Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Autumn

Seungmin is used to moving in by his third year, no longer hit with a punch of homesickness as his family’s car disappears down the winding road and away from the small town his school is nestled in. He has friends to reunite with now, a reliable routine he’ll fall back into. Even the ache in his arms, after fighting to stretch a fitted sheet over his mattress, is classically familiar.

There are students tossing a frisbee outside Seungmin’s window, several loud voices that carry over the cicada hum. He can hear other fifth formers too, his new dormmates, greeting each other in the hallway. The first days are always like this – everyone back to school, excited and buzzing and without concern for the waning summer. Seungmin feels the same, a new year ahead, fanned out before him like the leaf of a ginkgo tree.

He fluffs his dog plush on his bed last, paws having flattened from the drive here, before finally wiping away the sweat that had gathered at the back of his neck. He sends off a text after locking his door, two words he realizes he’s been waiting to tap out all month.

I’m back

Jisung: two hours out ^^

Seungmin sinks into a couch in the common room while waiting to hear from everyone else, the cushion dipping under him way too much. Like the rest of the furniture in the dorm, he guesses it hasn’t been replaced since the ‘90s. The antique fireplace across from him is beautiful, the school’s emblem on it is probably hand-carved, but he wouldn’t turn it on without intimate knowledge of how to handle an extinguisher. For a school that boasted old money, they certainly found ways to avoid replacing anything.

According to their chat, Hyunjin and Felix were finishing up moving into the other junior dorm, across the street in an offshoot quad. That was one place where their tuition money had been going. Last year, they all walked by the construction in the area. Now the sleek, three-story residence hall is complete, though deliberately cornered away to not interfere with the brick-building aesthetic of the rest of campus. The modernity of air filters and centralized heating was terrifying to the school board, apparently.

Jisung is living only a few doors down from him at least, in the traditional junior dorm at the top of a modest hill next to the Humanities building, where the previously tight double rooms were turned into roomy singles. They wouldn’t have their first hall meeting until after dinner, so for now Seungmin is free to march out and plague their friends.

Just as he’s about to head through the front doors, they open first. A stream of late afternoon light filters into the common room, dipping it gold, and the figure stepping in is shadowed.

He doesn’t look like anyone in Seungmin’s class, yet isn’t completely unfamiliar either.

Seungmin’s eyes adjust as the door closes, and oh, what was he doing in here?

Lee Minho grins back at him. Belatedly, Seungmin realizes his own mouth is open, and that he hasn’t moved even a courteous inch to let him further inside.

“Hi,” he says warmly, unbothered by Seungmin even though he’s going to stare a hole into him at this rate. “I’m Minho.”

The introduction isn’t unnecessary. They’ve never spoken before, but everyone returning to campus today knows Minho. By the good-natured reputation and charisma that preceded him, or penchant for pulling the best pranks, or model-like looks that Seungmin could personally confirm to be true this close. Campus heartthrob, dance club center, esteemed upperclassman. Lee Minho.

It’s funny how until this moment, Seungmin’s considered the heart-eyed whisperings on how attractive he was to be dramatic. Seungmin prides himself as having two feet planted firmly on the ground – but just holding eye contact with Minho now feels like the floor is crumbling right beneath him.

“It’s nice to meet you, sunbae. Are you our prefect?” he asks, managing to figure out why a senior was in here. His nose is so straight.

“Head prefect, if you wanna be technical about it,” Minho says without missing a beat, smile playful now.

“Oh, nice. Wow.” Seungmin reacts to it in genuine awe. Already loved and lauded by students, and now he has perhaps the most impressive faculty seal of approval too. “Congrats, that’s amazing.”

“Hopefully I don’t disappoint them,” Minho says with a short giggle that doesn’t imply he’s concerned at all. He moves his arm back to push open the door so that light filters in again, illuminating the dust particles gently swirling around them. “Were you heading out?”

Seungmin nods and moves to leave, murmuring a thank you and trying not to brush against Minho’s body as he sidles past him. But a step away from escape–

“Wait, I forgot to ask your name.”

To be polite, Seungmin turns around – which leaves him with Minho’s arm against the door caging him on one side, and Minho’s face centimeters from his own.

“It’s Seungmin,” he whispers. Minho was handsome, he knew. No one told him Minho was handsome enough to render people speechless.

“You’re the first resident I met today,” he grins, oblivious to Seungmin’s internal reeling or croaky voice. “See you later tonight!”

Seungmin nods and spins back around to walk briskly to Hyunjin and Felix’s, trying to reset the pace of his heart.

By the time he reaches the quad, through quick, purposeful strides, he’s shaken off some of the shock. That the school’s arguably most popular student would be living in Seungmin’s dorm, meters away, all year. Cool.

He also can’t help but smile at the thought of sharing the information with his friends.

Seungmin takes the shiny new elevator to Hyunjin’s room, half-observing the contemporary-style beige walls and modern light fixtures down the halls. He knocks on the room number from his texts, and waits for Hyunjin to shout come in! from the other side.

Clothes and sneakers are already scattered across the floor, more outfits than anyone who was in uniform five days a week should need. Felix is lounging on his back on the bed, watching Hyunjin do something akin to folding them.

Felix jumps to his feet and runs at Seungmin as he enters though, Hyunjin joining in yelling at another octave, until Seungmin has to finally detach them both.

Settled back on the bed next to him, Felix catches him up on his time back home in Australia, the God-awful amount of time he already spent preparing for university entrance exams. Hyunjin was in an art camp away from Seoul, making it a true reunion.

“Guess who my prefect is,” Seungmin says once he can’t hold back anymore.

“It can’t be as good as mine,” Hyunjin competes instead of taking the bait.

“Who?” He needs to know who was trying to steal his spotlight for gossip.

“Seo Changbin.”

“What? Isn’t he kind of a hardass?” He could see Changbin running this dorm like it was bootcamp. “Might be fun to mess with though.”

“I don't care, he was so nice to me. He helped move all my stuff, and didn’t let me carry anything.” He points towards the boxes. “I’ve never moved in so quickly before.” Hyunjin’s collection of items littered all over the room, seemingly with no place to go, begs to differ.

“If only the elevator broke and he carried you up the stairs too,” Felix adds. Seungmin snickers, assumes he’s been hearing the details for a while now. Hyunjin throws a stray pillow at him.

“Okay, okay, guess who's in my dorm now,” Seungmin cuts in. Felix tosses the pillow aside to sit up, then wiggles closer until his arms can octopus themselves around Seungmin’s waist.

“Is it Chan sunbae? From soccer?” Felix tucks his chin into his shoulder.

“No, thankfully. You know Jisung would go crazy if he lived with us.”

Another pillow goes flying, hitting Seungmin this time.

“Tell us already!” Hyunjin demands it like he isn’t the one who interrupted him earlier. His hyper energy is like shaking a can of soda and opening it, all bubbly and inescapable.

And after so much time away, Hyunjin’s impatience makes him feel fond more than anything. Seungmin’s secretly sappy about coming back, being all together again, especially in the short time when they’re still free to mess around before the school year picks up. The fleeting, end-of-season days that they make the most of, even if they’re doing something as fruitless as gossiping about upperclassmen in their rooms.

“It’s Minho,” Seungmin confides.

Their combined shrieking could break every newly installed window in the building.

“Minho sunbae!” Hyunjin gasps. “Of course he’s a prefect.”

“Head prefect, I found out. I doubt I’ll see him more than check-ins. But he was so cool,” Seungmin says, admittedly sounding just as dreamy as Hyunjin. Maybe more out of his mind too, as he launches into the details of their 20-second introductory conversation that includes an essential bit about Minho’s forearm.

Jisung meets them in the dining hall in the evening, where they continue catching up – this time over the sound of oak chair legs dragging against oak floors and the rest of their class’s chatter, their trays loaded with galbi and banchan, a special meal to bring in the new year. After, they sink their forks into dessert, Felix’s favorite spice cake with a layer of thin, cream cheese frosting. Seungmin doesn’t eat a lot of sweets, but today he ends up having three portions, solely because of the celebratory atmosphere of the hall.

Post-dinner, he and Jisung trail back to their house for the routine, beginning-of-semester dorm meeting.

They settle onto the floor, cross-legged in the common room with the rest of the fifth formers living in the building, while Minho stands and goes over the rules Seungmin’s heard since third form. Minho seems to know a lot of his classmates' names already, playfully calling them out and making the yearly chat feel less mind-numbingly redundant.

He does a great job of making sure to look at everyone while he talks, and when his eyes briefly meet Seungmin’s, his already friendly smile lifts with familiarity.

Instinctively, Seungmin ducks his head in and bites his lip, as if Minho’s a member of Day6 and not just another student who recognizes him. Minho is his prefect, this wasn’t a big deal. It’s literally his job to recognize Seungmin.

Still, he stares at a spot on the carpet for the rest of the session, just to avoid the little flip his heart does when Minho’s eyes fall on him.

They go over their new privileges, like no more internet cut-offs at midnight, later weekday check-in times, and no curfew at all on Fridays and Saturdays. Seungmin’s looking forward to it, partly because he’s always felt more productive in the library than in his room. He needs to get ahead with entrance exams for university this year, and study for international English tests as well.

Minho reminds them that co-ed hangouts still aren’t permitted, which results in a load of groans from the floor as if they didn’t already know. Minho just laughs and chastises them, then goes on to tell them a story of how someone his year convinced a girl to sneak him into her dorm – by hiding him in a recycling bin.

“Wasn’t that Changbin?” someone asks from behind Seungmin.

Minho cackles. “Where’d you hear that?”

“So it was!”

