Work Text:
The digital clock on the nightstand clicks from 6:49 to 6:50 AM, but the dorm room remains perfectly silent.
Before the bright screen of the smartphone can even register its own alarm, Seungmin’s thumb swipes across the glass, killing the blaring ringtone in its infancy. He exhales quiet breath into the still air of the room. The space is heavy with sleep, smelling faintly of laundry detergent and the cold, crisp draft leaking through the old window frame.
Seungmin sets the phone back down on the bedside table. He moves with practiced, quiet efficiency, his bare feet making no sound against the floor. He steps over to the window and reaches for the plastic wand of the blinds. He doesn't pull them wide open. Instead, he twists the wand just a fraction, angling the slats so only a muted, narrow sliver of morning sunlight spills into the room. It cuts across the floor, stopping safely short of the bed, ensuring no blinding glare hits the pillows.
With the room carefully prepped, Seungmin turns his attention to the tangled pile of blankets occupying the other side of the dorm.
Hyunjin is buried beneath the covers, only the crown of his dark hair and a sliver of his forehead visible. He looks entirely at peace, unaware of the digital heart attack he just avoided.
Seungmin sits on the edge of the mattress. The bed dips slightly under his weight. He reaches out, resting a warm hand on the curve of Hyunjin’s shoulder. He begins a steady pressure there, just a slow rub against the fabric of his t-shirt. With his other hand, Seungmin gently brushes the long strands of hair away from Hyunjin’s forehead, offering a physical tether to pull him safely from the dream world.
"Hyunjin," Seungmin murmurs. His voice is a low, gravelly hum in the quiet room. "Time to get up."
Hyunjin stirs. His brow furrows slightly before his eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused. There is no sudden gasp for air, no frantic grasping at the sheets. He just blinks slowly against the soft light, leaning unconsciously into the warmth of Seungmin's palm before letting out a long, tired sigh.
It is a completely tranquil transition into reality.
It also wasn’t always like this.
Just a few months ago, during their first month of being assigned as roommates, mornings were nothing short of a psychological battlefield.
Hyunjin was a notoriously heavy sleeper. Terrified of missing his early studio classes, he overcompensated by setting his alarm at a punishing volume, an aggressive, jarring siren designed to wake the dead. And he set it early. Too early.
The first time it went off, Seungmin nearly fell out of his own bed. He had watched from across the room as Hyunjin shot upright with a sharp, ragged gasp. Hyunjin’s chest heaved, his eyes wide and frantic in the dark as his heart raced erratically against his ribs. The violent awakening triggered a mild, suffocating panic that clung to him even after he scrambled to turn the noise off. He would sit there on the edge of the bed, trembling slightly, before checking his watch and realizing with exhausted slump that he still had over an hour to get ready.
But the damage was already done. The adrenaline spike ruined him for the rest of the day.
The immediate aftermath was a nightmare to deal with. Hyunjin’s lingering panic manifested directly as sharp-tongued hostility. He would drag himself into the small bathroom, slam the door, and emerge as a deeply unpleasant version of himself. He was snappy, irritable, and practically radiating a defensive, bitchy aura that absolutely nothing could penetrate. The only known cure was dragging his feet to the campus café and inhaling a massive iced americano in complete, sullen silence.
Seungmin, being pragmatic by nature, adapted quickly. He learned to simply give Hyunjin a wide berth before 9:00 AM, ignoring the petty glares and the dramatic sighs.
But three months into the semester, the fragile morning ecosystem broke.
It was a Tuesday. Seungmin was running late. In his rush to grab his textbook from the shared desk, he accidentally knocked over Hyunjin’s precarious stack of sketchbooks. They hit the floor with a loud thud.
Hyunjin, who had just been violently startled awake by his own alarm ten minutes prior, snapped. He practically bit Seungmin’s head off, his voice lashing out with a venomous, uncalled-for remark about Seungmin’s clumsiness and lack of consideration.
Seungmin had just blinked. Rather than yelling back, he just picked up the sketchbooks, grabbed his bag, and walked out the door. He knew it was the ‘morning talking’. He didn't take it to heart.
