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Ahn Keonho knew Eom Seonghyeon from high school. Even though their interests were distinct, they were in the same homeroom class, so it was pretty much inevitable that Keonho would take an interest in the handsome, reserved top scorer of their grade. He had been partially crushed after finding out that Seonghyeon was interested in medicine because that meant he would be in a completely different building—and that was if they even went to the same university.
Unfortunately, he was too shy to make a move in high school. Keonho watched Seonghyeon with teary eyes during their graduation as the older one walked down the stage to receive his certificate for completing years of secondary schooling. He would make it far. Keonho knew that for sure. Seonghyeon was intelligent and capable, and most importantly, he actually cared about his future. It was insane how many times Keonho had walked into the library and seen the other boy with his head down, focused on his books.
He later realised medical school was expensive as fuck, and that was saying a lot because Keonho’s family was rather affluent. Both his parents had well-paying jobs, and there were only two children, so there was plenty to go around, but he was still shocked by the list of expenses he saw on the university website while searching for his own degree in practical dance.
Keonho didn’t think too much about it because he didn’t know anything about Seonghyeon’s financial situation—not like it was any of his business considering they had only shared a very limited amount of coincidental conversations anyway—and there was no guarantee he would even see the other boy ever again, so he scrolled past and forgot about it pretty soon after.
His parents, though the decision was mostly pushed forward by his older sister, had decided to purchase Keonho a dorm room at his university. It was under the guise of it being easier for him to stay close without needing to travel back and forth between his home and university, but Keonho understood the underlying message loud and clear. No matter how close their family bond was, he needed to learn independence since he was entering adulthood.
Yes, he would miss his parents and even his sister, but they had splurged a little on him and bought one of the more luxurious dorm rooms that honestly looked better than most apartments he had seen. They helped him move in, and Keonho convinced himself it would be fine, especially since he didn’t have to split with any roommates, so there wouldn’t be any conflict, and he could live personally and just focus on surviving university without breaking any bones.
Or at least that was the plan until one night, after he had returned from class, when he came across a social media post about dorm listings while scrolling on his phone. It wasn’t particularly eye-catching, but Keonho was exhausted, so he hadn’t really been paying attention to any of the previous posts either. The only reason he paused was that this one had his university’s logo on it.
OFFICIAL NOTICE: SEARCHING FOR STUDENT HOUSING AVAILABILITY
All official university dormitories are currently at full capacity, so the housing office has no vacant rooms or open spaces left for the upcoming term. We are asking current students if you have an empty bed, a vacant room, or an upcoming sublet available in your off-campus apartment or on-campus suite. A fellow student is currently looking for a place to live and cannot find an official room assignment.
Kindly check if your room, apartment, or shared house has an extra space for one more student. If you have an open spot or know of one nearby, please immediately contact us using the university contact details or the student’s number that we have included below with the monthly cost, address or building name, and the date the room is ready.
Eom Seonghyeon
010-XXXX-XXXX
Keonho furrowed his brow as he skim-read the notice. University had started a few weeks ago, and someone still didn’t have their housing figured out? It was only when he reached the second-to-last line that he jerked upright, any trace of exhaustion leaving his body as his eyes widened. He blinked at his phone, unable to believe what he had just read.
Eom Seonghyeon? Eom wasn’t exactly a common last name, and getting Seonghyeon’s number this easily sounded too good to be true, but it was an opportunity he wasn’t going to pass on. There was no way he was going to let this opening go to waste if this really was the same Seonghyeon that he had the biggest crush on in high school.
keonho: hi
Maybe that wasn’t the best first impression, but he’d like to confirm that it was actually his Seonghyeon first before he handed over his dorm address to a potential stranger. His sister had taught him better than to do that. A few minutes passed when his phone buzzed in his hand.
seonghyeon: hello
seonghyeon: who is this?
keonho: i got your number from the uni’s housing notice
seonghyeon: right
seonghyeon: if you have any space, even if it’s just for an air mattress in the corner of your room, i would very much appreciate it
seonghyeon: if you want the dorm to yourself during the day, i can study at the library. i only need a place to sleep
Keonho felt a hand squeeze around his heart. Even if this wasn’t the same Seonghyeon, he sounded so… desperate. He felt bad instantly, but it really wasn’t the best idea to allow a stranger into his dorm room—technically, his Seonghyeon was also a stranger, but Keonho would easily make an exception for him. He held his breath as he typed out one final question.
keonho: can i ask what you study?
seonghyeon: i’m a first year med student
Oh, fuck. What were the chances that there was another Eom Seonghyeon in South Korea who had gotten into medicine? Near impossible, was what Keonho decided. But he didn’t want to scare Seonghyeon off, so he played it cool as he sent his response.
keonho: oh nice
keonho: i have a spare room you can stay in
keonho: it’s an on-campus dorm
seonghyeon: really?
seonghyeon: thank you so much
keonho: yeah i’ll send you the address rn
keonho: the room is empty, so you can move in whenever
seonghyeon: is it okay if i come by tonight?
keonho: sure it’s fine with me
And that’s how Keonho came face-to-face with Eom Seonghyeon, who was awkwardly standing at the door of his dorm with a single suitcase next to him. When they made contact, recognition flickered in Seonghyeon’s eyes.
