Chapter Text
Minho grits his teeth, frustration boiling over as he glares at Jisung. “You’re a menace.”
“A hot one,” Jisung retorts playfully, sending a cheeky wink the elder’s way as he slouches beside him outside the principal’s office, waiting for their punishment to be decided.
Revulsion evident on his face, Minho simply looks at the younger student and grimaces. “You disgust me.”
Leaning back against the cold, hard bench, Jisung exhales dramatically. “I would’ve believed that statement if you hadn’t cockblocked me with jealousy fuming from your ears throughout the entire party last Friday.”
"Are you actually stupid?" Minho questions sincerely as he narrows his sight, turning sharply to face jisung. “I saved your catastrophically drunk ass from committing multiple mistakes. You are way in over your head if you think you were in any state to be giving out your consent like you did—or tried to.”
"Yeah, sure," Jisung nods in agreement, smirking while he looks at Minho with a hint of something more tender in his eyes. However there’s an impish edge to his tone that makes Minho’s blood boil. “But how does that concern you? You have on multiple occasions clearly expressed your hate for me, so why did you go around acting like a hero? The only reason I can think of is that you actually care about me.”
Opening his mouth to retort, Minho’s words die in his throat. He looks away, jaw clenched. The silence between them stretches, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. Jisung watches him, his spirited demeanour slipping for a moment, revealing a flicker of vulnerability.
“I don’t hate you,” Minho finally says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re just… You make everything so complicated. You’re reckless and loud, and you don’t think before you act.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “But that doesn’t mean I want to see you hurt.”
Surprised, Jisung’s eyes widen. “Minho…”
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Minho interrupts, his usual sharpness returning. “This isn’t some kind of confession. I just don’t want you to destroy yourself,” he says. “I want to do that myself when I surpass you in the next exam.”
For a moment, the noise of the bustling school outside the office fades, and it’s just the two of them, caught in the fragile balance of their complicated relationship. Jisung studies Minho’s face, his usual smirk replaced by something softer as he chuckles.
“Thanks,” he says quietly, genuineness in his voice. “For looking out for me in a way, I guess.”
Minho shrugs, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Just don’t make a habit of it.”
With a light laugh, Jisung’s eyes regain their joyful spark. “Can’t make any promises, princess. After all, what’s life without a little chaos?”
Delivering a resigned stare, Minho feels a small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, you’re still here,” Jisung replies, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Maybe you like the chaos.”
“Maybe,” Minho admits, and for the first time, there’s a hint of warmth in his gaze. “Maybe I do.”
As they sit together in the quiet hallway, waiting for whatever consequences destined for them, a newfound understanding blossoms between the duo. It's fragile, tentative, but it’s there—a small spark amidst the chaos.
The principal’s door creaks open, and a stern-looking woman steps out, clipboard in hand. “Lee Minho, Han Jisung, come in.”
The boys exchange glances, all traces of their previous camaraderie wiped away, replaced by their usual scowls. Minho rises first, his bandaged hand clenching into a fist and pain shoots through his wrist as a reminder of their earlier scuffle. Jisung follows, adjusting the bandage on his ear, the sting still fresh.
They sit side by side in the principal’s office, the tension between them palpable. Principal Kim fixes them with a hard stare before sitting down.
“I’m disappointed in both of you,” she begins, her voice frigid. “You are our two brightest students, yet you resort to physical violence over grades ?”
Minho’s jaw tightens, and he glares at Jisung out of the corner of his eye. “He was provoking me,” Minho mutters, the words escaping before he can stop them.
“Provoking you?” Jisung retorts, his voice rising. “You grabbed me first!”
“Enough!” Principal Kim’s voice cuts through their argument. “I don’t care who started it. This kind of behaviour is unacceptable. You’re supposed to be setting an example, not brawling like children.”
Both boys fall silent, chastened.
“You’ll both serve detention for the next two weeks,” Principal Kim continues. “After classes, you will report to Mr. Choi for campus clean-up duties that will require teamwork. And to ensure there are no further incidents, you’ll be sharing a dorm room for the remainder of the semester.”
Minho’s eyes widen in horror. “You’re making us roommates?”
