Mark had never been particularly good at handling change. He liked the comfort of routines, the predictability of what came next. But the thing about change, especially the kind that came in the form of a boy with dark eyes and a too-pretty smile, was that it didn't ask for permission. It just happened.

It crept in through small, subtle moments. Like when they sat next to each other at lunch the next day, and Mark wasn't sure if it was the pizza or the way Haechan laughed at one of his dumb jokes that made him feel a little lighter. Or when they studied together again later that week, and for the first time, Mark noticed that Haechan didn't frown when he made a mistake. Instead, Haechan just glanced at him—eyes unreadable—before handing him a new pen like it was no big deal.

Like it was normal.

But it didn't feel normal. Not when Mark was doing everything in his power to ignore the way Haechan's shirt clung to his shoulders or how his voice sounded when he said things like, "You're actually kind of smart, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Mark had said, his voice coming out a little too smug, a little too quick. But it wasn't a lie. He was smart. He just didn't think Haechan would notice. Didn't think it would matter.

But it did.

And that was the problem. Mark wasn't sure where the lines were anymore. Was this friendship? Was this something more? Could he even ask without making it weird?

His phone buzzed on the table, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts. The screen lit up with a message from Haechan.

[Haechan]: Meet me at the library in 20. You're in charge of snacks this time.

Mark stared at the text for a moment, trying not to overthink it. It was just a study session. They'd done it plenty of times before. But his fingers hesitated over the reply, his mind racing. He finally typed back, his thumb moving faster than his thoughts.

[Mark]: you sure about the snacks? i'm not exactly known for my snack choices

[Haechan]: You're overthinking it. Just bring something.

Mark smiled at the response, but it felt a little too tight. He didn't know what was happening between them, and he definitely didn't know how to navigate it. He was used to control. To certainty.

This? This was a mess, and for once, he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

He showed up at the library with his heart pounding in his chest for absolutely no reason. When he pushed the door open, Haechan was already sitting at their usual table, looking way too comfortable. His glasses were pushed up, his sleeves rolled just enough to show off his forearms, and there was this casual air about him that made Mark feel weirdly out of place.

"Did you bring everything?" Haechan asked without looking up, his tone light but with a teasing edge that made Mark feel seen in the most annoying way.

Mark dropped the snacks onto the table, catching the briefest glint in Haechan's eyes before he went back to his notes. "Yeah, yeah," Mark muttered, flopping into his seat. "Chips, soda, the usual. You're impossible."

Haechan smirked, like it was some private joke between them. One that felt like it had been there forever—even if it hadn't.

"So," Haechan said, flipping through his papers, "how's the lab report coming along?"

Mark shrugged, trying to focus on the pages in front of him and not on how Haechan kept glancing his way like he was trying to read him like another textbook. "It's fine. I've got most of it done. Just need to—"

Haechan's leg brushed against his under the table.

It was light. Barely anything. But it froze Mark mid-sentence. His breath caught. He looked at Haechan, who was now very focused on his work, tapping his fingers against the table like nothing happened. His shoulders were stiff though, like he was holding something in.

They didn't talk about it. Didn't even look at each other directly. But the space between them felt like it shifted.

"Right," Mark said, clearing his throat and pretending to focus. His voice came out sharper than he meant. "Anyway. I just need to finish the conclusion. You already did that part, didn't you?"

"Yep," Haechan replied, but he didn't sound as sure as usual. "Just need to plug in some data and it's good to go."

"Cool," Mark said, but it came out cracked. He couldn't stop noticing how close they were. How the air felt heavier somehow. It was slow, creeping in with every look, every quiet second, every tiny thing left unsaid.

Then another brush. Haechan's knee against his again, a little firmer this time, like it wasn't an accident.

"Damn," Mark muttered, trying to play it off. "Your leg's like a heat source. Are you secretly a heater or something?"

Haechan turned to look at him, eyes unreadable but dark with something Mark didn't want to name yet. "Maybe I am. But I'm not sure you'd survive the temperature."

Mark blinked, thrown off by the weight in Haechan's voice. The words didn't even make sense. But the way he said it—low and a little too calm—sent a chill up his spine.

"I'm... pretty sure I'd survive," Mark said, and it came out like a challenge. His fingers tightened around his pencil. His heart was racing.

Haechan's lips curved into a half-smile. "We'll see about that."

It felt like the room was holding its breath. Mark couldn't tell if he was the only one on edge or if Haechan was just as messed up about this as he was. But one thing was clear. This was not normal. Not the way it used to be. And that scared the hell out of him.

