Chapter Text
Minho startles with a jump at the first beep from his morning alarm, blinking sleepily while reaching to switch it off. He isn’t a light sleeper by any means, but the second his alarm rings he wakes in a heartbeat. He yawns and stretches, then slides out of bed and pads across the floor and into the bathroom.
He frowns at his reflection in the bathroom mirror: heavy dark circles and ruffled blonde hair sticking up in different directions. He squints, checking to see if his natural black roots are showing at all yet, but finds himself satisfied with the current state. And thank god for that, he doesn’t quite have enough money for another dye job just yet.
Minho finishes showering in under ten minutes, dries his hair in five, dresses in three. He wanders into the bedroom beside his own, entering without knocking as always.
Inside, the figure huddled under a stack of blankets on the bed doesn’t move at all. Minho chuckles and aims a sharp kick at it.
“Ow!”
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”
A face emerges from the blankets, mussed brown hair in his eyes and swollen lips pouting in annoyance. “Why do you always do that? I told you your stupid hair dryer already wakes me up!”
“Because it’s fun.” Minho waits for his roommate to get up, arranging himself comfortably on the bed while he finishes buttoning up his shirt. “Stop sulking, Hyunjin, you’re too old for that.”
Hyunjin flips onto his back, still making no move to get up. He draws the sheets up until only his glaring eyes are visible, turning to slits when he realises Minho is filming his reaction.
“Fuck off,” he says half-heartedly, knowing he won’t do anything about Minho and Minho knows he won’t.
The two have been roommates for just three months shy of one year now. Minho had previously been fortunate enough to room on his own during his first year, and being an only child to boot he was not particularly excited at the prospect of having to share a dorm for the first time in his life.
Hyunjin had transferred from another university in a different state, and being taken in randomly mid-term meant the university had struggled to find somewhere to put him before they realised Minho still wasn’t sharing.
His reception into their dorm from Minho was cold at first. Despite being told by the too-cheerful guide that the two would get along wonderfully- she informed Hyunjin that Minho was also a dance major- the first few weeks of their life together were empty and awkward; Minho made sure to be absent as often as possible, to only leave his room if he absolutely had to, and never cleaned or touched anything that belonged to Hyunjin.
Almost a month of this brought Hyunjin to his wit’s end. He was kind, polite- a little loud at times but he was sure he wasn’t too overbearing- and frankly had no idea why his roommate was so determined to avoid him, so one day he sat on their couch waiting for Minho to arrive home from class.
“What are you doing?” Minho had asked, after five long seconds of silence, glancing back at the still open door behind him like a scared cat as if he were intending to make a run for it.
Convinced he really might, Hyunjin had quickly stood up and made his way towards the older boy, trying to ignore the way Minho backed away from him. “I was thinking we could go out for dinner tonight.”
The older boy had blinked in confusion. “What?”
Palms sweating, Hyunjin plowed on. “There’s nothing in the house.”
There had been, Hyunjin had just eaten it all in one go, determined not to give the other an out. In all honesty, he felt rather sick. Minho wasn’t going to know that, though.
After a slight staring contest, Minho internally decided that Hyunjin wasn’t going to give in, even though Hyunjin felt his will slipping away from him with every passing second.
Two hours later, the two had been draped over each other in a chicken and beer joint, Hyunjin drunk out of his mind and Minho tipsy but within control, explaining through mouthfuls of boneless spicy wings that while he was very good at putting on a more extroverted façade in public, he finds it very difficult to get close to people he has to see consistently.
Hyunjin had waved his apology aside- as well as the radish dish beside him- and said he completely understood, but he hoped they could be friends now.
What had really solidified their friendship was their walk back to the dorms. Minho wobbled as he carried the taller boy on his back, not entirely convinced Hyunjin could walk on his own. Just one more turn before they reached the lobby, Hyunjin had leapt off his back and launched himself into the nearby bushes.
After emptying his stomach contents into the shrubbery, Hyunjin had mournfully turned to look up at the older boy.