Jisung turns to Seungmin with rounded, gleeful eyes, nudging their knees together. Seungmin shakes his head, trying to convey that risking a month of Sunday detention, or worse, ruining their student record, for a hormone-fueled tryst one night, was ridiculous.

“Do not let that information leave this room,” Minho threatens them lightly, which is as much of an admission of Changbin’s history as is confirming outright. “And no bringing girls in. Don’t give me more work and make me talk to your dean. I’ll take it very personally. Okay?”

They nod and let out a chorus of ‘yeahs’ and ‘thank you’s’ before they’re dismissed.

It’s too early for bed when tomorrow's Sunday, so Seungmin follows Jisung outside to their quad, lit up by the perimeter of lampposts, the light blurry and watercolored in the evening humidity. Hyunjin and Felix are already belly down on the grass, swatting their hands to fight off mosquitoes. Seungmin wishes he could capture it, the balmy air, navying sky, all in a jar swirled together. He snaps a photo on his phone instead.

The summer they have left is all about eating Hyunjin’s snacks, wiping their oily fingers on the grass. Talking about manga with Jisung, feeling Felix’s head roll onto Seungmin’s lap when he gets sleepily quiet. Figuring out what classes and free periods they shared, which teachers they had, and who in their class did what while they were away.

The crickets are loud by the time Felix finally stands up to stretch. Most students have gone back to their houses. The four of them split off again too, and Jisung swings an arm around Seungmin’s neck on their way back to their dorm.

The last of summer blends into the first week of school, where it’s syllabuses and faraway dates for quizzes and exams that seem like they’ll never come. Soon, the seniors would be caught up in international university applications, some of them holed up in the library for the first time, emanating foreboding auras that seep into the class below as a warning of what’s to come.

But for now, the seniors are marching around the school, self-satisfied and cocky in their earned status as the eldest.

Seungmin’s eyes keep catching on Minho, who looks as good as ever walking around in their uniform. It’s hard not to notice what’s objectively true – that the neat, navy polo, stitched with their school emblem, fits him better than anyone else, like he was meant to stand next to a horse or model for Ralph Lauren. He sees him briefly during dinners, whenever Seungmin’s entering the dining hall through the main entrance by the senior section, crossing through to the opposite side where their fifth former tables are. Minho often sits with Changbin, laughing mischievously and cat-like, or next to Chan, who often clings his arm on the back of Minho’s chair.

During the second week of classes, Seungmin’s sitting in their art center’s auditorium for the biweekly all-school meeting. Felix and Jisung are messing around on one side of him, Hyunjin more composedly paying attention on the other for now, as the Head of School gives a welcome speech. It ends with the ongoing reminder to always be polite towards cars and the people who live around the school. They don’t say it outright, but it’s so the surrounding town doesn’t have another reason to hate them.

The environmental club comes up to talk about a new recycling system next, and then one of the girls’ acapella groups does a rendition of a Taeyeon song that has people on their feet.

Towards the end, Minho enters the stage alongside the head prefect for the girls. Today, he’s traded the polo for a white dress shirt and their navy blazer.

Things play like a movie as he steps into view, when a casual run of fingers through his bangs makes a group of girls in the front audibly gush. Seungmin’s next inhale might come a little sharper too. While Arin grabs the mic, Minho lets his gaze slide over to the girls, giving them an amused wave.

By the time Minho and Arin are exiting, Hyunjin has caught onto Seungmin’s staring problem. He elbows him in the ribs, just as one of the students by the stage shouts, “Sunbaenim, you’re so handsome!” It makes the entire first floor laugh.

“I can’t believe you and Jisung get to talk to him every day,” Hyunjin sighs.

“We talked about Naruto for an hour last night,” Jisung says, trying to shake off Felix who keeps mussing his hair. Some of it is sticking up in the back now. “I should tell those girls they’d have more luck doing fireball jutsu signs.”

An hour? Seungmin lets it sink in. He hasn’t gotten the chance to talk to Minho at all yet, only catching glimpses when he’s crossing the dining hall. Or before he starts fiddling with his phone, head down, as soon as he spots Minho coming up the hill for English when Seungmin’s going down for Biology.

And Seungmin just happens to check into the dorm early most days, signing his name off and heading into his room before Minho arrives to fling himself onto one of the common room couches. He camps there for an hour at least, laptop open on an assignment as he chats with the rest of the house as they filter in for the night. Seungmin sees him sometimes, like when he comes out to the hallway to fill his water bottle.

He recalls Minho last night, his legs stretched onto an ottoman, twirling a pen and talking with Jisung and another junior Seungmin plays baseball with in the spring. He was wearing sweats instead of uniform then, which made Seungmin’s mouth a little dry for no reason.

Minho had thrown his head back to laugh at something Eric said, and the column of his neck, the suddenly exposed ridges of his Adam’s apple, caused Seungmin to fumble with his water bottle. An embarrassing, clanging sound rang out as it hit the floor. Seungmin swiftly picked it up and speedwalked back to his room without another look behind him.

It certainly hadn't encouraged him to hang around them in the common room, not when he couldn’t trust himself not to behave skittishly around his prefect. Avoidance was clearly the best choice for him, he thinks as the school meeting wraps up.

When Seungmin’s not hiding in his room, he’s in the library, which is the other last place he expects to run into Minho.

At the end of September, his luck runs out. He’s in his usual area during a midday free period, tucked in the research wing where there are plenty of desks, each with a desktop computer. It’s deeper in the library relative to the reading room, where instead there are long couches and armchairs for low-stakes studying and quiet conversations.

Past his favorite research wing, even deeper into the building, is the deadly silent section on the where students go to cram 30 minutes before an exam. Everyone respects the no speaking rule in there. Seungmin minds himself to not even look at them, even though it's practically empty this early in the semester.

Seungmin has his biology notes splayed out in front of him, keyboard pushed to the monitor for more space, highlighter in hand as he curls over cell structures. He almost doesn’t notice the person at the desk to his right, until they let out an audible huff.

Minho is standing over a chair, hand outstretched to reach the mouse. Considering that he’s not sitting, he’s probably rushing to finish something before next period. His brows are furrowed, front teeth visible from where his mouth is parted in apparent distress. Seungmin blinks, unable to quite turn back to his own work, but also not sure how to help.

After another few seconds, Minho cranes his neck as if to check for any librarians around, and ends up looking to the left. Directly at Seungmin, who is already looking back, humiliatingly enough.

It's probably a trick of the warm, yellowed lighting here, but Minho’s features seem to soften.

“Seungmin.” He’s smiling already, kind as ever. “Any chance you know what printer I’m supposed to be using in here?”

“Um, yeah,” Seungmin says, the gears in his head turning. Not particularly quickly, but fast enough to spit out a response. “Let me see.”

Minho doesn’t make any move to step away, so Seungmin is forced to crowd next to him, hunching over to view the screen until their faces are parallel.

“Black and white, right?” Seungmin asks to confirm, even though it’s unmistakably Minho’s essay open on a Word document in front of them, not a photobook.

“Yep,” Minho says, his shoulders unconsciously leaning closer to the screen and towards Seungmin.

Seungmin can’t think clearly, and it makes him act impulsively. Instead of pointing at the screen where Minho should click, he places his hand over Minho’s hand on the mouse, and drags the cursor to the correct icon, “Inkjet_CRHb&w.”

Minho doesn’t react, but Seungmin snatches his hand away as soon as he realizes, clasping them both at his stomach like it would absolve him. He stands up straight – distancing himself from the cologne clinging to Minho’s neck.

Unbothered as ever, Minho double-clicks and walks over to the table a few feet away, where the printer flashes and whirs to life. The paper is probably still hot in his hands when he grabs it.

No, no. Seungmin doesn’t want to think about “hands” or “grabbing”. Wants nothing to do with the image of his own, long fingers resting over Minho’s smaller knuckles, or how his entire palm spanned Minho’s and then some.

He sits back down at his own desk while Minho returns to logout.

“Thanks Seungmin, I’ll see you tonight,” he says before leaving.

Seungmin nods dumbly, hoping the smile Minho gives him permanently marks his subconscious and shows up again in one of his dreams.

He doesn’t run into Minho later, of course. Like the previous weeks, he stays in the library or the piano rooms in the art building, sometimes in an empty classroom or the student center with Jeongin, and arrives back home well before Minho starts dorm duty.

It just works better with his schedule, he tells himself. He focuses better.

And it’s safe.

It’s supposed to be safe, anyway. Seungmin is in room one night when there’s a knock on his door.

It’s more of a polite tap on the wood, and there’s no shoving in immediately after, so it can't be Jisung. Curious, Seungmin slides off his twin bed, ditching the laptop he’s been watching a drama on for the past hour.

When he turns the knob open, he’s met with his prefect standing on the other side of the doorframe.

His first response is panic. Did Minho find out about the growing collection of ceramic mugs he’s been hoarding from the dining hall? He means to return them, and he’s been planning on ordering a new flask to carry his tea for a while now. Hopefully, Minho would understand.

Or perhaps the faculty member who’d given him and Jeongin a concerned, passing look yesterday had reported it over to their prefects. He steels himself to explain why they were trying to choke each other on the way back from the science center. He could do it, possibly even with minimal embarrassment.

“Just checking up on you,” Minho greets lightly. “I never get to see you around here, but you’re always signed in. It’s like living with a ghost.”

“Oh, I see, thank you for doing that, sunbae,” Seungmin manages, partially relieved that he doesn’t have to discuss why he was manhandling a sophomore. “But everything’s been fine! I just wind down early.”

He scratches his thumbnail with his pointer finger, wondering if he should elaborate on his obnoxiously disciplined bedtime routine to ease Minho’s concern.

Minho saves him from exposing any of that.

