the printer station with a stack of papers. “I saw him talking to some guy from the architecture department near the cafe. Some tall, athletic dude. Looked like they were hitting it off.”
Steven’s hand tightened around his pen, suddenly the wicked urge to push the boundary suddenly felt a lot more like a spike of possessive adrenaline.
He knew Shuaibo was a model; he knew people looked at him. Heck, people stared at him just for existing. But the mention of someone hitting it off with his boyfriend in the middle of a coffee run made Steven’s legal brain start formulating a cease-and-desist order.
“He’s probably just networking,” JL suggested, oblivious to the way Steven’s jaw had just set into a hard line. “Shuaibo is all about those connections. He wouldnʼt waste time on a nobody unless they had a high-quality portfolio.”
“Or a nice car,” Woongki added, laughing. “Remember when that guy from the basketball team tried to give him a ride and Shuaibo told him his interior scent was offensive to the senses?”
Steven stood up abruptly, shoving his books into his backpack. His movement was jarring, causing the table to shake.
“Whoa, where are you going?” Jeongwoo asked, surprised. “We still have two hours of study group left.”
“I just realized I have a… supplemental reading,” Steven lied, his voice tight. “And I need to check the chemistry lab. To make sure the acids are stored correctly.”
“You’re really dedicated to that lie, arenʼt you?” Woongki teased. “Better be careful, Steven. If you keep talking about labs, people might actually think you’re smart.”
Steven didnʼt answer. He swung his bag over his shoulder and headed toward the cafe. He told himself he wasnʼt jealous. He was a Law student; he dealt in facts and the fact was, Zhang Shuaibo belonged to him.
The cafe was a bustling mess of students and the smell of burnt espresso. It didnʼt take long to spot Shuaibo. He was leaning against the condiment stand, a cup of coffee in one hand, looking exactly like a high-fashion advertisement. Standing in front of him was indeed a tall, broad-shouldered guy who was laughing a little too loudly at something Shuaibo had said.
Steven approached them with a stride that screamed litigation.
“Shuaibo,” Steven called out, his voice cutting through the chatter.
Shuaibo didnʼt jump and didnʼt even look surprised. He slowly turned his head, his eyes cool and uninterested as they landed on Steven. “Oh. It’s the caveman. Did you get lost on your way back to the stone age?”
The guy Shuaibo was talking to Architect guy... looked Steven up and down, clearly unimpressed by the law books and the rumpled hoodie.
“Friend of yours?” he asked Shuaibo.
“An acquaintance,” Shuaibo said, taking a slow sip of his coffee. “He’s a Law student. They’re very loud and lack a sense of personal space.”
Steven stepped right into that space. He stood just a few inches from Shuaibo, close enough to smell the bergamot and the fresh coffee. He also looked at the Architecture guy and then back at Shuaibo.
“You left your tablet,” Steven said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pen he’d borrowed from Shuaibo’s desk weeks ago. It wasnʼt the tablet, but it was a message. “And you’re late for our… debate practice.”
“We don’t have practice until tomorrow,” Shuaibo countered, though his eyes were dancing with that familiar, mischievous spark.
“I moved it,” Steven said firmly. “New evidence came to light. We need to go over the… logistics of the case.”
The Architecture guy looked between them, sensing the sudden drop in temperature. “Anyway, Shuaibo, think about that project. I’ll text you the details.”
As soon as the guy walked away, Shuaibo’s mask didnʼt slip, but his posture relaxed just a fraction. “You’re possessive when you’re annoyed, Kim. It’s very un-professional of you.”
“And you’re a flirt when you’re bored,” Steven shot back, though he kept his voice low enough that no one else could hear. “What was that? Architecture? Please. He doesnʼt even know the difference between a load-bearing wall and a stylistic choice.”
“He has a very nice portfolio,” Shuaibo teased, taking another sip. “And he didnʼt try to tell people I gave him a chemical burn.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” Steven muttered, his eyes drifting to the way the cafe lights caught the sharp line of Shuaibo’s cheekbones.
“You’d better,” Shuaibo whispered, leaning in just close enough that his breath tickled Steven’s ear. “Starting with the almond milk, and don't you dare be late. If I have to wait more than five minutes, I’m letting Woongki set me up on that blind date he’s been talking about.”
Steven’s hand twitched, wanting nothing more than to grab Shuaibo’s waist and pull him away from the crowds and the coffee and the lies. But instead, he just scowled.
“Fine,” Steven said loudly, for the benefit of a passing classmate. “But if you bring up that mood board one more time, I’m suing for emotional distress!”
“See you in court, loser,” Shuaibo replied, turning on his heel and walking away without a second glance.
Steven stood there, watching him go, feeling the familiar mix of frustration and absolute adoration. He knew exactly what he was doing tonight. He was going to buy the most expensive almond milk in the city, and then he was going to spend several hours proving to Shuaibo exactly why no architect on campus could ever compete with a Law student who knew how to win an argument.
But as he walked out of the cafe, he saw Woongki and JL watching them from across the courtyard. They were whispering and shaking their heads.
“Look at them,” he heard Woongki say. “Even in the cafe. They can’t even buy a latte without starting a world war. I genuinely feel bad for whoever they eventually marry. Can you imagine the household? Just constant screaming about aesthetics and the law.”
Steven tucked his hands into his pockets and kept walking, a small, private smile playing on his lips.
If only they knew that the household theyʼre talking about wasnʼt full of screaming. It was actually full of quiet mornings, shared sweaters, and the kind of peace that only comes when you find the one person in the world who is worth the bickering.
But for now, the proof was still on him. And Steven Kim had never lost a case in his life.