"Can we just finish the report?" Mark asked, the words almost stuck in his throat. Everything felt too tight. Too loud inside his head.

Haechan didn't answer right away. He just kept looking at him, like he was still figuring something out.

Then, softer this time, like it wasn't meant to be said out loud, "You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

Mark felt his breath catch again. But he didn't back down. "Neither are you."

And that was it. The thing between them, whatever it was, sat there with them in the silence. Unnamed, but impossible to ignore. It was in the glances. The tension. The touches that lingered just a little too long.

So when Mark showed up the next day, heart annoyingly loud in his chest, he told himself it was just study. Just notes. Just the lab.

"You're early," Haechan said without looking up as Mark stepped into the room.

Mark raised a brow. "Says the guy who's probably been here for twenty minutes."

Haechan sat at the table, posture perfect, glasses slipping just low enough on his nose to suggest he'd been too focused to notice. When he finally looked up, his eyes did that thing again. That thing where they lingered too long. Where they softened for half a second like they'd forgotten who they were attached to.

Then he blinked, and the look was gone.

"You bring your notes?" he asked, voice even.

Mark held up his folder. "Always."

"Good." Haechan's mouth twitched into a smile. Barely. Just the corner, like it wanted to go further but didn't get clearance from HQ.

Mark sat down. Not across. Not diagonally. Right next to him like last time hadn't been weird, like their arms hadn't touched and turned their nervous systems into sparklers.

On the table sat a small bag of gummy bears and two bottles of green tea.

Mark squinted. "You brought snacks?"

Haechan shrugged, casual. "You're painfully predictable with the soda and chips. Thought I'd switch it up."

"Predictable?" Mark scoffed, tossing his folder down. "I have impeccable taste. And gummy bears? Really?"

"Better than your usual. Honestly, if you ever switched it up, I'd be bracing myself for olives or... I don't know. Fruit salad. Something cursed."

Mark laughed, leaning back. "I'm not that adventurous."

Haechan shot him a quick glance, eyes sharp but amused. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Mark said, grinning.

"I'm just trying to save you from embarrassment," Haechan muttered, tearing the gummy bears bag open like it owed him money.

Mark snagged one and popped it into his mouth, pretending not to notice how Haechan kept... existing like that. All sleeves-pushed-up forearms and faint detergent smell and completely unfair concentration face.

They worked in silence after that. The good kind. The heavy kind. Every time their knees brushed, neither of them moved. Every time Haechan's fingers drifted too close, Mark pretended not to notice. Except he noticed everything.

At one point, Haechan leaned forward to grab a page and his shoulder bumped against Mark's chest. Just barely. But enough.

Mark felt it everywhere.

"You okay?" he asked, softer than he meant.

Haechan didn't look up. "Fine."

"You keep doing this thing with your mouth," Mark said, gesturing vaguely.

Haechan blinked. "What thing?"

"That thing." Mark mimicked it—lips pursed, head tilted. "Like you're holding something in and it physically hurts."

"You're imagining things."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

Mark grinned. "You're so defensive."

Haechan's pen paused. "You're so annoying."

"And yet," Mark said, leaning in just slightly, "you like it."

"I really don't."

Mark smirked. "You like me."

Haechan turned red so fast it was almost impressive.

Mark hadn't meant to say it. Not like that. But it was out there now, sounding like a joke but feeling nothing like one.

"You're not as funny as you think you are," Haechan muttered, eyes locked on the page.

Mark bumped his shoulder. Just enough to make Haechan glance back.

"I don't think I'm funny," Mark said, quieter now. "I think you're just fun to mess with."

Haechan didn't answer right away. The pause stretched. Too long.

Finally, he said, voice low: "That's not a good idea."

Mark blinked. "What isn't?"

"Messing with me."

The way he said it knocked the air out of Mark like a sucker punch.

"I'm not really messing," Mark said, before his brain could intervene.

Haechan looked up then. Really looked. His eyes were wide. Open. A little scared, like he'd been caught off guard by something he didn't plan for.

They stared at each other. Long enough for it to become something.

Then Haechan cleared his throat, shattering it like glass. "You missed a decimal point," he said, tapping the page with fingers that shook just slightly.

The moment crumbled.

Mark blinked. "Oh. Right. Good catch."

They both went back to work. Neither spoke. But when Haechan handed him another sheet, their fingers brushed.

And this time, neither one pulled away.