“Everyone here calls me hyung,” he says. “And it's Thursday night. Do you want to play Mario Kart? I set up a monitor in there.” He tilts his head towards the common room. Seungmin notices the classic Nintendo music playing behind him for the first time.

He glances back into his room, at the large poetry book stacked on his desk, waiting to be reviewed a final time. He would much prefer playing games. And the chance to hang out with Minho, who Jisung more and more often name-drops and sings praises of since they’ve started spending time together.

But he really does have a quiz tomorrow, about a dozen Iliad names he doesn’t have memorized.

“Thanks for asking…hyung. Maybe next time? I still have more work left. I bet Jisung’s down though,” Seungmin offers.

“I bet he is,” Minho chuckles. “It's a lot easier getting his attention.”

Seungmin coughs and tries not to misinterpret that, before his imagination can get the best of him.

“Let me know next time you’re free, okay?”

“Okay,” Seungmin mumbles back, feeling his chest warm. Even if it is a courtesy, a prefect responsibility, it still feels nice to be sought out. To be considered by Minho, who probably has several other things to do and even more people he could spend time with.

He turns back towards the hallway, as Seungmin’s closing the door. Before he can shut it completely, Minho flicks a lazy grin over his shoulder. “Or I’ll start going to the library!”

He scampers off towards Jisung’s door, leaving Seungmin’s hand motionless on the handle and heat crawling up his throat, almost constricting.

At some point he had gathered that Minho could be a flirt; Seungmin’s seen the way he smiles and jokes around, the way he cocks his eyebrows and shoots looks. He’s heard it from Jisung too, but Seungmin’s never been on the receiving end like this.

It doesn’t mean anything, he reminds himself. There isn’t any reason to get carried away. Minho’s only being an attentive prefect, making sure that Seungmin isn’t spiraling into his work and assuring him that he has company to rely on.

Still, Seungmin burns up as he sits back at his desk.

Or I’ll start going to the library.

Maybe there wouldn’t be any escaping Minho, after all.

The next morning, Seungmin wakes up to the first frost glazed across campus. It lines the trees and now-yellowed grass, crystal crunching under his sneakers as he heads to first period.

After lunch with Hyunjin, it turns wet and slippery under the late peek of sun.

When Seungmin finally heads back to the dorm at the end of the day, the pavement is no longer glistening. He peels off his sweater as he’s walking, and stuffs it into his backpack. It’s warmed up in the way a Friday should.

“Do you wanna go to the soccer game?” Jisung asks, knocking pointlessly and pushing open Seungmin’s door before hearing a response.

“Sure,” Seungmin agrees anyway, looking up from his psych textbook. Any work he does on Fridays is casual on principle. There’s no ticking time pressure, and whatever he gets through just makes his Sunday load a little easier on his shoulders. “I can head out whenever.”

Jisung nods, shifting his weight side to side suspiciously before he walks out to the hallway again.

He arrives thirty minutes later, now dressed in casual jeans and a rugby-style pullover, with their school emblem in the corner. His hair is restyled too.

“We could catch the second half if we go now.”

It’s the weirdest invitation Seungmin’s ever received.

“Do you…want to go?” he asks tepidly.

Jisung laughs, more of a choked-out sound than anything else, and clasps his hand to the back of his neck. “Yeah. Dude, I’m just scared Chan is going to think I’m weird.”

Seungmin closes the book and stretches to stand. “For going to a Friday game like everyone else?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Okay, one. Chan doesn’t even see you.”

Jisung nods excitedly at the possibility. “Which is great. I get to watch his legs flex and hear him yell shit.”

Seungmin resists rolling his eyes. “Or two. He does see you, and he gets all happy, like he always does, and tries to hug you.”

“He’s like that with everyone,” Jisung complains smally, as they shuffle out of Seungmin’s room. Seungmin locks it before they leave the dorm.

They head through the downhill path hill until it bisects with the sidewalk, then take the sidewalk past the student center. They discuss, or rather Seungmin encourages, that while Chan might be like that with everyone, Jisung is allowed to show he isn’t affected by it like everyone else. They engage in Virgo-to-Virgo communication, as Lia in their class once called it. Jisung whines that it doesn’t matter if he understands Seungmin’s logic because Chan is a Libra. As if either of them knows what that means either.

The bleachers are pretty full, but it’s nice outside now, dry enough to sit on the grass by the sidelines. Their team is up by two when they arrive.

“Dude, he’s so fast,” Jisung sighs, as Chan, with admittedly scary agility, sprints past the halfline. They split a pack of candy between them, but Jisung hadn’t touched it in a while, still absently chewing the first piece he’d put in his mouth.

Seungmin leans back on his hands, letting his eyes trail from the game past the back of Jisung’s head as another group approaches the field.

Dahyun and Tzuyu are laughing at something Changbin just said, followed by him doing a series of step overs and then a shot with an imaginary soccer ball. Minho is there too, chuckling by their side.

Seungmin’s been relaxed this whole time, but now the bones in his wrists grow stiff, suddenly straining to keep up his body weight. He feels shy, even if they’re not paying attention to him.

Until Minho does notice him, noticing them, catching Seungmin’s eyes and waving.

Seungmin pins his gaze to the ground as quickly as possible and starts nervously picking at the grass by his ankles. Lowly, he murmurs to Jisung, “Minho’s coming this way.”

“Huh?” Jisung tries, with valiant effort, to tear his eyes away from the game. “Oh awesome, I was looking for him this morning.”

Minho is stepping behind them seconds later, looking down. Seungmin turns and cranes his neck up, squinting. The bright sky halos Minho’s head, highlighting all the brown in his hair.

“Hi.”

“Hyung,” Seungmin says as Jisung chirps back his own greeting, immediately asking Minho if he’s read the new chapter of a webtoon they both follow.

While they talk, Seungmin wonders why it feels so hard to be normal about running into another student at a student game. He fiddles with a dandelion he’s torn off, its tubular, muddied stem hanging in the air before he lets it fall to the ground again.

“Nice to see you out of the library, Seungmin-ssi.”

“I like sports," Seungmin says, trying not to sound defensive, or grip more grass from the sidelines.

“Yeah?” Minho asks, “Why don’t you come to my games then?” He pouts a bit, and Seungmin's ability to discern teasing disappears with the possibility that he’s done something to upset Minho.

He scrambles. “I’ll go to the next one. I didn’t know you played anything, hyung.”

Minho grins, the dejection melting from his face like the frost from the morning.

“Yeah, I don’t. But nice to know you’d come watch.” He tilts his head, bangs falling cutely to one side. “Is it too late to join a team?”

Jisung laughs as if he didn’t upheave himself against all odds just to watch Chan today, while Seungmin mutters crossly about how it’s definitely too late. He ignores the sensation in his throat. Like he swallowed popping candy, tingling and fizzy, increasingly unbearable the longer Minho stands by them.

“Have fun, both of you. See you later.”

He joins his senior friends again and walks off. Fortunately, Jisung is too preoccupied with the match again to poke at Seungmin over their conversation. Or, he’s just used to Minho’s tendency to shamelessly say stuff like that.

When Jisung tries to scurry away after the game, Seungmin stolidly pulls him back by the shirt. He makes him stick around until the team finishes their high fives and post-match praises.

Maybe, there’s a part of him that doesn’t want to be the only one dealing with the harrowing consequences of finding an upperclassman out of his league attractive. Maybe, scolding Jisung reminds him that he’s still Seungmin, annoyingly headstrong, rational, not a loser who ends up fighting for each word because his hot prefect wants to have a conversation.

As Chan grabs his bag and approaches the spectator side of the field, Seungmin drags Jisung by the arm towards him.

Thankfully, Chan notices Jisung immediately. They weren’t strangers after all, Seungmin’s heard plenty of excerpts about Chan from the class he and Jisung shared last year.

“Jisungie! How are you?” Chan exclaims before glancing down at his cleats. “I’d hug you but I’m like, disgustingly sweaty.”

“That’s okay,” Jisung laughs. Seungmin tries not to roll his eyes at the shade of disappointment in the sound. Expectedly, Chan doesn’t pick up on it.

“You were really good out there,” Jisung says after they briefly catch up.

“You guys watched? I don’t think I saw you in the bleachers.”

“Yeah, we came a little later and sat in the grass.” Jisung points lamely to what was a perfectly good spot by the sidelines.

“You have some on you,” Chan laughs fondly, stepping forward to brush the grass that Seungmin was tearing up off Jisung’s hip. “I have blankets if you need any for next time. I know the games get crowded.”

Yeah, because of you, Seungmin wants to say. Chan’s hair is messy in all the right ways, his jersey stained with dirt and damp enough to cling to his body. Seungmin’s noticed, which means that Jisung is salivating if he didn’t shut down already from Chan’s hand on him.

“That’s so nice hyung, thank you,” Jisung says with a little bow of his head as Chan hikes his bag up his shoulder.

“Of course, anything for you. For you guys, I mean.”

Chan excuses himself to head home and shower.

“He likes taking care of people,” Seungmin considers, once he’s out of earshot. “And you struggle to do basic things on your own.”

“Hey!”

“Seriously. Just play up the incompetence a bit. He'll be all over you.”

“What am I supposed to do? Say I need help with laundry? We’re in Harmony Counterpoint together and I’m actually good at it. Even you can admit.”

“You’re smart enough to play dumb too. Figure it out.”

Jisung whines the rest of the way up the hill, but Seungmin can tell he's pretty content with the results of the match.

Saturday morning, Seungmin wakes up with a headache.

Everyone had come over after dinner yesterday, crowding the common room where they set up Felix’s contraband Switch, and later diffusing their way onto Seungmin’s bed and Seungmin’s floor. To talk about everything and nothing, jumping from topic to topic, jumping on one another too. Two hours after midnight, he swiped the bag of chips from Hyunjin and kicked them all out.