“I ate the food you had earlier because I didn’t want you to have any reason to stay home.”
Cackling at the confession, Minho had stayed beside the younger, one hand combing through Hyunjin’s dark hair, the other rubbing his back soothingly. “I’m glad of it.”
Hyunjin eyes Minho now, assessing the older boy’s outfit. “How do you manage to put together an outfit so quickly and make it work?”
“Anything works when you’re this good looking.”
Hyunjin snorts.
Ducking away from Minho’s outstretched hand, he rolls onto the floor, tangled sheets coming with him. He begins to crawl slowly across the floor like a giant slug, making his way to the bathroom.
Minho steps over him and strides past, shutting the door as Hyunjin is about to slide in, nearly hitting his fingers.
“How dare you-”
With a laugh Minho quickly moves into the kitchen and away from Hyunjin’s wrath. After grabbing a bar from the cupboard and his water bottle from the fridge, he hastily shoves his textbooks into his satchel bag. He bends to tug his shoes on then grunts in pain, grabbing his right shoulder and squeezing it.
Apparently no amount of rest was going to make him feel better, no matter how much his teacher or mother insisted upon it.
Hyunjin appears beside him, a washing basket in his arms.
“I’m gonna do a laundry run before class today, do you…” The younger boy trails off as he notes Minho’s pain. He tilts his head in concern. “When are you going to do something about that?”
“Never,” Minho grins, and Hyunjin flinches for him as he slides his bag strap onto his shoulder. “It is my fate to just suffer and die.”
“Get out,” Hyunjin laughs. He places the basket on the floor then pulls his shirt over his head, dropping it in with the other laundry.
Minho gags.
“I’ll meet you in the practice rooms at three,” Hyunjin calls as he walks back to the bathroom. The door slams and a muffled cry sounds from behind: “don’t make me wait again!”
“I just don’t see why the professors think it’s okay to give us this many assignments on top of placement? It isn’t fair and I’m sure they don’t even read our work properly when they grade it.”
Bambam, a friend of Minho’s since high school, walks beside Minho, mid-rant about the latest assessments to be dumped on him. To Bambam’s left is his boyfriend Chan, a transfer student from Australia who finds that swinging their clasped hands and tracing his thumb lightly over Bambam’s hand helps to calm the older boy down.
“It’s all a sham,” Chan remarks in agreement.
Minho says nothing as Bambam continues to pick apart the flaws of the education system, choosing to focus on a brown-haired boy ahead of them in the crowd, and more specifically, how he can avoid him. He considered himself an expert at crowd dodging, hating being sucked in to talk to those people on the streets who try to make you sign up for anything and everything.
The boy and a companion pounce on every passerby they can, and before Minho has an exit strategy in place the boy locks eyes with him, making his way over with papers extended before him.
Minho tries to dodge and brushes past rudely, flicking the papers away. The papers scatter to the ground and Bambam and Chan immediately get down to help pick them up. Minho scrunches his nose, watching them all and doing nothing himself.
“Thank you guys,” the brunet says, reaching out to stop another sheet flying away. “It’s this useless survey for a project I have to organise for our research lab, even though I asked multiple times why I couldn’t just organise this online.”
Vaguely, Minho hears Bambam starting up his complaints again and Chan’s polite “no problem” as he glances down at the typed words on one sheet by his foot: ‘free holiday- massages and spa deal included’.
Eyes widening comically, Minho drops to his knees beside the brunet, gathering up the papers and profusely apologizing to the boy as he does so.
Chan and Bambam exchange confused glances but say nothing as they get to their feet.
“I’ll do your survey,” Minho smiles brightly, holding his hand out to the boy. “To make up for bowling you over like that. I’m too clumsy sometimes. My name is Minho.”
The boy takes his hand and shakes it, not seeming totally won over but clearly thankful that one person is willing to do it.
Behind them, Bambam rolls his eyes, used to Minho’s tactics.