However, when Seungmin returned to the dorm late that evening after a grueling study group meeting, the atmosphere was thick. The main lights were off. Only the warm, yellow glow of Hyunjin’s desk lamp illuminated the room.
Hyunjin was sitting on his bed, his knees pulled to his chest, aggressively picking at a loose thread on his pants. He looked up when the door clicked shut, his expression incredibly small. He had clearly been mulling over the incident for hours, waiting in the dark.
"I'm sorry," Hyunjin blurted out before Seungmin could even drop his backpack. The words were awkward, forced through a tight throat. "About this morning. I shouldn't have said that. It was my fault, and I was really out of line."
Seungmin paused, looking at the genuine distress swimming in his roommate's eyes. "It's fine, Hyunjin. I know you didn't mean it."
"It's not fine," Hyunjin argued weakly, dropping his forehead against his knees. The guilt was practically eating him alive. "I just... I hate waking up like that. My chest gets so tight, and my brain just goes into overdrive, and I take it out on you. It's terrible."
Seungmin hadn't fully realized the extent of it until that moment. He hadn't realized that the hostility wasn't just a bad mood, but a defense mechanism against a violently triggered anxiety response.
The proof came a week later. A severe snowstorm canceled all morning lectures. Hyunjin forgot to set his alarm and ended up sleeping until ten in the morning. When he finally woke up naturally, the difference was staggering. There were no harsh words, no slammed doors. Hyunjin was relaxed, slow-moving, and almost sickeningly sweet, offering to make Seungmin a cup of tea.
That was the exact day Seungmin quietly took matters into his own hands.
He didn't announce his plan. He didn't sit Hyunjin down for a heart-to-heart. Seungmin simply rewired his own internal clock. He began waking up just ten minutes before Hyunjin’s scheduled siren could go off. He intercepted the noise, managed the light, and took on the role of a human alarm clock.
Seungmin adamantly refused to label it as an act of profound care. If anyone asked, he would claim it was purely for his own sanity. He just wanted a quiet morning. He just didn't want to deal with the hostility. And, most importantly, he just absolutely hated the pathetic, guilty-puppy look Hyunjin got in his eyes whenever he had to apologize for snapping.
It was selfish, pragmatic mission. Or so Seungmin told himself every single morning.
Back in the present, Hyunjin lets out another soft groan, stretching his arms above his head as Seungmin continues to gently rub his shoulder.
"Mornin'," Hyunjin rasps, his voice thick and lazy. He blinks up at Seungmin, a small, unguarded smile breaking across his face.
"Morning," Seungmin replies, stepping back from the bed and shoving his hands into his sweatpants pockets to hide the sudden, irrational spike in his own pulse. "Get up. You have a lecture in an hour."
-
The shift in their dynamic doesn't just stay confined to the early mornings in their dorm room. It slowly begins to bleed into the rest of the day.
That same afternoon, the transition from campus life to the heavy scent of roasted coffee beans at the Bean & Leaf café—a homey, independent coffee shop tucked away in a residential neighborhood miles from the university campus—feels like a necessary anchor. The late rush has finally died down. The sun is just starting to set.
Seungmin shift will ends in exactly ten minutes.
He just methodically wiping down the espresso machine when his phone buzzes inside his jeans pocket, a short, sharp vibration.
He tosses the damp rag aside and taps the screen. It’s a message from Hyunjin. There’s no actual text at first, just an image file. Seungmin opens it, leaning his weight against the counter as his eyes scan the screen.
It is a quick, rough charcoal sketch on a piece of torn sketchbook paper. It’s a drawing of a fluffy puppy with slightly droopy ears, sitting awkwardly with its head tilted to the side, looking unamused. Beneath the image, a single text bubble pops up a second later:
>Hyunjin (Roommate) : Saw a dog outside the studio that looked exactly like this. Reminded me of you.
Seungmin stares at the screen. The corner of his mouth twitches, pulling upward into unguarded smile. His chest feels surprisingly light. He types a quick, dry response about Hyunjin’s terrible eyesight, but the smile doesn't leave his face.
"Disgusting."
