Chapter Text
Han Yoojin arrived at the dorm with one suitcase, a backpack slung over his shoulder, and expectations so low they were practically underground..
The building itself was… nice. Too nice. White walls that didn’t have peeling paint. Floors that didn’t creak ominously. Even the air smelled expensive, like detergent that didn’t come in a bargain pack. Yoojin paused in the hallway, double-checking the room number on his phone before unlocking the door.
Room 1207.
Inside, the dorm was split neatly in two. Two bedrooms. One shared kitchen. One shared bathroom.
“So I do have a roommate,” Yoojin muttered, staring at the untouched second room.
He shrugged.
It wasn’t like he’d expected anything else. Dorm housing was cheap for a reason, and Yoojin had already mentally prepared himself for someone loud, messy, or allergic to basic human decency. As long as they stayed out of his way, he could deal.
He claimed the room closest to the window, rolled his suitcase inside, and began unpacking with practiced efficiency. Clothes folded neatly. Textbooks stacked carefully. His laptop placed on the desk like it was something precious—which, honestly, it was. Everything he owned had a purpose. Nothing was wasted.
By the time evening rolled around, Yoojin was exhausted in that bone-deep way that came from working too hard for too long. He showered, changed into worn pajamas, and collapsed onto the bed with a sigh.
Tomorrow was orientation. Tomorrow mattered.
He fell asleep quickly.
And woke up violently.
A loud slam echoed through the dorm, followed by another thud—something hitting the wall hard enough to rattle the frame. Yoojin jolted upright, heart racing, ears ringing. Then came laughter. Multiple voices. Music. And over all of it—
A smooth, deep voice.
Confident. Lazy. Annoyingly clear.
“—seriously, you should’ve seen his face—”
Yoojin groaned, burying his face into his pillow.
The noise didn’t stop.
It got worse.
By the time the voices finally faded and the door slammed again, Yoojin had checked the clock three times and contemplated several crimes. He slept like garbage, dreams fragmented and shallow, his patience worn thin by morning.
When sunlight crept through the curtains, Yoojin sat up slowly.
“…Yeah. No. Absolutely not.”
He dressed carefully, choosing his nicest outfit—clean jeans, a soft sweater he saved for important days, shoes without scuffs. He grabbed his textbooks like armor and stepped out of his room, jaw set.
The kitchen was occupied.
A guy sat casually on the countertop, one leg dangling, phone in hand. He looked utterly at home, like the dorm had been built for him. Blond hair fell messily over sharp eyes, his features unfairly pretty in a way that made Yoojin pause despite himself.
For half a second, Yoojin thought—
Woah. An Angel.
Then he noticed the watch on the guy’s wrist. The tailored jacket draped over a chair. The designer sneakers tossed carelessly near the door.
Oh.
A chaebol.. great.
Yoojin cleared his throat. “Hey. I’m Han Yoojin! Your roommate.”
The guy didn’t look up.
“…Seriously?” Yoojin frowned. “Did you not hear me?”
Still nothing.
That did it.
“Are you deaf, or do you just ignore people as a hobby?”
That finally earned him attention.
The blond lifted his gaze slowly, eyes flicking over Yoojin from head to toe. A smirk curved his lips—lazy, amused, and immediately infuriating.
“Well,” he drawled, voice smooth as sin, “good morning to you too.”
Yoojin crossed his arms. “You were loud last night. You and your friends. I couldn’t sleep.”
The guy tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “That so?”
“Yes. So maybe try not slamming doors at two in the morning.”
A soft laugh. The guy hopped off the counter with infuriating grace.
“Then maybe,” he said lightly, “you should find somewhere else to stay if noise bothers you that much.”
Yoojin felt something snap.
He laughed—short, humorless. “Right. Because everyone can just pack up and leave whenever they want.”
The guy’s eyes flicked to Yoojin’s clothes, then his books. The smirk sharpened. “I mean… judging by your taste, this place might be a bit above your budget anyway.”
There it was.
Familiar. Old. The kind of cruelty Yoojin had learned to swallow years ago.
He exhaled slowly.
Then smiled.
“Funny!” Yoojin said calmly, meeting his gaze, “I was just thinking the same thing—about how empty it must be, buying everything except a personality.”
The silence that followed was delicious.
The smirk froze.
Yoojin stepped past him, shouldering his bag. “Oh—and learn to use headphones. Some of us are here to study.”