“Keonho?” Seonghyeon ventured.
Keonho could barely believe that Seonghyeon had recognised who he was, but he offered a small smile and a nod as he stepped to the side to let him in. Keonho shut the door and turned to face Seonghyeon, but the older one was glancing around. He had stared at Seonghyeon enough in high school to be able to read his expression and understand that he was taken aback.
“Is everything okay?” Keonho asked slowly, not wanting to startle him.
Seonghyeon swallowed, and Keonho watched his throat work as he fought for words. “Sorry. It’s fine, just wasn’t what I was expecting.”
Panic momentarily filled Keonho. He had done a quick clean earlier, not that his dorm was dirty in the first place, but he wanted it to look as presentable as possible for Seonghyeon. “Do you not like it?” he probed gently, unsure. “I—I can show you your room if you want to see that before you make a decision.”
“No, no,” Seonghyeon said quickly. “I, uh, my previous housing situation wasn’t great. It was nothing compared to this, so I guess my expectations had dropped significantly.”
“Oh.” Keonho let out a soft exhale of relief, but now he was curious. “Was it really that bad?”
Seonghyeon’s grimace was enough of an answer, but he explained anyway. “Kind of, yeah. There was mould everywhere; he constantly brought his hookups over and left the place a mess in general.”
“What?” Keonho blurted out as his jaw dropped open. “Why didn’t you leave sooner? That sounds horrible.”
The other boy shook his head. “I didn’t have much of a choice. I had no idea I was signing up for all that when I agreed to room with him. I had a lot to discuss with the housing office because there were no vacancies in the dorms and I couldn’t afford to purchase my own apartment.”
Keonho felt his heart ache at the recount. Seonghyeon didn’t deserve to go through all that. “On the topic of rent—”
“I know what I just said, but I decided that getting a part-time job would be easier than having to deal with his mess, so you don’t have to worry about that. I promise my rent payments will come on time, no matter how high they are,” Seonghyeon interjected.
For a few seconds, Keonho just blinked at him, unable to decide whether he wanted to smack him on the head or kiss him. “You’re insane,” he muttered. “Juggling a part-time job and your studies as a med student is crazy.”
Seonghyeon pursed his lips and nodded slowly. “Yeah, but I don’t really have another option.”
The cogs in Keonho’s brain turned as he considered the situation. He was comfortable covering the rent by himself—though he hadn’t exactly told his family about inviting Seonghyeon to room with him—so he didn’t see the need for Seonghyeon to overwork himself to the bone.
“What if you just didn’t pay rent?” Keonho suggested.
The older boy’s eyes widened in horror. “No, that’s so unfair. I can’t expect that from you. I won’t agree to that.”
Keonho bit his lip, realising they would need a compromise. “Then, can you cook?”
Seonghyeon raised an eyebrow at the random question. “I can… Why?”
“What if, as your rent for staying here, you cook a meal for me every now and then? My family has fully paid off my rent for this year anyway, so you can focus on your studies instead of picking up a part-time job.”
“I’m not sure that’s a fair trade,” Seonghyeon muttered.
“It is,” Keonho protested. “I can’t cook to save my life, and I miss having home-cooked meals, so you’d be doing me a huge favour—well, technically two because I wouldn’t burn down the dorm by accident and my health would be saved from eating instant ramen or takeaway every night.”
Seonghyeon sighed. “Listen, Keonho. That sounds more than great to me, but only if you’re certain. I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness.”
And that is how Keonho and Seonghyeon became roommates. It was a coincidence, but Keonho would like to think it was fate doing its job. In the following few months, they had developed a stable routine that both of them understood without having to say anything out loud. If one of them ordered takeout, they ordered enough for the other person. Even when Seonghyeon had light nights out, he would come back to a takeout container waiting to be heated up in the microwave.
