Chapter Text
The library was supposed to be a sanctuary. It was the one place in the building where the squeak of sneakers on hardwood and the roar of the bleachers couldn't reach.
Jungwon adjusted his glasses, leaning further into his textbook until his nose was inches away from a particularly stubborn calculus equation. He felt safe. He felt productive.
Then, the chair across from him scraped against the floor.
Jungwon didn't need to look up to know who it was. He could smell the faint, expensive scent of citrus cologne and laundry detergent that seemed to follow Lee Heeseung everywhere. He also heard the heavy thud of a letterman jacket being draped over the back of the chair.
"You're squinting, Jungwonie," Heeseung’s voice was low, vibrating through the mahogany table. "You’ll get a headache."
Jungwon finally looked up, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights. Heeseung was leaning back, arms crossed, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who was supposed to be at practice. A stray lock of dark hair fell over his forehead, and his eyes were fixed on Jungwon with a warmth that felt... dangerous.
"I'm fine, Heeseung-ssi," Jungwon said, his voice clipped and professional. "Don't you have a game to prepare for?"
"I have a date to prepare for," Heeseung corrected him, a small, hopeful smirk playing on his lips. "If a certain someone would finally say yes to those tickets I have for the planetarium this weekend."
Jungwon’s heart did a traitorous little flip, but he squashed it instantly. He knew how this script went. The popular guy targets the quiet kid, lures him out into the open, and then—bam—the punchline drops. He wasn't going to be the punchline. Not today.
"I'm sure Sunghoon or Jay would love to go," Jungwon replied, turning back to his notes. "They actually appreciate astronomy. Or, you know, being seen in public with you."
"Jungwon," Heeseung sighed, his tone dropping an octave. He reached out, his fingers ghosting over the edge of Jungwon’s notebook. "I’m not asking Sunghoon. I’m asking you."
Jungwon bit the inside of his cheek. Heeseung was a top-tier actor, he’d give him that. The sincerity in his eyes was almost believable. But Lee Heeseung deserved a cheerleader, or a star student with a social life, or someone who didn't spend their weekends organizing flashcards. He deserved someone who actually fit into his world.
"The answer is still no, Heeseung-ssi," Jungwon whispered, the words tasting like ash. "Go find someone who’s actually on your level."
He didn't stay to see the way Heeseung’s smile finally, painfully, flickered and died.
Heeseung wasn’t a quitter. You don’t become the captain of a varsity team by folding the moment the defense gets tight, and Jungwon’s defenses were the most sophisticated he’d ever encountered.
The following Tuesday, Jungwon was in the chemistry lab, meticulously cleaning beakers. The room smelled of sulfur and floor wax, a scent Jungwon found grounding. It was predictable. Unlike the way his pulse spiked when the lab door creaked open.
Heeseung didn't walk in with his usual athletic swagger. He looked... frazzled. His hair was a mess, his tie was loose, and he was clutching a very worn-out paperback book like it was a lifeline.
"I have a question," Heeseung announced, leaning against the lab bench.
Jungwon didn't look up from his glassware. "The basketball court is in the other wing, Heeseung-ssi. I think you're lost."
"It’s a chemistry question," Heeseung countered. He slid the book across the tiled surface. It was a copy of The Disappearing Spoon. "Is it true that gallium melts in your hand because of the specific heat capacity of human skin, or is it just the melting point being exceptionally low?"
Jungwon paused, a test tube halfway to the rack. He finally looked up, eyes narrowing behind his frames. "You’re reading Sam Kean?"
"I'm trying to," Heeseung admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Page forty-two was a bit of a struggle, but I think I’m getting the gist. Though, I’d probably understand it better if someone smart explained the thermodynamics to me. Over coffee. Or tea. Or whatever you drink to keep that giant brain of yours running."
Jungwon felt that familiar, heavy weight in his chest. It was a mix of fluttering hope and cold, hard cynicism. He’s trying too hard, Jungwon thought. Someone told him I like science, so he went to the library and grabbed the first thing he saw. It’s just another layer of the joke.
"You don't have to do this," Jungwon said softly, his voice losing its sharp edge and replacing it with something closer to exhaustion.
Heeseung straightened up, his playful expression faltering. "Do what?"