Seungmin jumps, immediately flipping his phone face down on the counter.
Minho is leaning casually against the pastry case, a spray bottle in one hand. He narrows his dark eyes, scrutinizing Seungmin with a mix of deep judgment and sharp amusement.
"Excuse me?" Seungmin deadpans, quickly reaching behind his back to untie his green apron.
"You're smiling at your phone like a pervert," Minho points out smoothly, his voice flat. "It’s unsettling. Did you finally win the lottery, or is it just.. your roommate?”
"Wish it was lottery," Seungmin mutters, folding the apron with jerky movements to hide his suddenly jittery hands.
Minho hums, a low, knowing sound that instantly grates on Seungmin's nerves. "Right. But you're going to box up a slice of lemon pound cake for him anyway, aren't you?"
Seungmin freezes, his hand hovering over the stack of empty pastry boxes. He presses his lips together, feeling a faint, betraying heat rise in the back of his neck. He doesn't answer Minho. He just grabs a small cardboard box, reaches for the tongs, and carefully slides a fresh slice of cake inside.
Minho chuckles, a deeply satisfied sound, as he turns and walks away to clear the back tables.
"Have a good night, Seungmin," Minho calls over his shoulder, the smirk practically audible in his voice. "Tell the dog I said hello."
The vibration against the bedside table is aggressive buzz that shatters the early morning stillness.
Seungmin blindly snatches the phone before the screen can even fully light up the dark room, pressing the speaker tight to his ear. It is 4:15 AM. On the other end of the line, Felix, his group mates, is already talking a mile a minute, pure panic bleeding through his hurried whispers. Someone in their group had botched the statistical data for their final research project, and the submission portal closes at noon.
There is no time to think. Seungmin throws the covers off, his feet hitting the cold hardwood. He grabs yesterday’s jeans, shoves his arms into hoodie, and snags his laptop bag from the desk. His movements are a blur of frantic, mechanical efficiency. He slips out the door, letting the latch click shut behind him with a muted thud, and sprints down the hall toward the nearest bus stop.
In the chaotic rush to fix the academic disaster, a crucial detail slips his mind. He forgets to check the digital clock. He forgets to manage the window blinds. And, most importantly, he completely forgets to intercept the blaring siren programmed into Hyunjin’s phone.
-
By the time 3:00 PM rolls around, the crisis is averted, the paper is submitted, and Seungmin is utterly exhausted. He stands behind the wooden counter, hands a customer their change, offering a polite, practiced smile before the cash register drawer clicks shut. He leans back against the back counter, letting out a long exhale, running a hand through his messy hair.
A few feet away, Minho is lazily pushing a damp mop across the tile floor. He is wearing the dark green café apron over a black turtleneck, looking profoundly bored with his existence. He pauses, leaning his entire body weight against the wooden handle, and squints through the massive front window of the shop.
"Isn't that your boyfriend, Seungmin?" Minho asks. His voice is perfectly flat, casual, but laced with a lethal dose of amusement.
Seungmin blinks, his brain lagging a full second behind. He follows Minho’s gaze out onto the sidewalk.
Standing right by the edge of the street, looking out of place in this neighborhood, is Hyunjin. He is wearing an oversized, thick cream sweater that swallows his hands, paired with loose denim. His dark hair is messy, pushed back from his face but falling into his eyes as the autumn wind picks up. He looks lost, staring blankly at a faded bus schedule taped to a streetlamp, his posture slumped with lingering lethargy.
Seungmin’s heart does a weird stutter against his ribs. What is he doing all the way out here?
"He's not my boyfriend," Seungmin replies automatically, though his eyes remain glued to the glass.
Minho scoffs, pull out a grating sound. "Right. The guy you stare at your phone waiting for texts from, the one you complain about constantly but buy extra pastries for. Definitely just a roommate. My mistake."
Seungmin ignores the bait. He turns to his right, where Jeongin is violently scrubbing the steam wand of the espresso machine.
"Jeongin, take the register for two minutes," Seungmin instructs, already untying the knot of his apron.
Jeongin stops scrubbing, fixing Seungmin with an deadpan, exhausted glare. "I am gonna making a mocha. I only have two hands."