Sometimes they would order and eat together. On some days, Seonghyeon cooked while Keonho set up the table and cleaned. If they were home at the same time, Keonho would sit on the counter, legs dangling off the edge, as he watched Seonghyeon get fully immersed in preparing their food. At first, Keonho was worried he might find it awkward to be watched, but Seonghyeon reassured him that he didn’t mind the company, so he stayed.
Whenever possible, they even went shopping together. Seonghyeon would push the trolley, picking out their necessities to survive the month, while Keonho would discreetly add in the items Seonghyeon stared at for a moment too long but didn’t dare take off the shelf. Keonho was the one paying for everything anyway, so he took every chance he could to treat Seonghyeon to small things he wanted rather than needed.
There were nights when Keonho would wake up, groggy, to find Seonghyeon’s light still on. He would enter the older one’s room, only to find him studying when he should be sleeping if he wanted his brain cells to survive—Keonho found it a little funny how medical students learned about how important health is but forgot to apply their knowledge to themselves. He would ignore Seonghyeon’s weak protests as he took out the other boy’s AirPods, placing them carefully in their case, before gently pushing him towards his bed. Seonghyeon always thanked him the next morning anyway.
When they got busy, communication was done through either a text or a sticky note. Keonho preferred the second option because they were tangible evidence of their growing relationship that he collected in a little box in his room. They ranged from don’t skip breakfast to i saw your laptop was dead, so i plugged it in to charge to i walked past the cafe you frequent, and i bought your favourite strawberry latte. it’s in your room.
His feelings for Seonghyeon hadn’t disappeared. If anything, they had tripled in size with how patient and gentle Seonghyeon was with him. He would’ve loved to make a move, but he was satisfied with their roommateship for now, and he wasn’t sure that dumping years of hidden feelings out of nowhere was the greatest idea ever. Instead of the romantic relationship that Keonho had once hoped for in high school, he was surprisingly happy with how quickly and easily they became friends.
Though both of them were busy with their own lives, they made time to hang out with each other, even if it was a small conversation during dinner. Seonghyeon never failed to check on Keonho, especially when he came back from his dance classes, whining about his sore muscles. The older boy would shake his head fondly but massaged the pain away without Keonho having to ask. He didn’t want to cross that carefully crafted line and ruin whatever it was that they had built together.
🩹
The door clicked shut with a softness that didn’t match the weight sitting in Seonghyeon’s chest. He slipped his shoes off, but he didn’t bother turning on the corridor light. The glow coming from his room was enough to guide his path there without tripping over any of their furniture. With how hazy his mind was, he assumed that Keonho was already asleep and Seonghyeon had just left his room’s light on before he left their dorm.
But then he trudged to the doorway and found Keonho on his bed. The younger boy wasn’t asleep like he had initially expected. He didn’t look up to meet Seonghyeon’s gaze, because his thumb kept moving across his phone screen. The glow reflected in his eyes as Keonho lay stretched across Seonghyeon’s bed, one arm tucked under his head, the other with the phone resting loosely across his stomach.
Keonho had clearly showered because he was in pyjamas and his hair was fluffy—making it spread out across the pillow like a halo, and in the state Seonghyeon’s brain was in, he might as well have been looking at an angel—and some strands fell onto his face, framing it perfectly. Seonghyeon stood there, staring for longer than would be considered socially acceptable, taking in the sight of him in fragments he always did when he was this tired.
He knew that he should say something. A greeting, at least. Maybe ask why Keonho was in his room, on his bed, like this was normal, even though Seonghyeon didn’t mind one bit. But his body moves before any more thoughts can fully form. Before he could think it through, before he could put distance back where it belonged, his feet were already moving.
The younger boy looked up after hearing the rustle of fabric, just before Seonghyeon reached him. There was a brief flicker of confusion—barely there, barely processed—before it disappeared under the sudden warmth of arms wrapping around him. Seonghyeon didn’t hesitate as he climbed onto the bed and pulled Keonho into his embrace, one arm sliding around Keonho’s shoulders, the other settling at his waist, drawing him closer until there wasn’t any space left between them.
Keonho went completely still in his arms. His mind went haywire, trying to catch up to what was happening. His phone slipped out of his slackened grip, falling onto the bed next to him, the screen still lit with a reel he had somewhat been paying attention to, now forgotten as he processed the reality of their tangled limbs.
Seonghyeon didn’t, couldn’t, think about anything else. He only knew that the moment he saw Keonho—all pretty, comfortable, unguarded, existing in his space like that was exactly where he belonged—something in him gave way. His day had consisted of lectures that blurred into each other, notes that stopped making sense halfway through class, and the pressure of expectations stacking up. He had held it together through all of it, kept moving forward because stopping wasn’t something he allowed himself to do. Until now.