Yoojin didn’t wait for a response.
Sung Hyunjae noticed the suitcase first.
It sat near the entrance, cheap and scuffed, like it had already been dragged through more places than it deserved. He paused mid-step, keys still in his hand, eyes flicking toward the two closed bedroom doors.
…So the roommate moved in.
Hyunjae clicked his tongue softly and kicked his shoes off anyway, stepping over the suitcase without a second thought. He tossed his jacket over the chair like he owned the place—which, functionally, he did—and didn’t bother checking which room the guy had taken.
It didn’t matter.
As long as they stayed quiet. As long as they didn’t ask questions. As long as they didn’t look at him like they were trying to understand something.
Night came with noise, and Hyunjae welcomed it.
Friends filled the dorm, laughter spilling everywhere, music loud enough to drown out the silence he hated when he was alone. Someone slammed the door. Someone bumped into the wall hard enough to make the frames rattle. Hyunjae laughed along easily, leaning against the counter, voice smooth and confident as ever.
“—seriously, you should’ve seen his face—”
He didn’t think about the roommate behind the closed door.
Didn’t think about how thin the walls were.
Didn’t think about anything except keeping the noise alive until it was late enough that exhaustion would finally knock him out.
Morning came too soon.
Hyunjae sat on the kitchen countertop, one leg dangling, phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly. His head ached faintly—not enough to complain, just enough to irritate him. He hadn’t slept well. He never really did.
Then—
Footsteps.
A door opening.
“Hey. I’m Han Yoojin! Your roommate.”
Hyunjae didn’t look up.
He heard him. Of course he did. He just… didn’t feel like dealing with introductions. People always wanted something during first impressions—approval, friendliness, acknowledgment. Hyunjae preferred to set expectations early.
“…Seriously?” the guy said. “Did you not hear me?”
Hyunjae’s thumb paused on his screen.
Still, he said nothing.
“Are you deaf, or do you just ignore people as a hobby?”
Ah.
There it is.
Hyunjae lifted his gaze slowly.
The guy standing there was… normal. Painfully so. Clean clothes, but clearly not new. Books clutched close, like they mattered more than appearances. Dark eyes—sharp despite the exhaustion sitting under them.
Hyunjae smirked.
“Well,” he drawled, voice smooth, “good morning to you too.”
The guy crossed his arms. “You were loud last night. You and your friends. I couldn’t sleep.”
So that’s what this was about.
Hyunjae tilted his head, pretending to think. “That so?”
“Yes. So maybe try not slamming doors at two in the morning.”
Hyunjae hopped off the counter, landing lightly. He let his gaze roam this time—clothes, shoes, books. The kind of assessment he’d learned to do without thinking.
“Then maybe,” he said lightly, “you should find somewhere else to stay if noise bothers you that much.”
The laugh he got in response wasn’t amused.
“Right. Because everyone can just pack up and leave whenever they want.”
Something in that tone made Hyunjae’s eyes sharpen.
He let them flick downward again, slow and deliberate. The sweater. The shoes. The way the guy stood his ground anyway.
The smirk came easily.
“I mean…” Hyunjae said, voice casual, “judging by your taste, this place might be a bit above your budget anyway.”
There it was.
The familiar line. The one that usually ended conversations.
The guy exhaled instead.
Then smiled.
“Funny!” Yoojin said calmly, meeting his gaze without flinching, “I was just thinking the same thing—about how empty it must be, buying everything except a personality.”
The words hit harder than Hyunjae expected.
Clean. Precise.
For a split second, the smirk slipped.
Silence stretched.
Before Hyunjae could recover, Yoojin stepped past him, shoulder brushing his arm—brief, unimportant, and somehow worse than a shove.
“Oh,” Yoojin added, already heading out, “and learn to use headphones. Some of us are here to study.”
The door closed.
Hyunjae stood there, staring at it.
The dorm felt quieter than it had any right to.
“…Tch.”
He scoffed, running a hand through his hair, irritation crawling under his skin. “What a pain,” he muttered.
And yet—
For reasons he absolutely refused to think about—
He replayed the way Yoojin hadn’t backed down.
The way he hadn’t laughed.
The way he hadn’t looked impressed.
Hyunjae glanced once toward the closed bedroom door that clearly wasn’t his.
Annoying.
..This roommate was going to be annoying.