Principal Kim nods firmly. “Yes. Perhaps spending more time together will help you learn to get along. You’re dismissed.”
Minho and Jisung leave the principal’s office, both fuming. The silence between them is thick and heavy as they walk through the bustling halls of their college, side by side, each refusing to give the other an inch.
“This is all your fault,” Minho groans, breaking the silence first. “If you hadn’t been waving your stupid grades in my face, none of this would’ve happened.”
Jisung scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Oh, please. You were just looking for an excuse to get physical. You’ve always hated that I’m better than you.”
“ Better than me ?” Minho’s voice rises, incredulous. “You’re delusional . You barely scraped by last semester.”
“At least I don’t resort to violence when things don’t go my way,” Jisung retorts, a vitriol edge to his tone. “Maybe if you spent less time being an arrogant prick and more time studying, you wouldn’t be so pissed off all the time.”
Minho’s fists clench, the pain from his injured hand forgotten as his face flushes with anger. “You’re unbelievable. You walk around like you own the place, rubbing your grades in everyone’s face. It’s pathetic.”
“ Pathetic ?” Jisung steps closer, his eyes blazing. “The only pathetic one here is you , Minho. Always so high and mighty, but deep down, you’re just scared someone’s going to be better than you.”
Minho’s jaw tightens, and he leans in, his tone a dangerous whisper. “Shut the fuck up, Jisung. You don’t know shit about me.”
“Oh, I know enough,” Jisung replies, dripping with disdain. “I know you’re a control freak who can’t stand it when things don’t go his way. And I know you’re scared. Scared that maybe, just maybe , you’re not as great as you think you are.”
“Fuck you,” Minho hisses, stepping back, the words cutting deeper than he intended.
“Gladly,” Jisung shoots back, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “But you’re not my type. Too much baggage.”
“Go to hell,” Minho retorts, turning away and quickening his pace. “I don’t need this shit.”
Following him, Jisung’s anger flares even hotter. “Oh, trust me, I don’t need this either. The last thing I want is to be stuck with you.”
“Then stay out of my way,” Minho snaps, heading towards their next class. “Do your stupid computer shit and leave me alone.”
“Fine by me,” Jisung mutters, falling back a step beside him. “I have better things to do than babysit a spoiled brat.”
Minho glares straight ahead, ignoring the stares from their classmates as they pass. “Just remember, this campus is only big enough for one ego, and I was here first.”
Jisung scoffs, the bitterness in his voice unmistakable. “Keep telling yourself that, Minho. Maybe one day you’ll actually believe it.”
The silence that follows is heavy and uncomfortable. Both boys march towards their respective classrooms, neither willing to back down. The tension between them crackles like electricity, drawing curious glances from their peers.
Chan, Jisung’s roommate– former roommate, sighs as he’d been walking behind the duo to get to his class as well.
“Here we go again.”
***
Hyunjin passes Minho another stack of perfectly folded clothes, his movements fluid and unbothered. It’s easy between them—familiar. Minho can almost forget why they’re doing this in the first place, almost. Until the weight of it crashes back in, and he groans, tossing a white t-shirt onto the bed in frustration.
“I can’t fucking believe she actually made us do this. Like, I didn’t even think that shit was legal,” Minho complains, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to wipe away the situation itself.
The taller boy glances over, one brow arched in mild amusement. “You really thought when the principal ordered you and Jisung to live in the same dorm to ‘work on your friendship,’ it was just some empty threat to make you behave?”
Minho grumbles under his breath, the annoyance obvious in his slouched shoulders. “I don’t know. I figured it was more for show. Didn’t think she’d actually go through with it.”
"Well, now I have to find a new roommate," Hyunjin hums happily, already pondering about his next victim.
Glaring at his friend half-heartedly, Minho folds another shirt with jerky movements. “Glad at least one of us is excited about this.”
“Aww, is someone pouting?” Hyunjin’s eyes glint mischievously as he tilts his head with a smirk. “It’s cute that you’re so genuinely stumped over this whole thing. Warms my heart, hyung.”
“Basking in my misery. How nice of you,” Minho mutters with a grimace, barely resisting the urge to throw a sock at his friend’s face.
