Anna
It's almost midnight when chemistry finally wins.
I stare at the equation on my notebook like it personally offended me. Variables blur together, arrows pointing nowhere useful, annotations crowding the margins like they might magically rearrange themselves into sense if I glare hard enough.
They don't.
I sigh and drop my pen, leaning back in my chair until it creaks in protest. The room is quiet except for the faint hum of the heater and the ticking clock on my wall. Each second passing like it's mocking me.
"This is stupid," I mutter.
I rub my eyes, then grab my phone, thumb hovering before I overthink it and scroll to Miss Masuza's contact. She's the one who insisted this project had to be perfect. So she can deal with a question at midnight.
The call connects after a few rings.
"Norris?" Miss sounds surprised but not annoyed. Impressive.
"I'm sorry for calling this late," I say quickly. "I'm stuck on the equilibrium part of the third problem. The constants aren't aligning no matter how I—"
She hums thoughtfully, cutting me off mid-spiral. "Ah. That one."
Of course.
"Kye Yon is working on the same project," she adds. "He called me earlier with the same issue."
I blink. "…He did?"
"Yes. You should talk to him. Tonight," she says, like this is the most obvious solution in the world. "You both need to finish it by tomorrow."
Before I can protest, the call ends.
I stare at my phone. Slowly. Carefully.
Like it might bite.
Kye Yon.
I haven't called him in… I don't even remember how long. We talk when we have to. We exchange
words like chess moves—precise, intentional, never unnecessary.
Calling him at midnight feels like crossing an invisible line.
My finger hovers over his name. I groan softly and let my head fall back against the chair.
"Great," I whisper. "Just great."
The universe likes to play with me.
I shut my eyes tightly, curse under my breath, and hit 'call' before I can change my mind.
The ringing stretches.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
My regret blooms fast and immediate.
He's not going to pick up. This was a bad idea. I should've—
The call connects.
My stomach drops.
"Amore," his voice says, low and calm, like he hasn't just answered a midnight call. He pauses. "Did you dream about me and decide to call at this tragic hour?"
I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts. "Don't flatter yourself. Miss Masuza told me to call you."
A soft huff of laughter. "Ah. Chemistry bringing people together again."
"I'm stuck," I admit. "And apparently so are you."
"Was," he corrects. "I figured it out ten minutes ago."
Of course he did. I never liked chemistry anyway.
"Face call," he adds casually. "It's easier to explain."
"What!?"
"What 'what'?" He says with a yawn which sounds rather forced than natural.
I hesitate. Just for a second— "…Fine," I sigh. "Though I'm not emotionally prepared for your expressions."
"Devastating," he says. "I'll try to survive."
I end the call and open my laptop, starting the video call before I can rethink it.
His face appears on the screen.
Hair slightly messy. Sleeves rolled up. Expression annoyingly awake. And… thin framed glasses on his face.
My breath hitches traitorously. He looks—awesome with those glasses.
I run a hand over my forehead in frustration. He's giving me more chills than the molecules.
Anna! Come to your senses! He's a devil, not some prince!
"Wow," he says mildly. "You look like chemistry personally attacked you. But still, a demoness with beauty as always."
"Shut up," I mutter. Pretending not to show the red creeping up my neck."Explain the equation."
We work.
For a while, it's just numbers and symbols and frustration. Then we argue over steps, curse the subject, accuse the textbook as a crime against humanity. He mocks my handwriting. I mock his smug pauses when he's right.
Somewhere between one correction and another, it stops feeling like work.
***
Two hours pass without permission.
Eventually, we both lean back in our chairs, exhausted.
"I hope the person who invented chemistry steps on a Lego," I say.
He smiles. "Repeatedly."
I glare at the screen. "You're enjoying this."
"Watching you lose patience? Always." His tilted smile turns into a grin. A deep dimple appears into his left cheek—which I hate to see.
I scoff. "You're unbearable."
"And yet," he says lightly, "you didn't hang up."
I open my mouth to snap back; then stop. Instead, I reach forward and end the call.
His face freezes mid-smirk. And then… Gone.
I stare at the blank screen for a second and laugh. A deep and free laughter echoes throughout my room.
A childish and satisfying feeling settles inside of me.
