Chapter Text
Still Winter
Minho is the first to ditch their group in the snow, needing to prepare for the same interview he told Seungmin about earlier. He walks back to the dorm by himself, normally at first, then stomping once he’s sure he’s out of their sight – tiny and fuming in a way that isn’t befitting of any coolest guy at school titles.
Somehow, Seungmin had kissed him first. Kim Seungmin, who blushed and squirmed every time Minho had merely smiled in his direction, had somehow gained the upper hand on him. Leaving Minho very literally pinned and wordless, back flat against snow, his skin still cold now as he peels the wet clothes off.
He changes into his dress shirt and tie in a huff, skimming his notes on the school he’s speaking with in between throwing clothes around. He’s always been distracted preparing for these, but nothing compares to how he rage-reviews this university’s art program today.
Seungmin kissed him, all while Minho’s been scurrying around the dorm these past few weeks, like a skittish cat, unable to do anything but run away. It’s not all his fault; he hasn’t made a serious move because he doesn’t want to make a scene with the other prefectees. Changbin would scoff at that excuse, of course, and ask why that couldn’t stop Minho from flirting with Seungmin in the middle of every public space they’ve been in.
Because that was the easy part, obviously. Minho is good at teasing. He’s great at turning on charm and navigating light-hearted conversations. Feelings don’t need to play a role in his day-to-day; he prefers handling life as it comes, rather than dwelling on his emotions about it. That’s why his “confessions” to Seungmin have all been overly flirty or playful, deliberately difficult to accept sincerely or lead to any serious conversation that would require Minho to explain what the fuck he meant by that.
That is all to say, Minho has no interest in being an asshole either. He knows Seungmin deserves to know he genuinely means everything he’s said, and he knows that he can’t rely on dragging him into his room and pulling Seungmin into his lap for the rest of the semester in hopes he’ll just figure it out. At the very least, he needs to make a move so Changbin and Chan stop hounding him.
“Why do Hyunjin and Felix keep making jokes about recycling bins?” Changbin asks, pulling out a dining hall chair. The legs shriek against the hardwood from the force, Chan’s laugh following the noise right after.
“Did they join the environmental club?” Minho cackles, unconcerned as he stirs his bibimbap. He turns to look at Changbin and chews innocently.
Changbin glares back for a moment, before letting his shoulders relax.
“You’ve been talking a lot for someone who’s obsessed with Kim Seungmin,” he lilts. “I’m sure my prefectees would love to hear about that too.”
Minho scoffs, even if it comes out a beat too late. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He scoops more rice into his mouth.
“Sure, dude.” Changbin rolls his eyes. Chan gently lets him know they’ll be around if he ever wants to talk about it.
There’s nothing to talk about though, because Minho is not obsessed with Seungmin. Minho only enjoys going out of his way to tease Seungmin and considers everyday what could possibly make him blush, because he finds his reactions addictingly adorable. That was not the same thing as obsession.
These past few weeks, while Minho fought futile battles in his head and avoided the focus of his non-obsession around campus, Seungmin ended up kissing him with an unbound confidence that Minho didn’t even realize he had.
He bundles up again to head to his interview, trying to concentrate. Except as soon as he’s outside, he feels the icy ghost of Seungmin’s lips on his all over again. Stupidly, he hopes they kiss in the spring, so he’ll think of him there anytime it’s warm too.
While the other students head to the dining hall in their comfortable weekend wear, Minho enters their university counseling center in his stuffy suit. The interview starts with a handshake and then bores on, while Minho’s thoughts fluctuate from the size of Seungmin’s hands, to how much he’d rather work post-graduation than continue school. He doesn’t know what he’d focus further studies in, other than dance – which feels like he’d have a much better shot at career wise the sooner he got his feet wet in the industry.
After several arguments with his parents last semester, he agreed to at least send some university applications in. It’s mostly been a waste of time, doubly exhausting when he’s simultaneously been auditioning for dance troupes, companies, teaching studios, any work he can find.