His eyes are still blurry as he scrolls through a few notifications now, trying to energize himself enough to send a text to their group about brunch. He’s stern when hangouts start impeding his night routine, but he’s even more strict about eating together when they can. There is also the issue of if they missed the mealtime, they’d all be eating snacks again until dinner opened at 5 pm. This is why everyone needed a type A friend, Felix once assured. So albeit sleepily, Seungmin tugs on sweatpants and a hoodie, a set in matching navy blue, to brave the cool air outside his comforter and beyond.

At breakfast, Seungmin is the first to sluggishly make his plate and set it down at one of the round tables. Steamed rice with a fried egg, soup, a red bean bun and cubed melon. Most people around him are in similar laid-back outfits, except for the girl’s volleyball team in their jerseys for an early game. From his seat, he can see Jisung struggling by the waffle maker.

He smiles to himself, thinking how it’s unfortunate that Chan isn’t around to help him out. Instead, there’s Felix dumping more chocolate chips into the batter while he’s not paying attention.

Seungmin looks away, no longer wanting to watch the disaster unfold, one that he can admit he wouldn’t be of any help in stopping either. He takes a bite out of his pastry.

Minho emerges from the opposite side then, walking under one of the two ornately carved arches that separate the senior section from the rest of the hall. He looks comfortably cozy, a knit scarf around his neck, made up of tiny marshmallow-colored loops intertwining with each other. He’s unfairly gorgeous, in or out of uniform, when he’s wide awake at weekday lunch or sleepy as he approaches the coffee station.

Seungmin pokes his egg around with a fork, yolk rivering into his rice. When he looks back up, Minho is no longer near the lines for food.

Minho is not heading towards his class section either.

Minho, apparently inescapable, is walking right over towards him.

He looks smug, probably having caught Seungmin staring, and ready to make him feel foolish about it. It feels like yesterday’s game all over again. Except this time, he can see Jisung just beginning to pour batter into a hopefully greased waffle iron and Felix watching over his shoulder – which leaves him completely alone.

“Morning, Seungminnie,” Minho says cutely. He’s never heard him use that voice, sugary and pitched. Or that nickname. It has red, warning lights flashing in Seungmin’s head, as well as something pinker, blossoming just under his collar.

“Morning, hyung. I’m just waiting for my friends,” Seungmin feels the need to say because of the empty table. He lifts his chin towards a spot behind Minho. Minho doesn’t turn around to look though.

His fingers continue drumming on the frame of the chair instead, across from where Seungmin’s sitting, and every tap sounds increasingly dooming.

“You’re friends with Felix too? We have dance comp together.” Behind his shoulder, his friends are now struggling with maple syrup.

He looks back at Minho’s eyes, which are a shade of brown darker.

Seungmin murmurs that’s cool, and wonders if he’s going to sit, if he needs to mentally prepare to have a meal with him first thing on a Saturday.

“I saw you guys talk to Chan after the game.”

Minho could make regular small talk, ask about the score or his weekend plans. But his smile is lopsided and almost dangerous, no longer sweet like syrup, but sticky and set to trap.

“You have a crush on him, then?” he asks, head tilting.

The question catches Seungmin off guard, even if he knows he’s probably teasing.

“I…,” he starts, blush creeping up his neck as Minho continues staring at him, waiting for an answer. Maybe he was serious. “No, I don’t.”

Minho hums. “Yeah. I am more your type anyway.”

Seungmin’s lips part open, and nothing comes out.

Which isn’t typical. Plenty of people have called him a brat, mouthy or nagging. Hyunjin is the first to push away at his shoulders when he’s being annoying, close his eyes and say Seungmin’s driving him crazy. In their group, Seungmin’s infamous for endless quips and disapproving stares. Yet now, he can’t even roll his eyes.

As much as he’d like to ask Minho what right he has to come to that conclusion, so cocky and self-assured, nothing leaves his mouth for seconds.

Seungmin considers denying the assuming statement, just for some footing, even if it’d be a blatant lie. You’re not my type, he imagines saying. At least he and Minho could laugh out loud at its absurdity together.

“I’m sure you’re used to it,” Seungmin manages finally. It’s supposed to be a little biting, but it comes out more like admittance.

Minho giggles loudly, delight crinkling in the corners of his eyes.

“Kim Seungmin, you’re going to be so hard to leave alone.” He pushes off the chair he’s been leaning on with finality and turns around.

Did everyone know this? How sly and teasing Minho was? This was not flirting, this was deeply unsettling. Seungmin watches as he greets Jisung and Felix with a normal, friendly, shallow bow as they pass each other. Is Seungmin the only victim here?

His friends finally set down their plates, stacked with fluffy Belgian waffles and syrup that drips precariously onto the edges of the ceramic.

“Were we being too loud last night? Did Minho tell you off?” Jisung asks, cutting himself a piece. “We can go to Hyunjin’s next time. Changbin’s apparently the loudest in their building, anyway.”

As if on cue, Hyunjin arrives in the hall, bumbling through the arches in a huff, long parka swishing at the back of his calves. He catches sight of them at their usual table.

For now, the need for Seungmin to explain anything further dissolves into the rest of Saturday.

Seungmin has plans for his time here, and by junior year, he’s finally achieved some of them. He’s in honors Biology and honors English, conducting independent self-study in piano composition, and had secured a spot on varsity baseball last spring. His well-intentioned advisor supports him, though not without a comment on how she believes Seungmin has too much on his plate.

It’s frustrating that no one wants to acknowledge that getting into university hasn’t been only about decent test scores and GPAs in a long time. His extracurriculars were essential, anything that could make him stand out among both the genius and loaded kids around him. As much as Seungmin thinks the system is competitive, cutthroat at its worst, he doesn’t have much choice but to follow it anyway. Honestly, he’s lucky to have found activities outside class he genuinely enjoys, and that he doesn’t mind returning to his spot in the library during free periods and in the evenings.

By October the workload is constant. Felix is in the library next to him most often, sometimes side by side soundlessly at the desks, other times laughing between calc problems in a study room. Unlike Seungmin, he studies less for the prospect of university, and more with an earnestness to understand and do well. That’s how they balance each other out.

When Felix drags him out of the library, it’s easier to comply, slide his laptop into his bag and follow him. When Felix stops by the music rooms in the art center, it’s easier for Seungmin to relax his fingers on the piano keys instead of pressing them for one more runthrough.

Unlike Felix, Minho is not the world’s most welcome distraction. Despite usually keeping to himself in his room when he’s at the dorm, Seungmin’s never completely safe from house antics interfering with his studying or sleep schedule.

He left his textbook in the common room late one night, and went to fetch it from what he’d expected to be an empty common room. Instead, he runs into Minho, plus a few of his friends, trying to drag an entire ping-pong table in.

“Is this allowed?” Seungmin wonders, rubbing some of the tiredness out of his eyes.

“Yeah, obviously.” The heavy pull of Minho’s smile to one side says otherwise.

“Then why are you moving it at 2 am?”

Minho drops his hands from the table, leaving the other upperclassman to grunt under the extra weight. Seungmin has half a mind to feel bad for them.

“I didn’t touch it.”

Seungmin shakes his head and swipes his textbook off the coffee table.

The next morning, the coffee table is gone, and the dorm keeps erupting into cheers as the news spreads of their new setup. Seungmin lets himself smile about it, only privately, on the way to class.

On the weekend, he attempts to sleep through a raucous karaoke night. Half the reason he’s having trouble is because it’s Minho’s voice that he can hear best, floaty and clear above everyone else’s. His body cranes to listen, against its own exhaustion and Seungmin’s own will.

He doesn’t know why he was so excited to have a single this year if it meant having to deal with this. Even when it’s relatively calm, Seungmin still overhears conversations about Minho and the elaborate prank war he’s been plotting against Changbin’s dorm. That one was distracting because, admittedly, he had the most interest in it.

Seungmin adapts to dealing with Minho in his peripheral, which is progress compared to the start of the year. If Minho just stayed in there, ultimately Seungmin would have been fine.

A week before Halloween, he’s stopping by the dining hall before his next class, on a simple mission to grab a muffin and more caffeine. As Seungmin’s crossing through the senior section, he sees someone kick an empty chair out through the corner of his eye.

Past the girls linking arms a few steps in front of him, over a stretch of polished wood floors, there’s….Minho, the sole of his sneaker still pressed against the chair leg.

Seungmin hesitates in the middle of the hall. It seems like he’s blinking in Seungmin’s direction. But why? Before he can do something silly, like look over his shoulder and check if there’s anyone behind him, Minho saves him from the embarrassment by calling out his name and patting the seat in what looks a lot like an invitation.

Seungmin checks in on time, is never too loud, and certainly hasn’t tried to sneak a girl in. So why can’t his prefect, who’s already busy being their school’s beloved senior, leave him alone?

His shoes squeak, an humiliatingly shrill noise as he pivots towards the table. Seungmin has always appreciated the steady rules of the hall, that only seniors were permitted to sit at the tables in the grand foyer. Sure, it made it intimidating to walk through, especially when he was a freshman, but he’s used to that now. What he isn’t used to is being summoned by an upperclassman to join. During one of the busiest lunch periods, too.

He scans the table quickly, recognizes some of his friends. Chan says hi brightly before he sits, Changbin a little less enthusiastically. Seungmin doesn’t blame him, in fact, he wishes Minho would respect the rules more too.

“What are you up to?” Minho asks, as if they’re on a close basis.

“I was going to pick up tea before class.” Seungmin shakes the empty tumbler he has in one hand and then tries not to feel stupid about how noiseless it is.