I shake my head and crawl into bed, pulling the blanket over myself like it'll smother the thought trying to form.
Why did that feel… easy?
"Don't," I groan to myself, burying my face into the pillow. "Absolutely not."
But the feeling lingers anyway—quiet, unfamiliar, inconvenient.
And sleep takes a little longer than it should.
***
The morning comes too fast.
Miss Masuza grips my wrist lightly but firmly and steers me straight out of the maths classroom, murmuring an apology to Mr. Choi that sounds suspiciously flustered. I don't bother looking back because Ariana's expression would only distract me.
The lab smells like chemicals and cold metal.
And of course, Kye Yon is already there.
He's standing by one of the worktables, sleeves rolled up again, gloved hands steady as he measures out a solution with irritating precision. His notebook lies open beside him, filled with neat
calculations.
I scoff inwardly.
Surely. He started without me.
"Good," Miss says briskly, clapping her hands once. "You're both here. Finish the equilibrium solution and start the compound reaction. I'll be back."
And just like that, she's gone. The door clicks shut. Silence settles in the room.
I walk over, peer down at his notebook, and frown instantly. "That's wrong."
He looks up slowly. "Excuse me?"
"You inverted the constant," I say, already reaching for the pen. "Here.. see? The pressure ratio shifts the equilibrium the other way."
I explain quickly, pointing, correcting, talking with my hands the way I always do when I'm certain.
Halfway through, I realize—
He's not looking at the notebook anymore. He's looking at me. Not distracted. Not curious. Just—Lost.
My brows frown.
I stop mid-sentence. "…Did you even hear a word I said?"
He blinks. Once. Like someone waking up abruptly. "Yes… No."
I clear my throat and step back. "We should make the solution."
He nods too fast. "Right. Yes. The solution."
We work together again. And complain again.
"This subject is evil," I mutter while adjusting the burner.
"Chemistry exists purely to humble smart people," he replies, shaking a flask.
"I'm reporting it for emotional damage."
He laughs. "Add physical damage too, amore. These gloves are criminal."
Despite myself, I laugh too.
Finally—finally—the solution stabilizes. The color settles into a clean, steady shade.
We grin at the same time. Then—
My elbow clips the edge of the table and two glass jars trip.
My stomach drops.
No way…
They hit the floor.
SHATTER.
The liquids mix. And for half a second, the world holds its breath. And—
"KYE—!"
He moves before the sound finishes leaving my mouth. His arms come around me from behind, hands gripping mine, spinning me around and pulling me into his chest. He turns his body fully, placing himself between me and the reaction as the blast erupts.
A deafening CRACK.
Heat and pressure erupts.
Glass explodes outward.
He ducks his head instinctively, face pressed into the side of my neck, shielding us both. The force knocks the air from my lungs and my hands tighten around his without permission.. without thought.
Smoke floods the lab.
Thick. Acrid. Blinding.
"Anna!" His voice cuts through it immediately, sharp with panic. "Are you okay?"
I'm frozen. My ears ring. My heart is trying to claw its way out of my chest.
"I—I'm fine," I manage. "I think. Are you—"
"I'm fine," he says, but he doesn't let go of me. Not yet.
Only when the smoke starts thinning does he pull back slightly. But still holding my hand. His eyes scan my face like he expects to find damages. His other hand floats upward, taking shaky moves to close the distance between it and my face. And before he could touch my face…
The door slams open.
"Oh my god! MY LAB!" Miss Masuza wails, rushing in. "Are you both alive?!"
"Yes!" we answer at the same time.
She looks at the mess. The scorch marks. The broken glasses.
"Who did this?" she demands.
My mouth opens instantly. "It was—"
"My fault," Kye Yon says calmly.
I whip my head toward him. "What?!"
He doesn't look at me. "I misjudged the compounds."
Miss Masuza stares between us, suspicion sharp in her eyes. Then she exhales sharply. "Both of you. Principal's office. Now."
She turns on her heel and walks out of the smoke filled lab.
***
I'm still staring at Kye Yon as we follow Miss toward the Principal's office.
"You didn't have to do that," I whisper.
He finally looks at me then.
"Yeah," he says quietly. "But I did."
And for the first time—
I don't know how to argue back.