Both the interview and the rest of the weekend end unceremoniously, and Minho slugs through Monday classes, still no closer to a plan for confessing to Seungmin. Maybe he doesn’t need an elaborate plan to one-up his kiss. He can just knock on his door and demand that he be his boyfriend. A little pitiful, but it could work fine.
On Tuesday morning, there’s American breakfast being served when he stops by the dining hall. Specifically, there are heart-shaped pancakes and strawberry cream pastries that make him realize what day it is.
Shit. He can’t quite ask Seungmin to be his boyfriend on Valentine’s Day, can he? He’s not ready for something so…feelings-y. It’d be too cheesy, right? Or…would Seungmin turn so red, like the heart decorations draped above the tables, it’d make it completely worth it? Minho might drive himself crazy just imagining his face.
Seungmin aside, he expects the day to pass mildly as a senior, considering he’s never properly responded to confessions or returned anyone’s feelings as boys would on White Day. Yet, that doesn’t seem to stop anyone.
The first bag of chocolates he receives after breakfast, paired with a sweet note, Minho humbly thanks. He stashes them in his backpack on the way to dance composition. When the class ends, another girl is lingering in the foyer with even more chocolates, truffles weighing down a huge gift bag that he’ll have to embarrassingly carry in the open all the way to his next period. Felix rummages through it after she leaves, breathing out an impressed wow hyung, these are homemade!
When he gets to lunch, a student from his literature class last semester presents him with a pink rose in the middle of the hall. Not to be impolite, and a little bit for show, he breaks the thornless stem and keeps the rose in his blazer pocket. It seems to make her happy.
“You look like such a douchebag,” Changbin says as Minho sits down, as if he doesn’t have plenty of gifts himself, spread out on their table proudly.
“I think it’s cute on you, Minho,” Chan offers. Minho rolls his eyes at both of them indiscriminately.
“Bro thinks he’s Tamaki Suoh,” Jisung says, walking up to the senior table with Seungmin hovering a step behind him. Minho tells him he figured they were more like Mori and Honey senpai.
As Jisung sidles closer to Chan, asking him to unwrap a truffle for him like he doesn’t have two hands himself, he catches Seungmin obviously eyeing the rose on his chest.
“No chocolates from you today, Seungminnie?” Minho asks. Like most of his lines, it’s mostly a joke.
“I’m not a girl,'' Seungmin says, looking at the flower still. Minho is surprised it doesn’t shred into ribbons right there, the way he’s staring daggers at it. So cute. Minho steels himself, trying not to be distracted by the puff of his cheeks.
“Oh,” Minho reaches into the big bag next to him, taking out one of the chocolates wrapped in pink cellophane. Traditionally, Valentine’s was for girls to give gifts, but…“I didn’t think you’d care so much about semantics, Seungmin. When it came to me at least.”
He hears Seungmin’s sharp inhale. “Please don’t eat those, hyung.”
And Minho doesn’t even have a chance to respond, because Seungmin’s already snatching the chocolate out of his hand.
Minho giggles, has to hold himself back from not throwing his head back and laughing it off. Seugmin’s jealous, and way too adorable like this.
“I don’t want to waste them,” Minho taunts to see if he can push it a little further. When else would he get a chance like this? To see Seungmin standing in front of him, seething over some sweets from people he barely talks to, or knows, or will ever get the chance to spare another thought about when Seungmin is the one always on his mind.
“Well,” Seungmin starts, stubborn. “I know friends who would be happy to enjoy some, so hand them over.”
Minho is cackling, but he gives in.
He makes sure to grab every chocolate he received today, even the ones rolling at the bottom of his backpack. He puts them all together in the huge gift bag (sorry to the girl outside the dance studio) and hands them all over to his sweetest prefectee (sorry, this time to the rest of his residence hall, because he definitely has a favorite).
