θρ⋆+ ̊ “...what does that even mean?”

♪‧+ ̊ requested? Yes

୭ ̊. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗ any point of view, mla, unestablished relationship, sfw, best friends, fluff

Summary

In which Sieun has a quiet, smart but very brainrotted best friend who yaps his ear off with shit he doesn’t even understand, completely different from each other but still vibe.

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The library smells faintly of old paper and dust, with that soft hum of students and the occasional scrape of a chair across the wooden floor. Sunlight cuts through the tall windows in golden beams, catching dust motes that float lazily in the air. It’s quiet enough that your own breathing feels too loud, but not oppressive, more like the world has agreed to pause for a while. You slide into a chair next to Yeon Si Eun, who’s already there, notebook open, jacket pulled tight around him even though it’s warm. His dark brown hair falls across his forehead just so, and he doesn’t bother brushing it back. His pen scratches across the page with deliberate precision, completely absorbed in whatever problem he’s solving, as if the noise around him barely exists.

You flop into the chair beside him with all the subtlety of a tornado. “Okay, so I was thinking,” you start, whispering loudly enough to make anyone nearby glance over, “if I survive this exam purely on vibes and chaotic energy, statistically, am I actually winning at life?”

Si Eun doesn’t look up immediately. He pauses mid-stroke, pen frozen in the air, and finally turns his head ever so slightly toward you. His big brown eyes are calm, unamused, and soft in a way that makes it clear he’s observing, calculating, cataloging. “No,” he says simply.

You grin like he just solved the ultimate riddle of the universe. “Haters gonna hate.”

He doesn’t smile. Not even a twitch. He just resumes writing. “You didn’t study.”

You lean closer, conspiratorial. “That’s lowkenuinely crazy, I did study.”

Another pause. He exhales quietly, not enough for anyone else to notice. “...What does that even mean?”

“You wouldn’t get it,” you whisper, as if revealing some top-secret intel. “Chronically offline behavior.”

He doesn’t look up from his notes and speaks flatly. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Hey so it actually only has to make sense to me and I don’t feel like explaining it to anyone else.”

He glances at you again, a slow, measured look, like he’s trying to figure out whether you’re joking, insane, or some new species he hasn’t cataloged yet. Probably all three. Without another word, he slides his notebook slightly toward you, just enough so you can see the equations, the neat lines of logic that make your brain hurt to look at.

“Focus,” he says quietly, precise as ever. “You’re already behind.”

You snort. “Yes, emotional support genius, look at you making sure I survive education prison.”

“I’m not,” he replies flatly. But he doesn’t pull away.

You lean back and grin, tossing your hair over your shoulder. “You’re literally like a modern day Einstein. Highkey my best friend ever.”

He doesn’t respond, but the notebook stays there between you. He watches you sometimes, listens while you ramble nonsense about random shit he’s never even heard about, and somehow remembers details about you nobody else would. Softly. Quietly. Without making a big deal.

After a while, he adds, almost under his breath, “If you don’t understand something... ask.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Aww! Look at you caring.”

“I didn’t say that,” he says immediately. But he doesn’t take his eyes off his notes. You know him too well, this is his way of showing he got you.

You lean over your notebook and whisper conspiratorially, “Noted. Yeon Si Eun, mysterious academic genius, officially my suuuper nonchalant body guard.”

He pauses, pen hovering again. “I’m not a bodyguard.”

“But you are,” you whisper with a grin, actually starting to write something down for the first time since you’ve sat down beside him.

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