He pressed his face into the space just beneath Keonho’s ear, into his hair, and took in a deep breath. Keonho also let out an exhale he didn’t realise he had been holding, hands hovering before resting lightly against Seonghyeon’s back as his body relaxed into the embrace. He hugged him back, allowing Seonghyeon to drop more of his weight onto him like a warm, weighted blanket.
They stayed there like that for a while before Seonghyeon rolled onto his side, shifting them into a more comfortable position, not letting Keonho go for even a second. Seonghyeon’s nose brushed against the top of Keonho’s head, and that was when he noticed it properly.
“You used my shampoo,” Seonghyeon murmured into his hair, his voice soft and husky from exhaustion.
Keonho blinked, momentarily thrown off by the normalcy of the comment in contrast to everything else. “I—yeah. Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Seonghyeon inhaled again, slower this time, confirming that the scent was indeed from the vanilla-scented shampoo he had been using recently. “I like it.” There was a small pause before he added, “You smell like me.”
Keonho’s heartbeat picked up, enough that he was sure Seonghyeon could hear it through the thin fabric between them, though his body stayed still. He didn’t know what to do with that information. He didn’t know what Seonghyeon meant by it, or if he even meant anything at all. He had imagined being close like this before, more times than he would ever admit, but never like this, never without warning, never with the other boy initiating it.
“Seonghyeon…?”
“Mhm,” Seonghyeon hummed in response. It was barely a response, more of a breath than a word.
Keonho swallowed past the sudden dryness in his throat. “Are you okay?”
Seonghyeon exhaled against his skin, the warm brush of air sending a tingle down Keonho’s spine. “I’m just tired,” he admitted finally.
It wasn’t the full truth, but it was the only part he could put into words without unpacking everything sitting in his chest, and he didn’t have the energy for that right now. Not when having Keonho in his arms had done more than enough to quiet his racing thoughts.
“You should’ve told me you were coming back late,” Keonho mumbled, though there was no real complaint in it.
He couldn’t see his face from the position they were in, so he thought Seonghyeon had fallen asleep until Seonghyeon hummed again, the sound vibrating faintly where their bodies met. “I didn’t know. I would’ve texted if I did.”
Keonho nodded in response, even though the older one couldn’t exactly see it.
There was a moment of silence that Keonho didn’t know if he should fill before Seonghyeon broke the silence, his voice stripped of his usual composure. “Can we stay like this for a bit?”
Keonho didn’t need time to think about his response. “Okay,” he said softly.
They stayed like that for long enough that a peaceful silence took over and the tension eased from Seonghyeon’s shoulders. His breathing evened out against Keonho’s neck, slow and steady, the warmth of it grounding in a way that made Keonho’s thoughts blur at the edges.
Keonho stared at nothing in particular, his gaze unfocused as he became aware of every small detail—the weight of Seonghyeon’s arm around his waist, the faint brush of his fingers against the fabric of his shirt, the way his heart beat in a rhythm that Keonho found himself unconsciously matching.
He swallowed, shifting ever so slightly, enough that their faces were no longer buried against each other’s shoulders so he could see Seonghyeon’s face. The movement was small and careful not to disturb the moment, but the space between them was close enough that Keonho could feel the warmth of Seonghyeon’s breath against his lips now.
Seonghyeon opened his eyes, just enough to look at Keonho, his eyelids still heavy with exhaustion. Keonho’s heart stuttered in his chest, loud and embarrassing, and he wondered if Seonghyeon could feel it, if he could tell how quickly everything inside him was unravelling just from being this close.
He held the eye contact, not saying a word, but then his gaze dropped a little lower to Keonho’s lips. Seonghyeon leaned in without a second thought. The contact was so soft that Keonho almost thought he imagined it at first—a light press, only a few seconds long, more a brush of their lips than anything else—but it was enough to make Keonho’s breath catch in his throat.
Then Seonghyeon pulled back, eyes still half-lidded, but there was a small smile on his face, and there was a flicker of something in his expression that hadn’t been there before, or maybe it was something that had always been there but had never surfaced like this, not noticeable enough to Keonho. As if the moment had taken whatever energy he had left, he closed his eyes again and moved closer, tucking his face back into Keonho’s hair, his arm tightening around him.
Keonho stayed frozen for another minute or so as Seonghyeon’s breathing evened out, his weight settling fully against Keonho as he had finally allowed himself to rest. His mind was a mess, but the warmth radiating off Seonghyeon’s body was soothing, and Keonho followed not long after, sleep coming easier than it had in months.