Seungmin marches away to the junior section of the hall, pulling along a yelping Jisung, who was sadly so close to sitting on Chan’s lap, with him as well.
Later in the evening, Minho’s in his familiar position – settled into the common room couch checking his dorm in. He’s giving everyone a brief nod as they filter in before looking back to his laptop, so no one really talks with him further tonight. It gives him more flexibility, to surreptitiously switch between a CS problem set and the game schedule of the school’s baseball team. If he had also saved Seungmin’s roster picture, with his dorky close-lipped smile and navy cap, no one would know.
But that was two hours ago. Usually by now, Minho would have been clearing out the spot next to him so he could sit. This was his favorite activity between assignments as of late, especially when he could stretch his legs over Seungmin’s lap, and watch him try to concentrate on talking even when there was blush high on his cheek.
Anyway, today was Valentine’s Day. Shouldn’t Seungmin want to spend more time with him? Was the five-minute conversation at lunch good enough for him?
At 9:55 pm, Minho starts getting impatient, bouncing his leg, probably glaring at his computer screen. Everyone who arrives in the last few minutes skitters to their rooms faster than the residents before.
Until finally, and Minho should write him up for detention for late check-in, Seungmin stumbles in. A plastic bag hanging off his elbow, swaying from the force he burst through the door with.
“Relax, Seungmin.” Seeing him now, Minho goes from annoyed to relieved to smug, shoving the textbooks beside him to make space. “You’re only a couple minutes over.”
Some of the tension leaves Seungmin’s shoulders as he rolls his backpack off them, making his way to the couch.
“That’s not why I was rushing.”
Minho makes an offended noise. “Okay, well, I could still let your dean know–”
“Hyung,” Seungmin groans, which makes Minho smile. “Stop. Just…”
Seungmin’s knee knocks into his as he opens the bag between them. Inside are three chocolates, rounded hearts, all different shades. Seungmin takes a deep inhale, before letting out all in one breath–
“I like you the most, Minho hyung, more than anyone else, so you don’t need any other chocolates even if I only managed a few, you should only accept these today.”
Minho blinks rapidly, frozen except for his heart slamming against the ice.
I like you the most. More than anyone else.
“Where…did you even get these?” he asks very slowly.
Seungmin’s pushes on, unbothered. “I made them in Felix's dorm. He and Jeongin helped. I didn’t even know what kind you liked so… those are dark, milk, and white. There are less nice-looking ones too, but–”
“I don’t care,” Minho cuts him off, ears burning. He’s still staring at the sweets, hard and unrelenting, unable to look up yet as he processes everything Seungmin’s said. “You need to give them to me. I’m going to eat all of them.”
Seungmin might know by now, that Minho is shy, far shyer than him, that he isn’t cocky as he pretends to come across when it comes to anything as real as this. He probably knows Minho’s weakness, which is just how incredibly weak he is for him.
“Hyung, we should, you should be my–ow!”
Minho smacks one hand over Seungmin’s mouth, wraps the other around his shoulders as his senses thaw and return to him.
“No.”
“Mmhmf?” Seungmin tries. Minho moves his hand down a few centimeters, palm moist from Seungmin’s breath. “No? Why not?”
Because you kissed me first, because now you confessed before me too, because I’ve been trying to ask you out properly for an entire year now.
“I have something planned,” Minho supplies. Seungmin, brat he is, gives him a weird, unconvinced look. Minho cups his chin, squeezes his cheeks between his fingers until he grimaces instead. “So think hard about your answer, Seungminnie.”
Seungmin stares back, holding his gaze even though his lips are all pouty within Minho’s grip.
Then he swivels his head to take a look around the room, before tugging Minho’s wrist down and leaning in for a kiss.
Minho squeaks in surprise, eyes fluttering shut as Seungmin keeps kissing him. Seungmin tastes like cocoa and is so, deliciously eager, breaking away just before Minho gives in to the urge to knock him back against the cushions, seconds from pinning his waist and kissing him senseless.