“What class?”

“Bio.”

“Honors, I’m guessing? I have some old quiz keys if you ever need.”

Seungmin figures he looks aghast, staring back blankly as Minho cackles.

“I’m just kidding. That wouldn’t make me a good head prefect, would it?”

Another question Seungmin doesn’t answer.

“You said you like sports, do you play anything?”

“Just baseball in the spring.” Paranoid before he can stop himself, Seungmin asks, “What’s with all the questions?”

Minho giggles again, a high-pitched noise that rings as clear as the noon bell from the Chapel. “I’m just getting to know you better. Is that okay?”

“It’s nice of you to check in on all of your prefectees,” Seungmin replies neutrally, wondering how much longer he would have to be sitting here. He thinks he sticks out like a sore thumb, with both straps of his backpack still on too. “You must be busy with applications too.”

“Mhm,” Minho agrees lazily. He stretches his neck to the side. “That’s definitely what I’m doing.”

Seungmin nods, beginning to push himself out of the chair. “I should get to class.”

Cat-like and quick, Minho hooks an ankle around the chair leg and tugs it, along with Seungmin, closer to him. It’s only a few centimeters, max, but the movement is so abrupt that his breath still audibly catches. Around all of Minho’s friends, in the middle of the senior section.

If he gets out of whatever Minho wants alive, he’s never going to use the front entrance again.

“You know this is my fourth year, right?” Minho asks. Seungmin isn’t sure where this is going. “You really think I haven’t figured out how to print out my assignments yet?”

A beat passes.

“Oh,” Seungmin says in hazy realization.

“Don’t be late!” Minho says, smiling once more before turning back to his plate.

Seungmin leaves, the edges of his body fuzzy and static, heart pulsing well before his first sip of caffeine.

He doesn’t talk to Jisung or Felix or Hyunjin about it, Minho’s behavior toward him. There’s nothing to talk about, after all. He’s figured it out already. Minho had a penchant for teasing or flirting, whatever it was, and probably enjoyed the reactions Seungmin was giving him. He didn’t need to tell his friends. Hyunjin would undermine his logic with a much more romantic explanation. Felix would handle it all too sincerely, when there wasn’t anything real going on to even take seriously.

And as much as Seungmin wants to blurt it out and get Jisung’s perspective, as Minho’s friend and all, he’s also afraid of what he’ll hear. Maybe Jisung will laugh and tell him not to worry about it, and confirm that he’s like that with everyone. Every time it’s on the tip of his tongue to bring up Minho’s weird tendencies to seek him out, a sinking feeling overshadows it first.

In the middle of bio, Jeongin pokes his elbow that’s resting on the lab bench, and a pained noise leaves Seungmin’s mouth before he can stop it. Their teacher pauses, the class giggles, and Seungmin is vindicated of a disapproving glance only because of his usual orderly conduct. When she begins talking again, he shoots the brat next to him a look, as sharp as the pencil he was stabbed with.

When class is over, their last one of the day, he and Jeongin filter out slowly. They have a free period now, allowing them to languidly pack their bags and not have to struggle against the afternoon energy crash. They take the second floor exit out the science center, where it’s connected to a bridge crossing over a pond and back to the quad.

Jeongin stops halfway on it to lean over the metal rail, snapping photos of water and the admission building’s rippling reflection from across the way.

“Let me take one of you,” Seugmin offers, smoothing out the collar of Jeongin’s shirt. “This coat’s actually not ugly on you.”

“Thanks, I know hyung’s always familiar with what’s ugly.” Seungmin pushes him towards the railing harder than usual, and Jeongin laughs as he hands him the phone.

They swipe through the photos together afterward, forearms resting on the railing, overlooking the pond.

“Are the turtles out today?”

Seungmin spins around way too fast, recognizing the voice. His hastiness is emphasized even more by Jeongin, who turns around at a normal speed.

“Minho hyung,” Seungmin says, briefly forgetting he asked a question. “No. No turtles today.”

“Aw.” He steps into the space on Seungmin’s other side, leaning against the bridge. Seungmin turns, following his gaze to the pond again. They’re all quiet after he introduces Jeongin, watching the dark ripples and red leaves float and twirl along the surface. The flat top stones remain free of any sunbathing turtles. Seungmin tries to think of something to say, fails, and wishes Jeongin would break the silence. He’s chosen now of all times to text someone.

“Are you going to class?” Seungmin finally decides, braving a look at Minho’s side profile, his sloped nose and plump upper lip. Especially in this sweater vest blazer combo, the slight wind blowing his bangs wispy, Seungmin thinks he should be plastered on the front of their admissions magazine. The very image of handsome, preppy, and clever.

Minho’s shaking his head. “Studying with Changbin in there.” He turns from the pond to face Seungmin. “Isn’t it halfway through last period? Did you think I was cutting class for you, Seungminnie?” he teases.

Seungmin blinks, realizing he’s caught himself in another trap of Minho’s words, and thinks how to fight his way out for the countless time this month. Jeongin, unhelpful as ever, coughs on his other side.

“No, I don’t think about you at all.”

This delights Minho, clearly from the way his face lights up, eyes bright under autumn sunshine as he giggles. Seungmin can’t predict his next move though, barely registers the arm circling his neck until Minho’s tugging him closer.

“I’ll work harder until you do,” he says lightly, a breath of air across Seungmin’s ear.

He releases him like nothing happened, self-assured as ever as he walks the rest of the bridge and disappears into the building.

As soon as he’s gone, Jeongin slides his phone into his pocket. “What was that?” It’s not politely suspicious, it’s a total accusation.

“He’s just my prefect,” Seungmin sighs, trying to soothe himself after another nerve-wracking conversation with him.

“Doesn’t look like he’s just your prefect.”

Seungmin starts walking back towards the quad. “It’s all part of his charming, popular boy thing. Minho’s flirty with everyone.”

Jeongin’s hot on his heels. “Is he?”

“Yeah.”

Seungmin doesn’t have any hard proof, necessarily, but he imagines he must be.

“But why would he go out of his way to do that with a prefectee?” Jeongin bumps their shoulders. “More importantly, you like it.”

Even though it’s just Jeongin saying them, the words make Seungmin shiver, under his parka where his keen eyes thankfully can’t reach.

“And you’re an expert when it comes to crushing on upperclassmen, right?” Seungmin asks, deflecting onto the fourth former. It makes Jeongin push into his shoulder again, definitely harder this time, but it’s welcome if it means the heat’s off of him.

“I don’t have a crush on anyone, don’t be annoying,” Jeongin mutters. “Felix hyung is just nice and handsome. Honestly, I have no idea why he hangs out with you.”

Seungmin cackles all the way to the student center, pissing Jeongin off with more questions, while keeping the Minho situation out of the way. They head up the steps, and Seungmin holds the door open for him as the barest reconciliation.

The first floor is an open space, a projector in one area, an assortment of game tables in another, couches along the walls and bean bags spread about. A group of girls are watching a Netflix reality show he keeps hearing about. Seungmin kind of wants to join them. Even better, there’s a cafe upstairs that serves burgers and fries, where you can also lean over the edge and watch from above. Their school store, for textbooks and convenience snacks and attire, is in the basement.

He and Jeongin drop their bags off by the couches, the weight of the day sliding off their shoulders, and gravitate towards the empty pool table before the rest of the students get out for the day.

“If you win, you can eat dinner in our section today,” Seungmin says, winking before he powders the cue stick. “Bring Beomgyu too.”

“Ugh,” Jeongin fakes gagging. “Why would I want to eat with you guys?”

“Fine. If I win, you eat with us.”

“What do I get if I win?”

“I’ll tell you how cute you look. Especially when you’re talking to Felix hyung.”

Jeongin shakes his head in disbelief. “Inducing my gag reflex is actually a good distraction strategy.” He takes off his blazer and throws it in the pile with the rest of their things.

Seungmin plays first, breaking the pool balls with a satisfying thwack, mind clear for at least the while they were here.

Unfortunately, no amount of competitive bets with Jeongin could solve the fact that Minho lived in his building, on the same floor, on the other side of a common room he was always a little nervous to be in and out of.

Now his own room isn’t safe either, not when Minho seems to find excuse after excuse to knock. First it’s, “Did you leave your jacket out here?” (Seungmin has never worn the item in his life), then it’s “trick or treat” on Halloween (Seungmin picks up a lone pack of jellies from his desk and drops it in Minho’s hand).

When there’s a knock on his door around 10 pm today, Seungmin expects Minho again and has no expectations for a reasonable request. He’s in the middle of studying for a calculus test tomorrow, desperately making sure he understands differential equations. If Minho’s out there asking if Seungmin has a pen he can borrow, he’s going to close the door right in his face and complain to the dean.

It is him.

“What,” Seungmin deadpans, pushing his glasses back up and trying to look haughty. Maybe if he seemed in control, he’d feel like it more. It doesn’t matter that Minho’s standing there in his pajamas, a lived-in cat t-shirt and swishy shorts, looking absolutely dreamy. Seungmin’s not interested in providing free entertainment tonight.

“Hey, do you know–whoa.” Minho pauses, his already big eyes widening.

“What?” Seungmin asks, the apathy disappearing from his voice quicker than he had hoped. “Is there something on me?” He combs a hand through his hair, shaking it out.

“Yeah, you look way too cute in your glasses.” Before Seungmin can even react, Minho’s hands are on his cheeks, flattened palms squeezing just enough for Seungmin’s lips to pout involuntarily. “So cute.”

“Thank…mmf...you?” He attempts to sound coherent, but Minho’s hands are soft, like they’ll melt right into his skin. Not to mention, if this was real, Minho also had just called him cute.