“I know, right?” Hyunjin beams. “I should get an award for it, honestly.”
"You're repulsive," Minho mutters as he shakes his head.
“—ingly hot? Thanks, babe, I know,” Hyunjin quips with a dramatic wink, clearly enjoying himself far too much.
Staring at him with narrowed sight, Minho says, "Maybe it won't actually be so bad to live with Jisung."
"Oh, shut up. You love me," Hyunjin says, laughing.
"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Minho replies dryly although biting back a smile.
"Denial isn't just a river in Egypt, you know," Hyunjin says with a smirk.
"We're drifting from the original subject: me being mad that I have to move," Minho points out, folding another shirt.
"No, we're just visiting different websites with those emotions in mind," Hyunjin quips, earning a snort from his friend.
"I'm surprised your company hasn't already driven me to move out," Minho remarks, tossing a pair of socks into a duffel bag.
"You love my company," Hyunjin counters confidently.
"No, I was forced into it at a young age and now can't seem to stop," Minho says, shaking his head in mock despair.
"You sound like a drug addict," Hyunjin observes, amused.
"Yeah, that's pretty much it," Minho nods thoughtfully. "Except you aren't very addicting nor sought after in my daily routine. You just kind of... breathe around me?"
Hyunjin fakes a tear, waving his hands dramatically. "You're so hurtful sometimes."
"Always, babe," Minho winks with an amused grin.
Both of them laugh as they continue gathering Minho's things. Despite their rough crosstalk, they knew the lines they wouldn’t cross. Growing up together had forged a bond where no joke was taken to heart, and they knew there was no ill intent behind their words.
"Seriously though," Hyunjin says, folding a hoodie, "how do you feel about living with Jisung? Aside from the obvious bitching."
Sighing, Minho drops onto the bed. "I don't know. We’ve been at each other’s throats since day one. Now we’re supposed to... what, become friends?"
Hyunjin smirks. "Then just try putting a tongue down that throat instead.” He shrugs. “Would've worked on me if I were Jisung."
Minho rolls his eyes. "Yeah, sure, because the only thing better than listening to his constant gloating is making out with the smug idiot."
Hyunjin chuckles. "Sounds like someone's a bit jealous."
"Jealous? Of that pompous prick? Hardly," Minho scoffs. "He thinks he's so smart, always making those snide comments, waving his grades in my face. If he wasn't so damn annoying, maybe I could tolerate him."
"Either way, it’s going to be entertaining," Hyunjin grins.
A pillow sails through the air, Minho throwing it at Hyunjin, who ducks it with a laugh. “Okay okay, sorry, hyung.”
They resume packing, the atmosphere lighter despite the underlying tension of Minho’s impending move. As they finish, Hyunjin slings an arm around Minho’s shoulders.
"Look, just try to keep an open mind, okay? Who knows, you might actually end up liking the guy," Hyunjin suggests.
Minho snorts. "Doubtful."
"Stranger things, hyung. Stranger things," Hyunjin says with a heavy exhale.
With that, they finish packing, the quips flowing easily between them as they box up the last of Minho's things. Despite the looming uncertainty, Minho feels a tiny spark of curiosity– although not a happy curiosity– about what this forced cohabitation with Jisung might bring.
***
Jisung is in the midst of packing his things, assisted by his two roommates, Chan and Changbin. The room is a chaotic mess of clothes, textbooks, and random knick-knacks scattered everywhere as they work through the piles.
"Man, I still can't believe you're moving in with Minho," Chan remarks, folding one of Jisung's hoodies. "Never thought I'd see the day."
A snort escapes Changbin, holding up a pair of Jisung's socks. "It's like the universe has a fucked sense of humour."
Shaking his head in disbelief, Jisung shoves a stack of notebooks into a box. "Tell me about it. It's like some cosmic joke. I mean, of all people, Minho ?"
"Hey, at least it's not some random stranger," Chan points out, trying to find a silver lining.
"Yeah, but Minho ?" Jisung repeats, exasperated. "The guy's insufferable. Always acting like he's better than everyone else just because he's a year ahead."
Changbin laughs. "Sounds like someone's got a bit of a crush."
