seogenre
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“Getting into trouble with punks on your first day is not smart,” Minho chided, and Jisung didn’t say anything. “Do you even know how to fight or did I actually just save your ass?”
Or, a day before arriving at Jungang High, Jisung witnesses a murder. Minho finds himself with no other choice than to protect him.
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He opens the wooden door and blinks one, two, three times, facing the guy — not man, guy — standing at his porch.
After spending days looking for a bunch of middle-aged, gray-haired, or cash-rich looking men, he can't hide the surprise on his face as he looks at this guy wearing baggy jeans, a white t-shirt under a hooded jacket and a pair of hoop earrings.
When he looks at his face, he notices another expression of surprise in his round eyes and soft cheeks.
“Uhm, I'm here for piano class? Is this Lee's house?”or: after being single for years while raising a kid, Minho ends up hooking up with his son's piano tutor, who's extremely hot, sweet, gentle and six years younger than him.
- Language:
- English
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- 4/4
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Bookmarked by seogenre
08 Jul 2026
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Bookmarker's Notes
q lindo amo el slice of life
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Minho’s gaze lingers long enough to make Jisung lightheaded. “I’ll beat you next time.”
“Pick the game,” Jisung shoots back because his pride doesn’t know when to quit.
“Oh, I’ve got a few in mind.” Minho’s thumb traces the rim of his cup, smile flickering. “Hope you can keep up.”
Something tightens low in Jisung’s stomach, hot and dangerous. He hates how much he wants to pick another fight—or start something worse—just to keep Minho here, looking at him like that.
OR, the one where Jisung calls it rivalry, but everyone else calls it foreplay.
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Beside him, stood a boy with honey skin, roughly 170cm with short brown hair whose bangs fell over his eyes, gently complimenting them. He wore round glasses with thin frames that would normally give one a nerdy vibe if not for his strong, muscular arms — bigger than his own, Hyunjin though. However, he didn’t seem to recognize at first who that could’ve been. He surely would’ve recalled someone who was similar to that in high school.
And then he noticed.
The chubby cheeks, big eyes, slightly thicker lower lip, the gummy smile and the mole on the left side of his face.
Holy shit. That was Han Jisung?
A simple high school reunion, just to meet his old classmates again after five years — Hyunjin thought. He wasn’t expecting much from that night, and he certainly wasn’t expecting to find out the nerd kid he used to argue with in his teenage years suddenly turned into a hot guy.
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“Is the seat next to you taken?”
Minho looks up, fixing the round rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, and finds the guy that has clearly become familiar against his will standing there, fingers curled around the strap of his bag.
“Ah. Jiwon,” he says. “I suppose this row has enough seats for both of us.”
“Jisung,” he corrects, settling down with one chair of respectful distance between them. He sounds amused by the mistake. Minho is just happy they won’t be bumping elbows. “But you can call me anything you want.”
Minho’s eyebrows shoot up. “Does that line usually work for you?”
“I don’t know,” Jisung laughs, setting his laptop on the desk and pulling out a giant can of an energy drink out of his bag. He pops it open and takes a generous swig. “It’s the first time I’ve ever used it.”
(Minho moves to Seoul with one rule at the forefront of his mind: to not give his heart away to a hockey player. Jisung breaks it for him.)