“I already know,” Seungmin says when they part.
As he leaves for his room, Minho tries to wrap his mind around what their conversation was even about, then tries to recall who was supposed to be the one with all the leverage here.
Spring
The first week of March, when the last, stubborn piles of muddy snow had melted and the lawns were beginning to green for an early spring, Minho asks an unsuspecting Hyunjin to come to his dorm after Saturday brunch. There are plum blossom buds queued on the branches on the walk over, waiting to cover campus in another snowfall of spinning petals. But without the tickle of pollen in his nose, Minho figures it’s the best time to stop by the baseball team’s friendly.
Yes, he would do it today; he has to do this today. He makes Hyunjin promise to not laugh before they enter his room, or say aww more than once unless he wants one of his four twiggy limbs snapped.
Minho pushes him inside, to where there’s a blank poster board and a handful of markers, borrowed indefinitely from the library, scattered on the floor.
“I need your help,” Minho admits, sinking to the carpet. Hyunjin follows suit. “I need to bring this to Seungmin’s game.”
“Aww!” Hyunjin coos, immediately hitting his warning quota. “Is this how you’re asking him out? Hyung, he’s gonna die. What if he gets distracted though?”
“I’ll ask him after,” Minho says, embarrassed enough already even though he hasn’t yet said the cheesy stuff he needs Hyunjin to review. He coughs. “Is ‘KSM, I think you’re a catch’ too much?”
He decides that thinking about how to talk to Seungmin, in the comfort of his own mind, is far better than discussing him out loud to his junior friends. Hyunjin giggles way too much for Minho’s liking as they go through poster ideas, and is remains unfazed by Minho’s glaring while he draws. Minho wishes he was enjoying this less, and would stop alternating between calling him the core of romance or irredeemably cringeworthy.
Hyunjin also offers to pilfer through Seungmin’s closet for one of his jerseys, presumably so Minho could wear one to his games. Minho doesn’t respond to him, but files the idea away for another time. Seungmin’s reaction would be too good to pass up.
After they both realize neither of them have enough baseball knowledge to think of a decent pun – they decide on “KIM SEUNGMIN, FIGHTING” on one side of the paper, and a bold “#11, you’re handsome ♡ ,” on the other, just to embarrass him. That’s generally been Minho’s strategy to flirt, and it hasn't failed him yet.
When they arrive at the field during the second inning, Seungmin’s easy to spot, standing at the pitcher’s mound, looking especially tall in navy pinstripes. As Minho rounds his way to the bleachers, he gets an eyeful of how the pants are cutely tight along his butt. Admittedly, his mouth also goes a little dry when Seungmin lifts his leg up before throwing the ball.
It’s the third strike, he realizes belatedly as people clap. His form is all practiced angles, tension and release, and Minho gets too lost admiring to keep up with the rules. And smiling every time he remembers that guy on the field was his to admire. Awe and pride bloom under his shirt, little daisies in his chest as he watches.
The inning ends without the opposing team getting a point, and Minho shouts with everyone else while flapping the poster around. He doesn’t expect Seungmin to notice, but there he is, turning towards the crowd, trying to see despite the shadow the cap casts on his face. Minho knows when he spots him, when Seungmin smiles wide and waves like an excited puppy even though he’s in the middle of the game.
Minho bites the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t think he’s seen anything more adorable.
Another inning, one of their team’s batters gets on first, and Seungmin gets to third near the bleachers where they are. Minho’s not going to distract him, of course. But maybe the game’s gone on for a while, maybe he’s down to the last of the drink Felix shared with him, and maybe he wouldn’t mind some attention from the team’s star player.
Strike. Minho eyes the batter. They need a clean hit so Seungmin can run to home base and throw finger hearts at him. And so their team can get another point, or whatever.
Foul ball. Minho leans forward in anticipation. Hyunjin puts his phone down to pause from snapping photos of Seungmin leading off base.