Jisung shoots him a glare. "In your dreams. If he would just shut his mouth, maybe he'd be halfway tolerable. Hell, he'd be pretty hot if he didn't talk so much."
Their oldest roommate chuckles, shaking his head. "So, you're saying Minho's good-looking but has a personality that's hard to swallow?"
"Exactly," Jisung mutters, shoving more clothes into a suitcase. "He's got that whole plump lips, big thighs, good facial features thing going for him, but then he opens his mouth and ruins it."
"Guess you'll have plenty of time to test that theory," Changbin teases, tossing a pair of sweatpants into a container. "Living together might be a good way to settle your differences."
"Or it'll end in murder," Jisung says flatly. "And I'm not sure who's more likely to end up dead."
"Come on, it won't be that bad," Chan says optimistically. "Maybe you'll find some common ground."
"Yeah, like mutual hatred," Jisung mutters, earning a laugh from his mates.
"Seriously though," Changbin says, pausing to look at Jisung. "How do you really feel about moving in with him? No jokes."
Jisung sighs, sitting down on his bed. "I don't know. We've been rivals since day one. Now we're supposed to... what, become friends? It feels weird."
"Then just try to see it as a new challenge," Chan suggests. "You're good at overcoming obstacles, right?"
"Or just put a sock in his mouth whenever he starts talking," Changbin jokes, making Jisung laugh despite himself.
"Yeah, maybe," Jisung exhales, feeling a bit lighter. "We'll see how it goes."
They continue packing, the conversation shifting to lighter topics.
“We’re still going out tonight, right?” Jisung inquires.
Chan hums. “I suppose that wouldn’t hurt. We can move your things over tomorrow morning instead.”
Changbin nods. “Yeah, I think it’s best if you’re a bit hungover on the first day, so you don’t feel as prone to fighting Minho.”
***
“Hi, welcome to Meow Café. What can I get for you today?” Minho greets, forcing a pleasant tone despite the inner turmoil he feels.
The small café buzzes with the quiet hum of conversations and the clinking of coffee cups. The door swings open with a cheerful jingle, announcing the arrival of a familiar face. Minho glances up from behind the counter and his face lights up with recognition.
“Good afternoon!” he calls out warmly. “The usual today?”
The elderly woman’s face brightens with a smile. “Yes, dear. A cappuccino, and could you add a bit more foam today?”
“Certainly,” he responds, starting on her order. “How’s everything at the pharmacy?”
“Oh, it’s steady,” she replies, settling into a seat at the counter. “But it could always use a little extra business.”
As Minho works on making her cappuccino, she leans in slightly, her tone taking on a more earnest note. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”
Curiosity piqued, he looks up from his task. “What’s on your mind?”
“Well,” she begins, “I have a son. He’s a very intelligent young man, and I believe he’d be a great match for you.”
Minho’s smile falters vaguely, but he maintains his composure. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m really focused on my studies right now. Not looking to start anything new.”
“Oh, I understand,” she says with a hint of persistence. “But you know, he’s quite brilliant. I think he could really help you out with your studies. It could be a win-win situation.”
He shakes his head with a polite smile. “I’m really not interested in dating anyone at the moment. My focus is entirely on my work and school.”
She looks at him with a determined glint in her eye. “Well, I’m not giving up that easily. One day, I’ll get you to go on a date with my son. Mark my words!”
Minho chuckles softly, shaking his head as he finishes making her cappuccino. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but let’s see what the future holds. For now, enjoy your coffee.”
As he hands her the cup, she takes it with a smile. “Thank you, Minho-yah. I’ll be sure to keep trying, though.”
With that, she leaves the café, the bell jingling behind her. Minho watches her go, a bemused smile on his face, before turning his attention back to the new pair of customers.
“Hi, welcome to Meow Café. What can I get for you today?”
“A large decaf latte, please,” the freckled customer requests.
Minho nods, pressing a few buttons on the register. Once he finishes, he looks up and asks, “Anything else?”
“A medium americano and two mochas, one cinnamon and one chocolate,” another voice chimes in.
Rolling his eyes, Minho complies, adding it to the order. “Why are you two even here, anyway?”
