The next morning, sunlight spilled through the blinds, scattering golden threads across Ohm's desk. He didn't notice. His mind was still tethered to the storm of yesterday—the storm in the lecture hall, in the rain, in the subtle brush of Nanon's shoulder.
"Why does he linger in my thoughts?" he muttered, the words bitter and impossible. I don't… care. I shouldn't.
Yet the universe seemed to delight in cruelty. The professor's announcement from yesterday echoed again, sharper this time: "You two will also be working together for the club's upcoming showcase. Full cooperation required."
Ohm's chest constricted. Full cooperation. Two words that promised nothing but tension, chaos, and perhaps—horrifyingly—moments he wasn't ready to face.
Nanon, seated across the room with that infuriatingly calm expression, grinned when he saw Ohm's stiff posture. "Good morning, broody. Ready to lose gracefully again?"
"Oh, trust me," Ohm hissed under his breath, I won't. But his pulse betrayed him, quickening at the sound of Nanon's voice, warm and teasing.
They were forced into the same workspace that afternoon: a cramped, cluttered corner of the library, tables pushed together, project materials strewn across worn surfaces. The air was thick—not with dust, but with the invisible charge of rivalry, curiosity, and something neither wanted to admit.
Nanon leaned forward, elbow brushing against Ohm's. Ohm stiffened, heart stuttering. "Careful," he muttered. "I might bite."
"I'd like to see you try," Nanon replied smoothly, eyes sparkling, lips curling in mischief.
Hours passed in a flurry of bickering. Topic selection became a battlefield. Methods of research, the division of labor, even the order of sentences in their draft were contested with the precision of generals at war. Yet beneath the sarcasm, the sparks, the teasing, lingered an unspoken acknowledgment—an awareness of each other that cut deeper than either cared to admit.
When Nanon stretched, his hand grazed Ohm's across the table. Both froze. Ohm's mind raced: Why does a brush of his hand make my chest feel like it's on fire?
Nanon's heart did something absurd, skipping a beat he didn't want to name. He's infuriating… but why does it feel like warmth?
Breaks were spent in awkward silence, yet the proximity forced them into small, intimate exchanges. A shared notebook, a hand reaching over to adjust a misplaced sheet of paper, an accidental lean that left shoulders brushing. Each moment, though mundane to the outside world, was a storm of sensation internally.
"You know," Nanon said softly one time, leaning closer than necessary, "you're not as unbearable as you think you are."
Ohm froze, searching for a retort, and found none. Because beneath the irritation, the sarcasm, the carefully constructed walls, there was something else—a flicker, a flutter, a truth he refused to voice.
"Don't think about it," he told himself. I don't… feel anything. Not for him.
And yet, when Nanon laughed at a joke Ohm hadn't even intended to be funny, warmth bloomed in his chest, confusing and undeniable.
By evening, the library's dim lights cast long shadows across their table. A sudden gust rattled the windows. Ohm looked up, startled, and met Nanon's eyes. There was a softness there, a pause in the usual teasing. For a heartbeat, the rivalry melted, leaving only the fragile awareness of proximity, of closeness, of possibilities unspoken.
The bell signaling the end of library hours rang, abrupt and jarring. They packed their materials silently, moving as if the other's space was too dangerous, too tempting. Outside, the wind picked up, tugging at hair and coats alike.
"Oh, guess we're stuck walking together," Nanon said, voice playful, as he opened his umbrella. The smile was infuriating, radiant, and impossible to ignore.
Ohm sighed, cheeks heating as he stepped under the umbrella. Shoulder brushed shoulder, bodies close enough to feel heat, and both hearts thudded in rhythms they refused to name.
"Being just friends might be harder than I thought," Ohm admitted to the sky.
"And I really hate that feeling," Nanon thought, leaning slightly closer, not daring to speak it aloud.
Rain fell in soft percussion around them, echoing the storm of unspoken emotions, teasing, and tension that neither would yet claim. And in that quiet, soaked world, their rivalry felt strangely… intimate.