And Seungmin liked it. His heart thumps in his chest too loudly, too honestly. Okay, he liked it a lot.

Minho finally drops his hands, though he doesn’t take the heat from Seungmin’s face with them. “It’s fifteen past curfew. Any idea where Jisung’s at?”

Still burning up, he tries to recall if Jisung asked him to cover for him today, but he doesn’t remember anything like that.

“I saw him at dinner with Hyunjin last, pretty sure. He probably just fell asleep at their dorm after.”

Just then, the door of their house launches open, Jisung’s voice carrying in between labored breaths.

“I’m here!” he pants. “I’m here, don’t write me up please! I just lost track of time.”

Minho grins fondly, pushing off Seungmin’s doorway. It makes his forearms flex. “Nevermind, I guess. Goodnight, Seungminnie.”

Seungmin nods as he walks away, closing his door on the sound of Jisung's relieved voice and Minho’s easy laughter.

Later, Jisung sprawls onto his bed and thanks Seungmin for distracting Minho and buying him more time. Seungmin means to correct him, that actually ☝️ Minho's the one who’s been distracting him. But the words don’t come.

Mid-November, the temperature plummets, along with a drop in mood across campus. It’s a scramble before the end of the semester and break, finals looming over them like a heavy cloud that won’t go away. The branches are bare now, captured every morning by glass frost that persists the entire day.

Seungmin’s layering a thick sweater over his button down before he puts a coat on now, bustling to and from class, piano practice, Hyunjin and Felix’s dorm, and the library which has become noticeably more hectic. He’s also wearing his wire frames out more often, which elicits coos from Hyunjin each time. Jeongin disapproves and tells him he looks like a loser. Yet, he’s always the first to swipe them from his nose and put them on himself.

Noticeably, the only person who doesn’t have anything to share about Seungmin’s new style choice is Minho. Other than some glimpses and concise greetings exchanged at dinner, they rarely cross paths. Evening check-ins are an aloof affair for all the residents, Minho nodding when they walk in, then effectively cutting off any more conversation by turning back to his laptop. It made the common room a great spot to study, at least.

Jisung wallows at meals, or on Seungmin’s floor, ever since Chan’s been more stressed about university applications and cutting the time they spend at the studio. Jisung can’t go by himself to blow off steam and make music alone either, not without special permission at least, since it was supposed to be a senior-only privilege.

“Maybe he doesn’t like me at all,” he pouts over their trays of jjajangmyeon, one of Seungmin’s favorite meals. Somehow, it tastes blander today.

“You guys have a Spotify artist account together, Jisung.” He swallows effortfully and does his best to sound confident for both of them. “They’re just busy with apps. I’m sure he’ll be back to dragging you into his little hideout after break.”

“I hope so.” Jisung’s voice is small, too echoey of the one Seungmin hears in his own head.

He hears it when he’s haggard in the library, cheek pressed to the desk in defeat. He daydreams about Minho sliding up to the adjacent desk, asking him any stupid printer question he pleases. He misses his moments with Minho, the banter Seungmin had just been starting to find his footing in, the glow he’d feel all day afterward, even when he was stressed or embarrassed in the moment. When the dining hall’s out of pastries at breakfast, or he makes a stupid mistake on a quiz and loses points for no reason, he feels hollower than usual.

Too late, he’s realizing his crush on Minho, who’s perhaps grown disinterested altogether. The thought gnaws at his stomach. It’s a bit more than a crush, more than giggling at the front of the auditorium when Minho smiles at the school. Seungmin doesn’t think he’s liked anyone this way before.

Seungmin’s first and only kiss was with Hyunjin, his freshman roommate then, while talking late into the night after their first Holiday Ball. They had shucked their suit jackets and ties off already, leaving them in wrinkled, sweaty button downs that wouldn’t fit them the next year. Both of them were sugar-high on desserts and gossip, electric from brushing arms, dancing with girls and guys under pretty fairy lights. Their oak dining hall, which was unrecognizable without the tables and chairs lined up, was blizzarded with fake snow – a lot of which they had tracked onto their own carpet.

Hyunjin shakes out his blazer, and more snow flutters down to the floor. Tonight, Seungmin doesn’t even mind if some of it gets on his side.

Shoulder to shoulder, they sit on the floor with their backs to Hyunjin’s bed. Their ankles end up tangled as they laugh and review the evening, discussing their classmates, the outfits, how handsome Changbin looked in black dancing to GOT7.

Hyunjin toes at Seungmin’s shin.

“Have you kissed anyone before?”

Seungmin snorts. “You really think you wouldn’t know if I had kissed someone?”

“I don’t know! You keep this stuff to yourself. Or hide it away in your diary. I don’t know if you ever did in like, middle school or something. “

A moment of silence passes between them.
“I’d kiss you right now,” Seungmin says before he can stop the impulsive thought from rolling off his tongue. He thinks spontaneity tastes a lot like snowfall.

Hyunjin laughs, turning to meet gaze, his eyelids still glittering from the night. “I dare you.”

Seungmin doesn’t feel like backing down from the challenge. Who cares if he kisses his roommate?

It's a short contact of lips, then a couple more close-mouthed kisses as Seungmin tests what it’s like to press his mouth to Hyunjin’s mouth. Hyunjin is giggling like crazy after they break.

“What? Was it that bad?”

“No, it was actually really sweet.” His head slumps onto Seungmin’s shoulder after that.

To Seungmin, his first kiss was a mostly clinical press of lips, purely physical contact. One mouth against another, touching, then not touching, and some sounds. It didn’t feel particularly intimate, and thankfully he didn’t realize any dormant feelings for his roommate afterward.

There was no stir of butterflies, nothing like the ones he gets when Minho merely looks at him, so intense that he has to break eye contact half the time. Seungmin just considers it a blessing – that his first kiss was with someone as close to him as Hyunjin – and a little lucky, that it was with someone so beautiful too. Whatever role Hyunjin played in his gay awakening, he would never admit it to his face.

The week before finals, there’s the annual Holiday Ball. This year, Hyunjin hands out matching, dark green ties for all of them to wear. They take pictures together on the steps, arms hanging off each other's shoulders or with other members of their class. Seungmin sees Minho just before they enter the dimmed hall, being pulled from one photo to another. He wonders if anyone else notices the way his smile drops every time the flash finishes going off. He considers approaching him first for once, but Felix is linking their elbows together and tugging him inside.

After that night, Seungmin’s life is a haze of studying and complaining about studying. He and Hyunjin write their English essays one afternoon in the library, and convene after lunch with everyone else at his dorm because Changbin offers to help them with calc. Initially, Seungmin figured it was a ploy for Hyunjin to gawk at him, and that he’d end up with headphones on, going through old quizzes in the corner of their common room.

But Changbin is impressively adept with math and just as good at explaining too. Seungmin feels a little silly for finding him scary at first. Especially when he’s so ridiculously enamored with Hyunjin, finding every and any reason to brush his hand along the back of Hyunjin’s chair, or unsubtly cutting his eyes to him after making a joke to see if he’s laughing. Hyunjin always is, regardless of how funny it is.

Seungmin ignores the twinge of jealousy, especially when Changbin invites Hyunjin to sit with him and his friends at dinner one night, and just lets it be another reason to launch himself into the work instead.

Finals pass over them eventually, during which Hyunjin and Jisung only fight once, which is two times less than last spring. They split for winter break, their parents' cars winding into the small town to pick them up a week before Christmas. Jeongin takes a Busan train, and Felix goes home to Australia.

For the most part, Seungmin enjoys his holiday, eating home-cooked Korean meals, bickering with his sister, and helping cut fruit with his parents in the evenings.

At night, he tries finishing a drama he’s been meaning to complete for a while. He’s interrupted by the need to shut his laptop every time a romantic scene plays out.

Seungmin squeezes his eyes closed and imagines being hugged by Minho, both of them in their spring uniforms, a few rogue cherry blossom petals spinning around them.

The second night he slams the screen down, he closes his eyes to stop himself from thinking about Minho at all.

The third time, he texts Jisung to ask if he’s free to go shopping tomorrow.

Winter

The first week of January his mom’s car drives away again, smaller and smaller until it disappears past the snow-covered, Korean maple at the edge of campus.

As soon as it’s gone, Seungmin marches back into his dorm on thrumming impulse and determination, in his new way-too-expensive sweater, until he’s planted right in front of Minho’s door. Still without hesitation, Seungmin knocks. He doesn’t even take a step back.

He’s about to turn away in a mild rage quit when he doesn’t hear anything, just before the door swings open.

Then there’s Minho standing in front of him, real, in the flesh, looking about the same as he did last semester. Just with more surprise in his features, front teeth peeking from where his mouth is open.

“Kim Seungmin. Welcome back,” Minho drawls, expression morphing back into the easy confidence he’s more accustomed to seeing. “What’s up? Did you need anything?”

“Not really.” He bites his lip. Bravery came at the cost of planning; he didn’t work out all the details this far ahead. Otherwise he would’ve convinced himself it wouldn’t be worth knocking on his door at all.

Minho smirks. A part of Seungmin could celebrate the familiarity of it.

“Did you miss me over the holiday that much?”

“I’ve missed you since last semester, hyung,” he blurts, way too sincere in response.

Surprise returns to Minho’s face. It might be the first time he’s made him speechless.

“Ah.” He looks past Seungmin, faraway. “Well, that’s nice to hear. I had a lot going on with applications towards the end.” He doesn’t elaborate, just sighs a bit, like it’s all he’ll allow himself right now.

At least he’s acknowledging the distance, affirming that the switch wasn’t just in Seungmin’s head. That…there was something else there before.

When he finally flicks his eyes back to Seungmin, they’re mischievous again.