Jeongin shrugs nonchalantly. “Wanted to witness the great Minho falling apart.”
“Oh, so you heard,” Minho grumbles. He supposes that he's a little surprised as to how quickly word travels on campus, although it wouldn't be the first time. “And here I was thinking you cared about me.”
“We do,” Felix smiles, evil spirits dancing in his eyes. “But we must seize the opportunity to witness something so remarkable when we can!” He words dramatically.
Minho gives the customers an exaggerated sigh and turns around to start working on their order.
“Huh? We haven’t paid yet?” Felix raises an eyebrow, slightly tilting his head.
“It’s on the house.”
“Awww,” Jeongin teases. “How nice of you.”
“Go sit down before I change my mind.”
Felix and Jeongin both salute him. “Yessir,” they say in unison before walking off to take a seat across from each other at a nearby table.
While Minho makes their drinks, the two students engage in their own bubble of conversation.
“I’ll bet twenty dollars that they’ll have a physical fight on the second day,” Jeongin muses, a humorous glint dancing in his eyes.
Felix looks puzzled. “Why not the first day?”
Humming thoughtfully, Jeongin glances at his friend behind the counter. “I have a feeling they’ll both try to act nice at first, but their facade will probably fall apart faster than a joke at a funeral.”
“You seem experienced,” a voice from behind him comments as it settles down on the chair beside him.
“You’re late,” Felix retorts, watching Hyunjin sit down beside Jeongin and Seungmin beside him.
“And? It’s not like we’re preparing for the zombie apocalypse,” Seungmin says, unimpressed and laid-back.
“And what if we were?” Jeongin cocks an eyebrow.
“Then you’d have nothing to worry about. The zombies want brains, after all.”
“I hope you die,” Jeongin whispers, squinting his eyes, while Felix chuckles at their bickering.
“Second that,” Minho adds as he walks towards the table carrying a tray with his uninjured hand filled with the group's beverages.
They all give their small ‘ thank you 's' to their hyung and begin sipping on their drinks. It’s a quiet afternoon at the café. There are a few customers scattered about, but since there isn’t much of a rush, Seungmin the manager and Hyunjin, one of the few other baristas, can take the day off. Minho doesn’t mind the peace and quiet; he actually enjoys being able to work at his own pace without anyone else in the way.
“So? When are you moving in?” Felix asks, pulling up a chair for Minho to sit at the end of the table.
Minho nods an expression of gratitude and takes a seat. “Tomorrow morning,” he responds.
“Why not today?” Hyunjin asks. “I thought we packed up your last bag last night?”
The elder scoffs. “I didn’t know you wanted to get rid of me that bad.”
Hyunjin sends him a sheepish smile and tugs at his nape. “Seungmin is probably going to move in after you move out.”
“Ah, that explains the hurry,” Minho exhales, taking a sip of his iced americano. “Guess you guys are planning a wild welcome party for him?”
“More like a wild farewell party for you,” Seungmin jokes, earning a laugh from the table.
“Great, now I feel even more appreciated,” Minho says sarcastically, though a small smile plays on his lips.
“So, are you ready for the new roomie?” Jeongin asks, leaning forward with interest.
Minho snorts. “ Ready ? Hardly. Jisung’s a pain in the ass. He’s always got something to say, always has to be right. And don’t get me started on how he flaunts his grades. But the worst part is he’s infuriatingly hot. Like, who looks that good while being so damn annoying?”
“Oh?” Felix’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “So you think he’s hot?”
Minho groans, regretting his choice of words. “I mean, objectively, sure. But it doesn’t make him any less of a jerk.”
Not just objectively, but in every conceivable way—Jisung looks like he just stepped out of one of Minho’s wet dreams. Those doe eyes, his soft, smooth cheeks, and his black hair always perfectly styled—whether it’s neatly parted down the middle or casually swept to the side with a few strands brushing his eyes
“Aw, our Minho has a crush,” Jeongin teases, earning a sportive swat from the older boy.
“Shut up. Just because someone is attractive doesn’t mean I like them,” Minho grumbles.
Felix leans back in his chair, a smug look on his face. “So you admit he’s attractive.”