"I will buy you lunch tomorrow. Just watch the front," Seungmin bargains, tossing the apron onto his arm. He doesn't wait for Jeongin to roll his eyes and agree. He pushes through the swinging door, stepping out into the brisk afternoon air.
Hyunjin is still staring at the metal pole, entirely zoned out. He doesn't even register the sound of the café door chiming. He doesn't notice the approaching footsteps until Seungmin reaches out and taps a firm finger against his shoulder.
Hyunjin jumps, his shoulders jerking upward. He spins around, his eyes wide and slightly unfocused.
"What are you doing here?" Seungmin asks, keeping his tone light, though he immediately registers the faint shadows under Hyunjin’s eyes.
Hyunjin blinks, his gaze dropping to the dark green apron draped over Seungmin’s arm before drifting up to the wooden sign hanging above the door across from them.
"Oh," Hyunjin breathes, the realization settling over his features. "Is this your workplace? I knew you worked at café off-campus, but I didn't realize it was this far out."
"It is," Seungmin replies, tilting his head slightly. "You are almost an hour away from the dorms. Are you lost?"
Hyunjin rubs the back of his neck, a faint, sheepish pink dusting his cheekbones. "I was just walking. Needed to clear my head after my morning classes. I guess my feet just kept following the main road until I ended up here."
He looks drained. The sharp hostility of a bad morning isn't there, replaced by a hollow, burnt-out fatigue. Seungmin’s chest twinges with a sudden strike of guilt, the memory of the blaring alarm he failed to stop finally crashing back into his mind.
"Come inside," Seungmin says softly, gesturing toward the door. "It's freezing out here."
Hyunjin follows him into the warmth of the shop. He orders an iced americano—a desperate attempt to shock his system back to life—and a slice of lemon pound cake. As Jeongin rings him up, Hyunjin leans over the counter, looking at Seungmin.
"What time does your shift end?"
"Four-thirty," Seungmin replies.
"Can I wait?" Hyunjin asks, his voice dropping slightly, sounding almost hesitant. "We can walk back together. If you don’t mind."
"Yeah. That's fine."
Hyunjin takes his tray and retreats to a small, circular table right by the front window.
For the next hour, whenever the café lulls into a peaceful state, Seungmin’s gaze naturally drifts toward that corner. The late afternoon sun filters through the glass, catching the strands of Hyunjin’s hair, creating a halo effect against his hair and the dark wood of the booth. Hyunjin has pulled a pencil and a small sketchbook from his tote bag. He is absorbed in the paper, his long fingers moving with a practiced, fluid grace. He looks ethereal, framed by the dust motes dancing in the sunlight, his bottom lip caught between his teeth in deep concentration.
Seungmin is so captivated by the way the light hits the bridge of Hyunjin's nose that he fails to notice the danger creeping up beside him.
"Wipe the drool," Minho whispers directly into his ear.
Seungmin flinches violently, nearly knocking over a stack of plastic cups. Minho is leaning casually against the counter, a wicked, knowing smirk playing on his lips.
"I was just making sure he had enough water," Seungmin defends, his voice coming out a pitch too high.
"He's drinking enough coffee to flooding a village, though," Minho points out mercilessly. "You've been staring at him for ten minutes. It's getting pathetic."
Jeongin walks past them carrying a stack of clean little plates, shaking his head. "It's sickening. If flirting scene is going to be happen, please, for the love of the most almighty entity out there, do it off work time. I'm trying to maintain a professional environment here."
"We aren't going to flirting," Seungmin hisses, feeling the tips of his ears burn. "We are strictly friends. He's my roommate. He doesn't think of me like that, and I don't think of him like that."
Minho slowly turns his head, looking from Seungmin’s flushed face to Hyunjin, who is currently chewing on the end of his pencil while staring absently out the window. Minho clicks his tongue. "Sure. And I'm the CEO of the biggest entertainment company. Keep lying to yourself. Just don't do it in front of the pastry display."
When 4:30 finally arrives, Seungmin practically flees the café, desperate to escape Minho’s piercing, mocking gaze.