The opposing team’s pitcher throws a fastball in the strike zone, and Minho’s jaw tightens, but then there’s the satisfying crack of the bat making contact. The ball soars past the range of the outfielder, giving Seungmin enough time to run home.
He stands with the rest of the bleachers, clapping and cheering as Seungmin crosses the plate and his teammates get on base.
Before he can turn to high-five the rest of the dugout, Minho gets louder, still riding the high.
“Kim Seungmin!” he shouts. He waves the sign, the side that tells him and the entire field how hot he thinks he is.
Seungmin looks up and squints. He’s motionless reading for a moment. Then he’s looking at the ground, shaking his head in disbelief, smiling like an idiot. Minho grins.
He looks back at Minho and the sign, like he needs to check to see if it’s real.
“You’re crazy,” Minho swears he mouths, before finally sitting back down with his team.
And Minho is, but at the end of the game, he’s still the one who gets to chase down the team’s pitcher, snatch his hat off and put it on his own head. More than anything, he wants Seungmin to be his, stuck to him like pollen on a bee, Minho buzzing and golden in it.
He tells Seungmin that based on his deep knowledge of baseball, (hearing people talk about change-up pitches and hovering over Hyunjin’s Naver searches) he was by far the best. Even if baseball games are unnecessarily long, and that it could have been five innings instead of nine.
“But you were very good,” Minho assures again, patting the arm he considered noodly and unassuming until today. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Do you finally believe I leave the library now?”
“Of course, Seungminnie. I knew you had to practice piano.”
Seungmin rolls his eyes. There’s sun in his sweaty hat-hair, a smudge of dirt on his cheekbone for Minho to wipe with his thumb later. First though–
“You should go out with me,” Minho says, finally. He steps closer, lets his hand slip into Seungmin’s petal-soft one where it’s been waiting for him. He ignores the less than subtle noises from Hyunjin and Felix somewhere behind them.
Seungmin raises his eyebrows back playfully, even if he’s threading their fingers together.
“Wow, sunbaenim. Are you sure you want to give up all your lovers?”
“No, not all of them,” Minho says, tugging Seungmin in. He kisses him hard, where his mouth is warm from the game and spring sunshine, so familiar and yet like he’ll never have it enough.
Another Spring
If Minho talked with more people, deeper than standard greetings and polite conversation, they’d come to understand that he’s more self-conscious than he initially came across. So shy, that it took half a year and some forced proximity for him to even approach Kim Seungmin.
Chan’s saved him a spot at the arts showcase after Minho’s finished performing with the rest of the dance club. Minho’s kind of exhausted and hoping he can convince Chan to sneak out for dinner instead.
“I’m too tired,” Minho whines as stagehands help set up for the next act.
“Just sit.” He’s using his voice that leaves no room for argument. “There are only a few more.”
Minho rolls his eyes. Bang Chan probably thinks he’s doing some great favor for the underclassmen at the end of the program. Supporting youth art like he’s some trustee member and not a kid barely older than them.
The student emcee introduces a sophomore to the stage next, and that he’ll be playing a theme from Howl’s Moving Castle. Minho's ears perk a bit at the mention. It’ll be more fun to hear a song he’s familiar with at least, as opposed to Mozart or whatever pianists were into.
A boy enters in the formal blazer of their uniform, in contrast to the ripped jeans and t-shirts Minho’s troupe performed in, and takes the bench. The auditorium hushes again as he reaches for the keys.
The first few notes are slow but instantly haunting, and Minho quickly forgets about wanting to leave. The piece builds into fast staccato, then transitions into some mesmerizing, mystical combination of the two. Minho’s a dancer, but he doesn’t think he could ever move his fingers with such precision if he practiced forever.
The notes crescendo, and now Minho’s looking at the boy’s face, the tense set of his jaw, the way his eyes sweep across the keys with skilled fluidity.