“Yes, fine! He’s attractive. But he’s also an arrogant, punchable dickhead,” Minho snaps, exasperated.
Seungmin chuckles. “This is going to be interesting. Two strong personalities in one cramped dorm. At least it’s a bit more luxurious than your last place.”
“Yeah,” Minho agrees, somewhat mollified. “Two small separate bedrooms, a shared living room, bathroom and kitchen space. It’s still cramped, but it’s an upgrade.”
Hyunjin grins. “Imagine the tension. You two, stuck in the same space, day in and day out. Sparks are bound to fly.”
Minho glares at him. “Not the kind of sparks you’re thinking of.”
Jeongin smirks. “Well, at least we’ll have front-row seats to the drama.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Minho says mockingly.
Felix pats his shoulder with pity. “We’re just looking out for you, Minho hyung. We know you’ll survive. Maybe even come out of it with a new perspective on Jisung.”
“Or maybe just more reasons to hate him,” Minho mutters, taking another sip of his drink.
***
The party’s neon lights flicker in sync with the pounding bass that reverberates through the walls. Jisung, now quite tipsy and buzzing from the night's excitement, finds himself locked in conversation with a girl he’s just met. Her name is Yuna, and there’s an easy chemistry between them, fueled by flirtatious glances and suggestive smiles. As they chat, the noise of the music seems to blur into a background hum, their mutual attraction taking centre stage.
After a few more drinks and a bit of playful joking, Jisung makes up his mind.
He decides to leave the houseparty with Yuna.
“Hey, I’m heading out,” he tells Chan and Changbin, who are still dancing and enjoying themselves. “Found someone I’m interested in, so I’m going with her.”
Chan raises his eyebrows, a knowing grin spreading across his face. “Alright, man. Good luck with her.”
Changbin gives him a thumbs-up. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Jisung chuckles, waving them off as he follows Yuna towards the exit. The bass continues to thump through the building as they make their way outside, where the cold night air hits them like a refreshing slap. They stand together, her hand casually resting on his waist as they wait for the Uber they’ve ordered. The city lights reflect off the slick pavement, giving the night an almost surreal quality.
Yuna presses against his side and looks up at him, her warm breath mixing with the chill of the evening. Jisung looks into her eyes, and before he knows it, they’re kissing. The kiss is far from perfect—there’s a certain clumsiness to it, a rushed urgency that doesn’t quite match up to the romance he’d imagined. But tonight, he doesn’t care about perfection. He just needs a distraction, and Yuna’s lips are providing just that.
When they finally pull apart, Jisung looks up, scanning the street for their ride as he feels himself growing impatient. His gaze inadvertently drifts across the road, where he spots a familiar figure exiting a restaurant.
The figure is unmistakably Minho, his tall frame and distinct blue puffy cardigan stands out against the scenery. Jisung’s heart skips a beat as their eyes lock.
For a split second, Minho’s face reveals nothing—just a blank, unreadable expression. His eyes quickly sweep over to Yuna, and Jisung notices his hand sliding lower on her back, a subconscious reaction to the unexpected encounter. Yuna, ever eager, presses a soft kiss to his neck, her lips warm against his skin.
“What happened to your ear?” She asks, stroking the soft hair by his nape.
Minho’s gaze lingers for just a moment longer before he turns around and walks away, heading in the direction of the dorms. Jisung’s chest tightens. He watches Minho’s retreating figure, the blue puffy cardigan gradually disappearing into the distance. There’s an ache of something he can’t quite place—regret, maybe?—but it quickly fades as Yuna’s hands guide him back to the present.
“Oh, uh, it’s nothing. I fell onto gravel and scratched it,” Jisung responds, although his daze of confusion is evident in his tone.
She presses a kiss to his cheek to make him feel better, even though the action goes unnoticed. “Come on, let’s go,” she says, intertwining their fingers and guiding him to the black Kia that’s parked in front of them.
Jisung nods, shaking off the lingering image of Minho. They climb into the waiting Uber, and as the car pulls away from the curb, Jisung feels a dull throb in his chest, the alcohol doing little to numb it. Yuna’s presence is warm beside him, and as they arrive at her apartment, the door is barely closed behind them before they’re entangled in each other.
