He always acts like he knows everything—and maybe he does, or maybe he just pretends really well. Stays up all night studying, ditches every hangout plan, and then has the audacity to show up the next morning with a perfectly straight face claiming, “I didn’t even study.” Sure thing, James. Sure.

Now, he’s flipping through his notes, distracted as ever, tapping a pen against the desk. “What chapter were we on again?” he wonders aloud, though you both know he already finished it twice. Classic James when you’re around.

You glance down, and that’s when you notice it—your name, written in neat cursive down the side of his arm, traced in highlighter ink. A soft laugh escapes you before you can stop it. Maybe James doesn’t know everything, but he sure knows how to make your heart skip a beat.

EDWARDS MARTIN

the ‘sarcastic’ nerd.

Martin is practically the top of the class—the golden boy everyone seems to adore. And maybe you would too, if he wasn’t such a know-it-all. Sure, he’s smart, but the way he acts like everyone else is beneath him makes your blood boil. He’s that infuriating ‘I didn’t even study’ type who still ends up getting full marks. Always with his earphones in, pretending to be too busy for small talk—but you know better. He’s not listening to music; it’s those boring science podcasts that put you to sleep in seconds. And somehow, that makes you even angrier.

So, you start competing with him. Studying harder, staying up late, determined to knock him off that first-place pedestal.

But when the teacher calls on you one day, you fumble—“I’m not sure.” The words stumble out before you can stop them. The teacher looks at you, confused since you always know the answer. From beside you, Martin leans over, voice low and smug. “You didn’t even try.”

Your glare could probably melt steel, but he doesn’t stop there. Of course not. He spends the rest of the period explaining the question you already understand—talking just to talk—while you try your best to ignore him. Subtle hints don’t work on him; he’s immune.

By the next class, you catch him staring. You ignore it, obviously, deciding he’s probably just practicing black magic or something equally dramatic to keep you from topping the next exam. Later, when you finally call him out on it, he just waves you off. “You were sitting in my line of sight.” Right. So he was staring at a wall, then? Because that’s exactly what you were sitting against.

KIM JUHOON

the ‘shy’ nerd.

Juhoon is weird—but he’s also weirdly good at math and coding. Always the first to finish, always the one everyone turns to for help. So when you ask him for a weekend study session, it’s not entirely about the exams coming up—you just want to spend more time with him. With how shy he already is, getting him to make a move feels impossible, and neither of you seem brave enough to address the feelings quietly buffering in the air.

When you show up, tiffin box in hand, his desk looks like a disaster zone—wires tangled with soldering tools, empty energy drink cans stacked like trophies. You’re in silent awe until you instinctively reach out to touch one of the half-built gadgets. “Don’t touch that—it’s delicate,” he blurts, quickly leaning forward to form a little barricade with his arms. But the moment he spots the tiffin, his tone softens, his ears turning pink.

He hesitates before digging in, taking small bites and savoring each one like it’s a full-course meal. And somewhere between your teasing and his quiet fidgeting, he ends up programming his little robot to say your name. The voice box crackles out the syllables, sweet and glitchy, and Juhoon immediately flusters, mumbling, “Didn’t do it for you though,” while the screen flashes ‘it’s a lie’ in bold letters.

He disappears into the bathroom soon after—probably to calm down—while you sit there biting back a grin, the tiny robot repeating your name again and again in the soft hum of the room.

EOM SEONGHYEON

the ‘sleepy’ need.

Seonghyeon was more known for his ability to fall asleep anywhere, anytime, than for his perfect grades. He’s always in those half-zipped hoodies, hair a mess, a pencil tucked behind his ear as he drifts off like the lecture couldn’t matter less. It never really bothered you—not because you were particularly patient, but because you’d never really spoken to him anyway.

That is, until one day, he ended up sleeping through the entire period. When the bell rang for lunch, you hesitated for a moment before quietly shrugging off your uniform jacket and draping it over him. The room was chilly, and you were warm enough—but something about seeing him there, fast asleep after being online in the class study group till past midnight, made it impossible not to. You could tell he’d been up late again, cutting into his sleep just for grades.

When he finally woke, he didn’t make a big deal out of it—just rubbed his eyes and glanced at you with that lazy calm of his. “Thanks. I was freezing,” he mumbles, already flipping open his notebook to catch up on what he missed.

You end up explaining the parts of the lecture he slept through—practically the only reason you even paid attention in that dull class—but halfway through, his focus fades. His head tilts into his palm, eyes half-lidded, watching you solve a problem like he’s fighting to stay awake but losing.

By the time you finish, he’s still there, half-conscious and blinking slow. And as ridiculous as it sounds, all you can think about is how someone like him—who studies all night and still manages to fall asleep mid-equation—will even make it home in one piece at this rate.

AHN KEONHO

the ‘accidental flirt’ nerd.

Keonho’s the kind of person who’d go out of his way to help you study—but somehow, every single thing that leaves his mouth sounds like a confession.

“And then you have to integrate it,” he explains, voice low and steady, eyes locked on yours like he’s afraid to blink. You’re trying so hard to focus, really—but how are you supposed to concentrate when those thin-rimmed glasses keep sliding down his nose? They don’t even fit him properly, yet he insists on wearing them, pushing them up with that same absentminded motion every time he starts thinking too hard. It’s distracting. Way too distracting.

“Do you get it?” he prompts again, and that gaze of his—so unshakably calm—makes you forget what numbers even are. Then, before you can gather your thoughts, he leans closer to adjust your grip on the pen. His fingers graze yours—warm, careful, deliberate.

“You were holding it wrong,” he remarks softly, like he didn’t just knock every coherent thought out of your head with a single touch.

Moments like this make you realize exactly why this nerdy classmate—the same one everyone once called a ‘loser’—has somehow become the reason your heart skips. It’s the way his voice lowers when he explains something, the way he gets so caught up in equations that he doesn’t notice you staring.

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