When it’s over, the auditorium claps loudly. It probably wasn’t this loud when his club finished, even with the suggestive choreo featuring Minho in the center, intentionally included to hype everyone up. This is a different kind of awe, when your heart lurches forward, when there’s a chill up your arms and you almost want to cry.
A lanky kid at the front is actually crying, while simultaneously refusing to give up recording.
Piano boy seems nonchalant or oblivious to the wave of emotion in the room. He stands to bow, suddenly looking small in the middle of the stage next to the piano. He ducks his head sweetly when his friends start yelling praises.
Minho understands why the organizers saved him for last. He’s clearly talented. And this is besides the point, but Minho can’t help but notice that he’s also…very cute. Unassumingly adorable, especially his giddy smile when his friends shout louder as he leaves. He hopes he can find him after the showcase, in the art center’s foyer where the school often held receptions after performances.
After the girl’s acapella group covers Tempo for the finale, he and Chan shuffle out of the aisles and exit the area. Unlike the dim auditorium, the foyer is bright and lined with glass windows, along the walls and ceiling, almost like a greenhouse. People are already mingling by a long table that’s been set up with snacks and refreshments. As soon as Minho’s eyes adjust to the light streaming in, he starts scanning the room for piano boy’s figure.
Once he spots him, Minho focuses on looking casual, rolling his shoulders back and hoping the lemonade Chan poured for him isn’t visibly vibrating in the cup. He smooths his shirt, wishes he had a tie to fix, and waits for someone to stop talking to the fourth former before he approaches.
As soon as they walk away, Minho smoothly slides his body into the newly emptied space.
The boy’s puppy eyes widen a fraction in recognition, and Minho has to suppress a smirk. It strokes his ego – sue him, he needs the boost right now.
“I love Studio Ghibli. You were incredible.”
His gaze falters, dropping to the drink in Minho's hand after hearing the compliment – and oh. Minho can definitely make him blush next if he plays this right.
“Thank you, it’s my friend's favorite movie. I don’t know if incredible is the right word, piano is just something I do as a hobby. But sunbae, you’re–”
“You’re insane,” someone says, sidling up to them. Eric, from Minho’s dance club, claps him on the shoulder. “I didn’t get to tell you earlier.”
Minho tells him he did a great job as well. He seems to know piano boy too, asking something about baseball practice later. Minho doesn’t find the chance to talk to either of them again, as Eric’s arrival seems to invite another horde of students and faculty towards Minho to congratulate him.
The gap between them widens, their circles drifting too far, and Minho isn’t sure how to rekindle the conversation when he finally catches a break. He honestly thought he’d be better at this, unbothered like how he is speaking to anyone else on campus. But he couldn’t even get his name.
Later at dinner, Minho swipes Chan’s program from him.
Kim Seungmin – 4th former – Merry Go Round of Life (Joe Hisaishi) on Piano
For the rest of the semester, Minho latches onto all the times he hears his name, casually dropped by Felix, and the moments they pass each other on campus or in the dining hall. Sometimes Seungmin’s with friends, sometimes he’s by himself only with a mug of tea. He’s always on a mission, somewhere to head to and overachieve. He never sees the way Minho will stop in his tracks or turn his neck to watch him keep going.
Minho doesn’t have any great opportunities or reasons to approach him again. March turns into April, and he still can’t figure out how to go up to a boy, with whom he has zero known common interests or classes, and start talking. He keeps imagining saying hi to Seungmin and then nothing else being able to come out of his mouth. The thought of it makes him want to disintegrate.
Is this why people rely on pickup lines? What the fuck, would Seungmin even like that? April folds into May, cherry blossoms long gone, and Minho thinks it’s cruel how he has to constantly see him in the library while he actually needs to focus for finals.
On the last day of the semester, the universe finally throws him a bone – in the form of an email with next year’s dorm assignments, specifically the list of juniors that would be in Minho’s residence hall. He has to read it twice.
Minho still isn’t sure what he’ll say to Seungmin when they move in, but he has all summer to figure it out.