The walk home is a stark contrast to the chaotic morning. The sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in deep bruises of purple and navy. The suburban streets are mostly empty, bathed in the artificial glow of streetlamps.
They walk side-by-side in a comfortable silence. The sound of their sneakers hitting the pavement is the only noise between them. There is no pressure to fill the air. Occasionally, Hyunjin will point a finger at a strange-looking stray cat darting into an alley, or Seungmin will make a dry comment about a poorly parked car.
As they turn the final corner, the massive wrought iron gates of the university dormitories come into view. The night air has grown colder, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and approaching rain.
Hyunjin's footsteps slow down, dragging against the concrete, until he eventually stops walking just a few yards from the gate.
Seungmin takes two more steps before realizing he is alone. He turns around.
Hyunjin is standing under the yellow halo of a streetlamp. He has his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his oversized sweater, his shoulders hunched inward. He refuses to meet Seungmin’s eyes, staring intently at a crack in the sidewalk.
"I was actually really sad this morning," Hyunjin admits. His voice is incredibly small, barely carrying over the distance between them.
Seungmin feels his stomach drop. The guilt he had pushed away all afternoon rushes back with a vengeance.
"Hyunjin, I'm sorry," Seungmin steps closer, his tone laced with genuine regret. "Felix called me about a massive error in our data, and I just panicked. I ran out before I could even check the time. I completely forgot to turn it off."
Hyunjin’s head snaps up, his eyes widening in instant, frantic alarm. He pulls his hands out of his pockets, waving them wildly in the air.
"No! No, Seungmin, that's not—I'm not blaming you!" Hyunjin stammers, stepping forward to close the gap. "I don't expect you to do it. You shouldn't have to do it."
Hyunjin stops right in front of Seungmin. The golden light from the streetlamp casts deep, shifting shadows across his face. He bites his lip, visibly wrestling with the words stuck in his throat.
"That's exactly why I'm sad and feeling sorry," Hyunjin continues, his voice softening into a vulnerable murmur. "I realized today that I've been taking you for granted. Waking up to that awful noise... it reminded me how much effort you put into making sure I start my day okay. You make my mornings better. You make my moods better. And I just... I really appreciate it. I appreciate you."
A heavy, electric stillness settles over the sidewalk.
Hyunjin’s gaze drops to the collar of Seungmin’s jacket. Even in the dim lighting, Seungmin can clearly see the violent, furious blush rapidly spreading across Hyunjin’s cheeks, burning all the way down his neck. He looks exposed, shifting his weight nervously from side to side.
Seungmin just nods slowly, his brain struggling to catch up.
I appreciate you.
It is a simple phrase, but the way Hyunjin said it, breathless and stripped of any defense, feels monumental. It isn't just about the alarm anymore. It is about the coffee, the walking, the waiting. Slowly, the pieces begin to click together in Seungmin’s mind.
Suddenly, Minho’s dry, mocking voice echoes loudly in the back of his head.
Keep lying to yourself.
Oh.
The realization hits Seungmin like a brick on his face. The air suddenly feels too thin to breathe. A rush of intense, searing heat floods his own chest, rising rapidly until it hits his face. He is acutely aware of how close they are standing, of the faint smell of lemon clinging to Hyunjin’s clothes.
Hyunjin finally dares to look up through his eyelashes. He catches the bright red flush spreading across Seungmin’s ears.
For a long moment, neither of them speaks. They just stand there under the streetlamp, two idiots realizing the exact same terrifying, wonderful thing at the exact same time.
A small shy smile breaks across Hyunjin’s face. It tugs at the corners of his mouth, lighting up his eyes.
Seungmin can't help it. A matching smile mirrors onto his own features. He clears his throat, completely failing to sound casual.
"Let's go inside," Seungmin suggests softly. "It's getting late."
"Okay," Hyunjin whispers back.
They turn and walk through the wrought iron gate together. The path to the dorm building is narrow. They don't hold hands, and they don't say another word, but with every other step, the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater brushes gently against the sleeve of Seungmin’s jacket.
And neither of them pulls away.