“Seungmin,” the brunet replies, and Minho’s sure he knows he’s a fake bitch. Seungmin smiles slyly. “And that’s great! I just need your partner’s signature and we can do the rest later.”
A girl comes up beside them, tugging her boyfriend along with her. She thrusts their own surveys into Seungmin’s hands.
“I’ll get back to you by the end of the day!” Seungmin calls, and she gives a thumbs up before heading off. He turns back to Minho, brows raised as if to defy him.
Minho stares back, smile tight. He glances around the crowd, assessing the people around him.
“Minho what-” Chan starts, only to be cut off by Minho.
“There he is! Give me a moment.”
Chan and Seungmin stare after Minho as he runs off, Bambam unsure of what’s happening but confident that it’s something stupid.
“Hi!”
Minho envelops the boy before him in a hug, smiling charmingly and glancing over his shoulder to see if the others are watching. He notes Bambam’s flat expression and tries not to laugh.
“Do I … do I know you?”
The boy stares up at him, confusion plastered across his face as he takes in Minho standing before him. He’s shorter than Minho, not by a lot, and adorable in the way Minho loves: rounded cheeks and big brown eyes, a head of fuzzy brown hair that seems to have either been dyed to death or perhaps crimped (rather badly) and then been brushed out. His outfit consists of almost entirely black- jeans and a hoodie- with no shirt underneath if the hint of collarbone showing was anything to go by, and the thin silver chain necklaces resting over his very tanned skin almost make Minho forget the reason he came over in the first place.
“Not yet.” Minho winks.
The boy seems undeterred. “I’m late for class.”
Looking back, Minho sees the other three beginning to walk over. “Look,” he hisses, placing his phone in the boy’s hand, “all I need is your name and number and then you can go.”
The boy’s mouth drops in shock, making him impossibly cuter, and Minho would fawn over it if he wasn’t under a time limit. The boy pinches himself on the arm.
Minho squints. “What are you-”
“Jisung,” he says breathily, fumbling with the phone as he enters his details. “I’m Han Jisung.”
“Brilliant,” Minho leans forward, planting a kiss on Jisung’s cheek, blinking in surprise at how soft it is. “You’ve just saved my life.”
“This is your boyfriend?” Seungmin asks as he draws closer, Chan and Bambam curiously walking alongside him.
“Your what?” Jisung squeaks.
“I’ll explain later,” Minho murmurs by his ear, then pulls away with a laugh directed at the others. “Sure is! But he’s late for class so he can sign later!”
He reaches out and pats Jisung’s butt, shoving him in the direction of the classrooms. “Later, babe!”
Cheeks flushed and clearly more confused than ever, Jisung nods and musters the best excuse for a smile he can before heading up the stairs.
“So I can just give you our names and numbers for now, and we can come see you in the next couple of days to finish the rest. Would that be okay?”
Seungmin shrugs. “Should be fine.”
He passes Minho a sheet, noting Minho double checking Jisung’s details on his phone but choosing to say nothing.
Minho hands back the sheet and waves. “See you soon!”
Seungmin waves back before walking over to his friend to continue asking for participants, and Minho turns gleefully to his friends, thankful that he once again managed to pull off what Bambam liked to call his ‘evil schemes’.
Bambam watches him, arms folded over his chest. “Minho. What the fuck.”
Chan looks back and forth between Minho’s smug expression and Bambam’s disgusted one in confusion. “What’s going on?”
“You don’t have a boyfriend!”
“He doesn’t?”
Bambam throws up his hands, exasperated. “I think we would know if he did. Who was that, Minho?”
“Wh-“
Bambam shoots a glare and Chan falls silent, brows creased.
“His name is Jisung,” says Minho proudly. “Isn’t he cute?”
Chan says “very” while Bambam asks “where did you meet him?”
Minho takes both their hands and marches through the crowd, dragging them in the direction of the campus coffee shop. “I’ll explain it to you over coffee, okay?”