“And here I thought you were appreciating the break from me.”

“You–you basically Pavlov’d me into expecting to see you around every corner. Obviously I was going to feel some type of way when it stopped.” He shifts his weight from one leg to the other. “It’s just psychology.”

“Just psychology?” Minho asks, amused.

“Yes,” he doubles down, even if the larger portion of his confidence disappeared as soon as he admitted to missing Minho.

“Then I’ll make it up to you,” Minho assures, in a voice Seungmin swears is lower. “Can you come by around eleven tonight?”

“Sure, yeah,” Seungmin agrees. “Eleven. I’ll see you then.” Since Minho owes him, for all the frustration Seungmin’s been put through recently. Making it up to him is the least he could do. He turns away to return to his room, where he’ll work on getting a grip for the next few hours.

“And Seungmin?” Minho calls over his shoulder, waiting for him to pause. “Don’t let anyone see you.”

The common room feels like it’s on fire as he crosses it the rest of the way. And Seungmin is very, very flammable.

He isn’t sure what to expect walking into Minho’s room, which he’s only seen glimpses of through the doorway. Minho lets him into a space that’s about twice as big as his, with its own attached bathroom as well. There’s a large floor mirror against one wall, a shelf with a few photobooth strips and figurines. His laptop is closed on his desk, cat-shaped stickers on the cover.

Seungmin isn’t sure where to step or what to do, but Minho solves that for him by being in an extra demanding mood. He points to the bed.

“Go sit. Weren’t you the one knocking on my door? Don’t get all shy now.”

Seungmin shoots him a glare, but obliges, crawling onto the twin mattress. If he’s being honest with himself, Minho being a little pushy, while he’s simultaneously on Minho’s covers, has the combined effect of making him feel like he’ll burst out of his skin.

He wonders if Minho’s going to kiss him today, maybe. He hopes that's why he detoured his way around the dorm to ensure no one noticed him slipping into their prefect’s room this late.

“Sundays are for Spy x Family,” is what he hears instead, the scene shattering in his head. Minho comes to sit beside him with his computer.

Okay. Seungmin isn’t disappointed.

Seriously, he’s not, not when they end up almost shoulder to shoulder, socked feet hanging off the edge of the bed. Minho places his pillow across both of their thighs, propping the laptop on top.

He watches silently and doesn’t offer any explanation of the characters, leaving Seungmin on his own to figure out that the girl with pink hair is a telepath or something. He tries to focus, but it’s hard starting an anime at episode 22, with his only prior knowledge being Jisung’s Halloween costume last semester.

He ends up moving around too much, squirming with his back against the hard wall, and eventually, Minho gets tired of him.

Minho pauses the show with a hard click on the spacebar. He moves the pillow and laptop to one side and stretches his legs apart farther.

“Sit here.”

Seungmin’s eyes go wide, glancing between Minho and the widened spot between his thighs. Minho stares back at him impatiently.

With no choice then, Seungmin crawls himself between Minho’s outstretched legs. He gingerly leans backwards, his back barely brushing Minho’s chest. Minho does the rest for him, looping an arm around him and pulling him flush.

“Now we can watch in peace, right?” Minho murmurs, fixing the setup again. Was the we in the room with them? Seungmin does not think he can watch in peace, personally.

Both of Minho’s arms wrap around his middle and Seungmin’s breath shallows. His breathing stops altogether when Minho tucks his chin into the crook of his neck.

“Comfy?”

Seungmin’s throat is too tight for words, so he just nods, which is still as shaky as his voice would have been. Minho laughs, light on his skin, and Seungmin thinks he feels his lips press into his neck once before he picks his head back up.

“Start it,” he nods at the laptop.

Seungmin has to reach over to press play because Minho’s arms don’t leave his waist the entire time.

His heartbeat eventually steadies circled in Minho’s arms like this, the rise and fall of his body compelled to sync with Minho’s relaxed rhythm.

It’s only when the latest episode winds down, and there’s no autoplay countdown to the next one, no reason to stay cuddled like this, does Seungmin shift again. There’s nothing to draw attention away from the fact that Minho’s fingers are idly playing with the hem of Seungmin’s sweater now, occasionally brushing the skin by his navel.

Minho is quietly singing along with the ending song, apparently not concerned with how Seungmin shudders at the touch of his thumb. His thighs are still bracketing Seungmin’s.

“We have class tomorrow,” Seungmin says finally.

Minho’s head falls forward onto his shoulder with a thump. He groans in his neck, right by his ear.

“Um. Come on hyung, I have to get up early.”

He unclasps his hands from Seungmin’s waist with a huff, giving him a light push. “Does that mean you’ll be free at night?”

Seungmin can’t help but laugh as he swings his legs down to the floor. “You sound desperate.”

“Do you hate it?” Minho’s cross-legged on his bed now, looking up at Seungmin. He blinks twice, eyelashes fluttering. The gesture is overly flirty, which is nothing new, but Seungmin thinks he hears uncertainty in his voice too.

Seungmin shakes his head, tries to hide away his smile by turning towards the door. “I don’t hate it, hyung.”

Hyunjin was only partially right about how Seungmin stashes everything away in his journal. He does write about the night in there, maybe even doodles a cat face, before flicking his lamp off and turning on his side to sleep.

But the next day, Seungmin is practically bouncing to tell someone about it too. If anyone outside looked at him for long enough, they’d probably notice his puffy jacket vibrating at the shoulders. He gets through his last class, arrives back at the dorm, and is relieved to hear the noises of Han Jisung beyond his door. He knocks, persuades him to put a coat on, and promptly drags him to Hyunjin and Felix’s.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” Seungmin says, in one whoosh of breath that he can see unfurl in the cold air.

“Really? What’s going on?” Jisung looks at him in genuine concern, eyes round, lips slightly pouted.

Seungmin stuffs his gloved hands deeper into his pockets and stares at his feet. Stepping one boot in front of the other, occasionally crushing a stray fragment of ice under his sole.

“I like Minho hyung.” He tilts his head up to the sky, white and neverending, and makes a noise of pure frustration. “Like everyone else at this school has at some point. I wish I got it out of the way freshman year.”

He turns to face Jisung, whose pupils are still wide before his face relaxes.

“I mean, it’s obvious why it happened now,” he chuckles.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Seungmin. He’s always finding a reason to hang around you. And every time he calls you Seungminnie, you get this look. Like you’re trying super hard not to smile.”

Seungmin sighs, ignoring the warmth beneath his cheeks just at the mention. Then he asks what he’s been scared to hear the answer for a while now.

“Do you think it means anything?”

It’s Jisung’s turn to look at the pavement. He toes an ice chunk, sending it skittering across the path.

“I don’t know, man, honestly. He’s so hard to read when it comes to anything serious.” Something in Seungmin sinks a bit, down from his sternum to the pit of his stomach. With well-intentioned hopefulness, Jisung adds– “It’s just a small crush though, right? Kind of embarrassing it's on your prefect, but I doubt you’re the only one.”

Seungmin takes a quick look behind them. It’s bare trees, shoveled paths and piled snow at the curb, a few bundled students walking meters behind him.

“We kind of hung out last night…it’s more for me,” he admits softly. I think it’s more for him too, he doesn’t say out loud yet, not even quietly.

Jisung demands to know what the hell that means and pesters him the rest of the way. Seungmin promises him he’ll fill him in once they’re all together, more desperately when Jisung picks up ice to drop down his back.

Felix is hunched over a textbook on the floor when they arrive, and Hyunjin is lounging on the bed. Jisung swipes a pillow off it and makes himself comfortable on the ground, wondering what Felix needs to be reading already after only the first day of classes. Seungmin jumps onto the bed by Hyunjin and asks if he got into the studio art class that’d gotten full last semester.

It’s a typical day back for them until Jisung can’t hold it in anymore. He snaps his head up after ten minutes, telling the room that Seungmin has an announcement.

Seungmin sends him a cursory look, if only as sharp as a butter knife, before filling them in.

Everyone listens, leaning forward and attentive, giving him the patience to reluctantly admit just how far gone he is, and the space to meander through his half-baked thoughts about it. Felix nods along, Jisung asks if he’s serious when Seungmin talks about how Minho once asked if he had a crush on Chan too. When he gets to the part about last night, Hyunjin cuts him off.

“He what? No, we need to act this out,” Hyunjin shifts on the bed to make his back flat with the wall and looks at Seungmin expectantly. “Show me right now how it went.”

Seungmin makes a face at the way he widens his knees apart. “I’m not doing that with you.”

“Can I be someone too?” Felix stands up and starts grabbing at Hyunjin’s ankles hanging off the mattress.

“I already said it was only us in the room, Lix-ah.”

Jisung stands in front of the bed alongside him. “I’m Anya on the screen. Waku waku.”

“We’re not reenacting this!”

Seungmin protests several times. Despite this, he ends up with Felix and Jisung pretending to be characters from the show, laughing like crazy, and Hyunjin’s spindly arms around his waist. He keeps threatening to kiss Seungmin’s neck, and the other two end up wrestling each other back to the floor. After getting up, in all their disorderly, useless cacophony, they agree that Minho is into him.

Seungmin feels lighter when he comes back home.

Minho grows busy again, likely with Korean university applications this time, often taking trips off campus to visit or interview. Seungmin catches him sometimes as he heads out, in crisp blazers and navy ties. On other days, he’s in more casual clothes, and Seungmin wonders in the back of his mind why he isn't dressed more formally. But far more often, Seungmin thinks about Sundays.

The second time they meet in his room, it’s preceded by Seungmin getting an early text at brunch.