He pushes her against the apartment door, the alcohol making him bold and impulsive. Jisung tries to focus on the sensations, the closeness, but his mind stubbornly drifts back to the sight of Minho standing on the other side of the street. The image of Minho in that oversized blue cardigan keeps intruding, like a ghost haunting his thoughts. The frustration of seeing him so unexpectedly, the confusion it stirs, lingers in Jisung’s mind despite the passionate moments unfolding before him.
As he kisses Yuna with a fervour that barely hides his distraction once more, he can’t shake the feeling that something feels out of place. It’s a gnawing sensation that the night’s entertainment can’t quite erase. But he doesn’t let that stop him from taking Yuna to bed and staying overnight.
***
The afternoon sun blazes down on the campus courtyard as Minho and Jisung stand side by side, brooms in hand, glaring at each other for what feels like the thousandth time today. The air between them is thick with tension, neither saying a word as they get to work on their punishment.
Jisung breaks the silence first, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "This is exactly how I imagined spending my weekend. Quality time with my favourite person."
"Trust me," Minho snaps back, sweeping a pile of leaves with aggressive strokes, "I’m having the time of my life too."
They work in silence for a few more minutes, the sound of their brushes scraping against the pavement the only noise filling the space between them. The courtyard is mostly empty, save for a few students passing by, casting curious glances in their direction.
"Can you stop staring at me?" Minho snaps, straightening up.
Jisung flinches, caught red-handed. It isn’t his fault that Minho’s black pants fit so well, accentuating his thighs and ass in just the right places. "I wasn't staring at you, asshole."
Minho scoffs, stepping closer to Jisung. "Sure you weren't."
Jisung rolls his eyes dramatically and leans against the broom he’s holding. "If I wanted to stare at someone, it definitely wouldn’t be you."
That’s not true at all. Minho is the most beautiful person Jisung has ever laid eyes on.
"Really? Then who?" Minho challenges.
The latter hesitates, clearly caught off guard by the question. For a moment, Minho wonders if he’s actually going to get a serious answer, but then Jisung smirks.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Jisung teases, his eyes flashing mischievously.
Minho lets out a frustrated huff and returns to sweeping, determined to ignore him. But Jisung’s presence is distracting, an irritating itch he can’t quite scratch. After a few minutes, Minho's patience snaps again.
"Are you even going to help or just stand there?" Minho ticks over his shoulder.
Jisung lets out a low chuckle. "Relax, I’m working." He lazily swipes a few dead leaves across the ground, making it clear that he isn't putting in any real effort.
Minho clenches his teeth. He doesn’t have time for Jisung’s antics, not with all the stress from school hanging over him. Just thinking about the upcoming exams is enough to tighten the knot of anxiety in his chest.
"You're so lazy," Minho mutters under his breath, pushing his sweeper whisk with more force than necessary.
"Excuse me?" Jisung perks up at that, his playful demeanour dropping for a moment. "I am not lazy. I just work smarter, not harder."
Minho lets out a breathy, strained laugh. "Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that."
Jisung's jaw tightens, and for a second, it looks like he's about to snap back, but instead, he lets out a slow exhale. "What's your problem today?" Jisung asks, quieter now. "You've been extra prickly since we got here."
Minho pauses mid-sweep, his hands tightening around the broom handle until his knuckles turn white. A battle rages in his chest—should he finally say it? Should he let Jisung know the truth that's been clawing at him for days?
But why should he? Jisung doesn’t deserve an explanation, not after everything.
The words simmer on Minho’s tongue, but he forces them back down, jaw clenched. They're stuck in this mess, and that’s Jisung’s doing. If he could just learn to shut up for once, Minho wouldn’t even be here, and the resentment twists deeper, sharper.
"Not going to talk, huh?" It’s Jisung’s turn to scoff, the bitterness acute in his voice. He looks away, forcing a shrug. "My bad, then."
They continue in silence, the strain thick between them, neither willing to break it with another word. Eventually, Mr. Choi arrives, his presence a welcome interruption. With a curt nod, he dismisses them for the day, freeing them from both their duties and each other.
The two boys walk off in opposite directions, the distance between them growing with each step.