Chapter Text
The campus cafeteria buzzed with conversations and clattering trays, the steady hum of lunchtime life in full swing, but none of it managed to touch Kim Jongin.
He sat at the far end of the long table near the back corner, the hood of his black windbreaker pulled halfway over his dark blonde hair. He leaned back with one leg stretched out, the other bent up against the seat, phone resting lazily in his palm. His expression remained unreadable, as usual—eyes low, mouth set in that signature line of passive disinterest.
He wasn’t wearing his headphones, but he might as well have been. No one spoke to him except for the two people sitting across from him—Byun Baekhyun, all sunshine and drama, and Park Chanyeol, six-foot-two of chaos and cheekbones, his laughter too loud for the confines of any room.
"I swear to god, the professor said 'discourse community' like ten times in one sentence," Baekhyun complained, poking the sad remains of his rice bowl. "Like he’s summoning a demon or something. Discourse. Community. Discourse. Community."
"I stopped taking notes the second he pulled out that chalk," Chanyeol snorted. "How is it still 2025 and we haven’t upgraded from chalkboards?"
Kai, eyes still fixed on his phone, muttered, “He’s allergic to relevance.”
Baekhyun blinked at him. “Jongin, did you just make a joke?”
Kai didn’t look up. “No.”
“Oh my god,” Chanyeol leaned in dramatically. “He’s infected. Someone check his temperature.”
Kai lifted his gaze just enough to glare. Not violently—just enough to make Baekhyun raise his hands in mock surrender, while Chanyeol grinned like he’d won the lottery.
“We’re just saying, it’s been a while since you said anything that wasn’t ‘no,’ ‘shut up,’ or ‘fuck off,’” Baekhyun chirped. “Proud of you, buddy.”
Kai’s phone buzzed. His attention snapped instantly back to the screen.
Baekhyun and Chanyeol exchanged a look.
Six months ago, Jongin didn’t even have social media. If you wanted to reach him, you needed smoke signals, a blood sacrifice, or an email he would ignore. But now—now he was on his phone a lot. Not in a scrolling kind of way. More focused. Intentional.
Secretive.
Baekhyun had tried snooping. Once. The one time he leaned over Kai’s shoulder to see his screen, Jongin had simply locked the phone and said, “Try that again and I’ll poison your lunch.”
"Noted," Baekhyun had replied. "You still share a fridge with me, so, I mean, good luck."
Now, though, Kai’s lips quirked—just barely. It wasn’t quite a smile, more like a ghost of one, so faint it could’ve been an illusion. But Chanyeol saw it. He saw it because he’d just taken a sip of water and immediately choked on it.
"You okay there?" Kai asked, deadpan, eyes still on the screen.
Chanyeol coughed into his elbow. "Yeah, just—wrong pipe. Probably possessed by that discourse demon."
But his eyes narrowed curiously as he subtly glanced at Kai’s phone again. No name visible. Just a grey bubble of typing dots blinking back and forth before Kai’s fingers moved across the screen—calm, practiced. Like he was used to this conversation. Like he wanted it.
Weird.
Back when they first moved in together sophomore year, Chanyeol had figured Jongin would open up eventually. People did. They cracked. They softened. But it was junior year now, and nothing had changed. Not until recently.
"Alright, lovers," Baekhyun sighed dramatically, stuffing the last spoonful of food in his mouth, "I have class in ten, which is conveniently the amount of time it takes me to pretend I’m interested in digital semiotics.”
"Have fun bullshitting participation," Chanyeol offered, standing with him.
Baekhyun gave Kai a two-finger salute. “See you back home, ice prince.”
Kai didn’t respond. Just lifted one eyebrow slightly.
Baekhyun cackled all the way out of the cafeteria.
Their apartment was a third-floor walk-up just off campus, cramped and cluttered but with enough personality that it felt like a home. At some point in their second year, Baekhyun had decorated the living room with string lights and a disco ball. No one had taken it down. There was a plant in the kitchen that no one watered but somehow hadn’t died. The couch was scarred with ramen stains and cat scratches, despite none of them owning a cat.
Jongin sat cross-legged on the floor that night, gaming laptop balanced in front of him as he edited something for his media class. He was wearing a black tank top and sweatpants, hair messy, silver chain resting just above his collarbones.
Chanyeol flopped onto the couch behind him, a bag of chips in one hand, textbook in the other.
“Baek said he’s sleeping over at Yuna’s tonight,” Chanyeol said casually.
Jongin didn’t respond.
"You’ve been kinda…" Chanyeol hesitated, squinting at the ceiling like the words might be up there. "Different lately."
No answer.
“I mean, not in a bad way,” he added quickly. “Just… not full serial killer vibes anymore. You’re like, I don’t know… 60% less likely to murder us in our sleep.”
“I’ll bump it back up if you keep talking,” Jongin said, fingers tapping without pause.
Chanyeol grinned. “See, I like this version of you. Grumpy with a side of spicy. Not just straight-up Siberian winter.”
Jongin finally paused, dragging his eyes up to meet Chanyeol’s. His stare was sharp, unforgiving—but there was no real heat behind it.
“…Do you want something?”
“Nope.” Chanyeol popped a chip into his mouth. “Just trying to figure out who’s got you smiling at your phone like a man with a crush.”
That got a reaction.
It was subtle—barely a flicker—but Jongin’s jaw ticked, and he immediately shut his laptop.
“I'm going to bed.”
Chanyeol laughed, letting him walk off without another word. He heard Jongin’s door shut behind him.
He waited a beat.
Then whispered into the quiet living room, “Definitely a crush.”
Kai lay on his bed in the dark, phone glowing gently in his hand.
[6:24 PM]
You home yet?
It took a minute, then:
[6:25 PM]
Just walked in. You?
[6:25 PM]
Been home. Roommates are loud.
[6:25 PM]
Still not telling them about me?
Kai stared at the screen.
[6:26 PM]
Not yet.
[6:26 PM]
Scared they’ll tease you?
[6:26 PM]
They already do.
The reply came with a laughing emoji.
Then:
[6:27 PM]
Missed you today.
He read it three times.
Set the phone down on his chest.
Closed his eyes.
And let the smallest, tiniest smile curve his lips.