"Pretend to care about transition metals. Pretend to want to spend two hours talking about thermodynamics with me." Jungwon set the beaker down with a decisive clink. "I know I’m the 'project' or the 'dare' for the month, but you can tell the guys you won. I'll even sign a note saying you tried. Just... stop."
The silence that followed was thick. Heeseung didn't laugh. He didn't walk away. Instead, he stepped into Jungwon’s personal space—not to intimidate, but to be seen.
"Jungwon," Heeseung said, and for the first time, the 'Golden Boy' mask was completely gone. He sounded frustrated, almost hurt. "I don't have a 'project.' I have a crush. A really big, really inconvenient one on a guy who thinks so little of himself that he can't see I've been tripping over my own feet for three months trying to get his attention."
Jungwon frozen. "That’s not... you’re Lee Heeseung."
"And you're Yang Jungwon," Heeseung stepped closer, the smell of citrus hitting Jungwon again, but this time it felt like an invitation rather than a warning. "And I’m starting to think the only way you’ll believe me is if I actually pass this chemistry midterm. So, are you going to help me study, or are you going to keep telling me I deserve someone 'better' while I'm standing right here telling you that there isn't anyone better?"
Jungwon looked at the book, then at Heeseung’s desperate, honest eyes. For a split second, the logic failed him.
The atmosphere in the chemistry lab was still thick with Heeseung’s confession when the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the day. Jungwon watched him leave—book in hand, a lingering, hopeful glance thrown over his shoulder—and felt like his entire worldview had just been shaken by a 7.0 magnitude earthquake.
He found Sunoo by the lockers. Sunoo was his best friend, his sounding board, and usually the only person who could decipher Jungwon’s panicked internal monologues.
"He asked again," Jungwon whispered, leaning his forehead against the cool metal of his locker. "Heeseung-ssi. He said... he said he has a crush on me. He bought a chemistry book, Sunoo. He looked so serious."
Sunoo, who had been reapplying a layer of tinted lip balm, stopped mid-swipe. His expression didn't soften into the "I told you so" smile Jungwon expected. Instead, his eyes went cold, a sharp contrast to his usually bright demeanor.
"A crush? On you?" Sunoo laughed, but the sound was brittle, lacking any real warmth. "Jungwonie, let’s be realistic for a second. Look at him. Then look at... well, the situation."
Jungwon flinched. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, Lee Heeseung is the sun," Sunoo said, snapping his locker shut with a loud bang that made a few nearby students jump. "He’s bright, he’s popular, and he has everyone in this school falling over themselves to get a glance from him. Why would he settle for someone who hides in the library and spends their lunch hour doing extra credit? It doesn't make sense."
"He said he liked that I was smart," Jungwon mumbled, his newfound confidence beginning to wither under Sunoo’s gaze.
"He’s a jock, Jungwon. He’s bored," Sunoo stepped closer, his voice dropping to a hiss. "He’s probably just looking for a tutor he can string along for a few weeks until finals are over. Or worse, it’s a bet with Jay and the others. You really think you’re his type? You’re not even in the same atmosphere."
Sunoo’s grip tightened on his backpack straps. His chest ached with a secret he hadn't shared: he’d spent the last year perfecting his look, joining the right clubs, and positioning himself in Heeseung’s orbit, all for a crumb of the attention Jungwon was currently trying to throw away.
"If he actually wanted someone," Sunoo continued, his voice trembling with a hint of bitterness, "he’d want someone who can actually keep up with him. Someone who matches his energy. Not someone he has to... pity."
Jungwon felt a hollow ache settle in his stomach. The logic he’d used to protect himself earlier was now being fed back to him by the person he trusted most.
"You're right," Jungwon said, his voice barely audible. "I don't know what I was thinking. It was probably just a joke that went too far."
Sunoo relaxed, a tiny, satisfied smirk touching his lips as he tucked a stray hair behind Jungwon’s ear. "Exactly. I’m just looking out for you, Wonnie. I don't want to see you get humiliated when he inevitably gets bored and moves on to someone... better."
As Sunoo walked away, waving a cheerful goodbye to a group of cheerleaders, Jungwon stayed frozen by his locker. He looked down at his hands, which were still faintly trembling. He wanted to believe Heeseung—he really did—but Sunoo was his friend. And friends didn't lie about things like this.
Did they?