Chapter Text
Rumors had spread, of course.
Roan Academy was an elite school, complete with gold-embroidered uniforms and marble staircases, but its gossip mill rivaled that of the bored aunties by the streets.
And Room 3C had just happened to become its most scandalous topic as of now.
By the end of the week, everyone knew that something had shifted between the two known enemies.
“Did you see Choi Han-ssi carrying Henituse-ssi to the infirmary? Bridal-style, I might add.”
“I swear I heard laughter from their room. Do you know how shocked I was?”
“Someone said Henituse-ssi smiled at Choi Han-ssi in the quad...”
“They've probably made up. That’s the only explanation. Though, I do wonder what ha happened for it to happen...”
Even their RA, who had long since given up on mediating their arguments over noise levels and fridge territory, slid a “Get Well Soon!” card under the door.
It was shaped like a cartoon thermometer with a band-aid on it and had sparkly writing that said, ‘Hope you two are friends now!❤️’
Cale pinned it to their corkboard with a smug smile.
Choi Han, ever the meticulous one, responded by alphabetizing their cold medicine in the cabinet and placing a new humidifier beside Cale’s bed “for recovery.”
Some things never changed.
Cale still left his socks everywhere and Choi Han still corrected his grammar mid-rant.
But other things did.
There were now two mugs on the windowsill instead of one.
There were two toothbrushes in the same cup on the sink, red and black, with matching toothpaste caps. Choi Han bought a spare travel set just in case Cale “lost” his again(spoiler alert, he did).
There was a shared playlist on Choi Han’s phone labeled, “Room 3C Truce Treaty – do not skip my songs, Cale.”
The first track was a dramatic orchestral piece Choi Han loved, the second was a punk rock anthem Cale had added out of spite.
The third? A quiet piano melody they both fell asleep to during study nights.
Their desks, once clear battle lines, were now beside each other.
Cale’s notes drifted onto Choi Han’s side, while Choi Han’s highlighters ended up in Cale’s hoodies.
But no one moved anything back.
In the mornings, Choi Han brewed tea while Cale fumbled with cereal.
In the evenings, they sat side by side on the floor, sharing a blanket and reading in comfortable silence.
Sometimes, Cale would rest his head on Choi Han’s shoulder. Other times, Choi Han would fall asleep with his hand curled loosely around Cale’s hoodie string.
And sometimes, Cale would feel a familiar arm snake around his waist beneath the covers.
He never complained.
Not anymore.
He’d wake to the sound of soft breathing against his nape, the brush of dark hair at his cheek, and a sleepy mumble.
“Too far, come closer.”
And he would do it, every single time.
One night, nestled in the warmth of shared blankets, Choi Han had murmured against his skin.
“I still think you’re a menace.”
Cale hummed back, not even a bit phased at the sudden insult.
“And I still think you’re a glorified robot, but—”
“But?”
Cale turned his head slightly, brushing their noses together in the dark.
“I like you anyway,” he whispered, before pressing a light kiss to the tip of Choi Han’s nose.
Choi Han smiled against him, now half-asleep but still wholly sincere.
“Good,” he murmured sleepily. “Because I’m not letting you go.”
Cale let his fingers curl around Choi Han’s hand beneath the blanket, intertwining them like he promised.
And in a voice so quiet it barely reached the other's ears, Cale whispered something that felt like a vow.
“Yeah… I don’t really want you to.”
And he really mean it.
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END