Tonight! Again!
[CatSmackingDog.gif]

Seungmin slips his phone back into his pocket with what he thinks is subtlety and tries to stay composed. Unfortunately, his mouth keeps upturning into a squiggly line the more he tries to hold back from smiling. His friends catch on almost immediately, and then he’s engaging in hand-to-hand combat with Hyunjin to protect his phone. In the chaos, Jisung sneaks it from his pocket anyway.

It’s fine; it’s easier this way, to have his friends help carry both the excitement and the uncertainty with him. The price to pay is the teasing he endures heading into the library, a few hours earlier than he usually would to finish up work by the evening.

He goes back to the dorm around 9:30 pm, a half hour before curfew, and sees Minho in his usual place on the couch. A couple of his housemates are talking to him, but he still looks up when Seungmin walks in. Minho gives him a nod to acknowledge that he’s checked in, and more importantly, a knowing smile that undeniably says he’ll see him later.

Seungmin plays it cool until he’s in front of his own room, where he lets his forehead rest against the door for several moments before unlocking it.

At 11 pm, Seungmin knocks on Minho’s door. Minho’s already against the wall this time, cozy in his pajamas under the gilt of lamplight and waiting for him.

Seungmin melts at the sight, inside of his chest like wax dripping down a candle. He climbs onto the bed wobbly, and with an inhale that sounds only a little unsteady, fits himself into Minho’s lap without saying anything.

Settled, Seungmin turns his head to gauge his reaction.

Minho’s lips are parted open. And so close to Seungmin’s face.

“You learn fast,” he finally says, with a nod of approval. He ducks his head forward and plants the world’s lightest kiss on Seungmin’s jaw. Almost too quick for Seungmin to register. “There’s your reward. Start the show.”

Seungmin gets used to his Sunday routine with Minho. As for what happens, in the dimly lit room, a snug, tiny corner in the middle of campus, Seungmin has no way of getting accustomed to.

When he thinks he’s prepared for the next weekend, he walks into the room and Minho is under his covers. His head propped on the pillow, laptop on his stomach. Seungmin wants to fling himself back out. No way he’s supposed to go in there with him, right? He’s never felt the weight of his own inexperience quite like this, standing in front of the shut door, no longer having any idea of what to do with his limbs.

With Minho’s commanding, yet soft, voice – he somehow makes it to the twin bed. Trying to hear Minho over his drumming heart is not easy, but eventually, Seungmin ends up with his head against his chest, Minho’s arm over his shoulder, their legs tangled together under the blanket until long after the episodes end.

Seungmin sees him in brief moments around campus, often victim to a bump to his shoulder as they pass each other by. If Chan and Changbin are around, Seungmin notices them unsubtly exchanging looks with each other.

If it’s just Minho, he’ll duck close to Seungmin’s ear and say something ridiculous, like uniform looks good on you today, Seungminnie. As if it wasn’t the same button down and cream sweater, with blue and gold edges, he wears every day. The only difference was how Seungmin’s neck burns under the collar after.

One time Minho keeps walking along, passing him by without any of his usual jabs or commentary. Seungmin stops in the middle of the dining hall, still as if time itself had paused. When he turns around, Minho is only a few feet away, looking smug right back at him.

“Were you expecting something?”

Seungmin rolls his eyes and marches away from him, just to be followed by Minho’s cackle that feels like it’s echoing through the whole hall, soaring above any chatter.

With both of their workloads and schedules, it’s not totally surprising to Seungmin that they don’t see each other more frequently than that. Sometimes they hang out in the common room, notably a place Seungmin used to avoid altogether. But otherwise, Minho arrives after his interviews looking drained and retreats to his room for most of the night, while Seungmin tucks into his spot at the library, studious as he’s always been.

However, Seungmin gets the feeling that Minho is also being deliberately dodgy. Maybe it’s Seungmin, who unwaveringly wants more. Who walks into check-in hours in hopes that Minho will drag him from the couch to his room, wrap around him while they’re under the covers like last Sunday. But despite living together, for some reason, he doesn’t see Minho anywhere near as much as he’d like.

He admits it’s not the greatest application of the scientific method. He doesn’t have a control group, and the participants aren’t informed of anything before or after. But if he were to apply his bio and psych studies in real-time: He and Jisung would be the independent variables, different students in Minho’s dorm. Minho’s time and attention – dependent variable. From his observations, Minho has no problem spending multiple afternoons a week with Jisung, studying in the school’s cafe, hanging around Chan in the studio, and playing ping-pong in the evenings. The prefectee in question clearly impacts how much time Minho spends with them. Seungmin just didn’t expect to be on the losing end of that battle.

Shouldn’t the outcome be different now? Especially compared to last semester? Minho has kissed him, not on the mouth of course, but elsewhere. Twice! That’s two more times than he’s kissed any other prefectee, Seungmin’s positive. He briefly fills Jeongin in on his findings over the pool table, to which Jeongin asks for permission to smack the back of his head for being such a nerd about this. Brat.

Only after hitting him, he suggests that Minho might like taking things slow. That he might also be nervous and isn’t the flawless, popular boy Seungmin keeps building in his head.

Seungmin isn’t sure about Jeongin’s analysis, especially the bit about Seungmin projecting, but it does make him want the real answer even more.

At the end of January, Seungmin stays up late to get his class materials in order, reviewing big dates for projects and exams to note in his agenda. Not that his friends would know the difference, but it was indeed separate from his journal. Even though he showers past his usual time afterwards, he still doesn’t feel that tired. So he ends up in the common room skimming through Hamlet, which Hyunjin enthusiastically promised to help him out with tomorrow. His hair is fluffy from towel drying, slightly dampening the couch cushion. Daengmo sits on top of his bare thighs to keep him company.

Seungmin hears someone exit their room in the hallway opposite his. Probably whoever left a bottle of body wash on the floor.

“Seungminnie?”

He looks up, double-taking at the familiar voice.

“Hyung. It’s pretty late.”

“Yeah, so what are you doing here?”

“Huh?” Seungmin’s confused. “I didn’t want to sleep yet. It’s not against the rules to have a book in here.” He cuts his eyes accusingly at the obnoxious ping-pong table between them.

“No, but it’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous how, exactly?”

“Because!” Minho whisper-shouts. “It’s tempting!”

Seungmin puts the Shakespeare down, still not following.

“How are you so cute?” Minho continues, pointing at him. He almost sounds upset. “I seriously want to kiss your face everywhere.”

Immediately, Seungmin brings the plush up to cover his face, blushing furiously.

He did want more attention, but maybe he wouldn’t be able to handle it after all. There’s no way he can come up with a response to that, not unless he wants Minho to hear him squeak out please.

“Did…did you need something in here, hyung?” It’s muffled into Daengmo’s fur.

“Not anymore. I can’t be around you right now, or I’m gonna go crazy.”

He’s out of the common room before Seungmin can even begin finding the words.

Once he has his bearings again, back in the safety of his own bed to sleep, he flourishes with the pride of being right. Minho has been holding himself back. The high fades rapidly of course, into disappointment and a new flavor of confusion. Why?

He doesn’t see Minho for the rest of the week and doesn’t expect to see him on Saturday either, not after he mentions he has another interview that afternoon. Seungmin texts him back a cute dog sticker, tells him good luck, and tries not to mope after.

So he’s surprised to feel his mattress dip, a couple hours earlier than he’d usually be up on the weekend. His first instinct is to turn away, annoyedly. There’s a muted glow behind his eyelids, bluer in hue than regular sunshine, but he doesn’t care to know why. He wants to slip back into his dream. He tries to tug the covers over his head, but the weight on top prevents it. He groans again, just as the soft light disappears altogether.

“Minho hyung?” he asks, bleary but hopeful.

He feels fingers tuck under his chin. “Yeah, it’s me, baby.”

Seungmin’s eyes fly open to see his best friend’s face hovering over his, far too close.

“Get the fuck out,” Seungmin whines, trying to pull the blanket over himself again.

“It’s snowing!” Jisung exclaims. But his boba eyes don’t affect Seungmin, not when he’s literally asleep. He pushes him off and curls back onto his side, facing the wall.

“The nice, fluffy kind. Come on, Seungmin-ah. Everyone’s coming to the hill already.” He tries to persuade him from the floor, where he’d tumbled down to. “I even survived waking up your precious Minho hyung.” Jisung pauses, probably waiting to hear Seungmin shift. He stays perfectly still, refusing to give him any satisfaction. “Do you really want him to fall in love with Felix out there?”

Seungmin sits up abruptly, almost bumping his head on the bed frame. Jisung cackles and pulls himself off the ground, victoriously heading out the door that Seungmin seriously needs to remember to lock from the inside.

Seungmin puts on his parka in defeat, a pair of sweats over his pajama pants. His curtains are luminescent in the dim room, the way they are only when there’s a fresh blanket of snow, coating the entire lawn beyond the window. In the sliver between the drapes, he can see that it's still falling. The good kind, admittedly like Jisung said. Where you can see snowflake patterns, intricate and fragile, sticking to your coat sleeves before they melt away.

It isn’t windy either when he makes it outside, and the snow comes down airily. Chan and Jisung are farther down the slope, hovering over and taking photos of Felix who’s made an impressive angel on the ground.

Slowly coming up the hill is Hyunjin, notoriously the most sleepy of their group. Except he isn’t walking…he’s being carried on Changbin’s back. The sight of Hyunjin’s long legs and arms dangling over Changbin’s form makes Seungmin laugh, even through his grogginess. They’re still a few meters away when he feels a thud on his back, snow sprinkling down to his heels after impact.

When he turns around, Minho is walking up, hands innocently stuffed in his pockets.

“What is it?” He stands by Seungmin’s side. There are shiny, half-melted snowflakes in his eyebrows, in his eyelashes. Real ones, he thinks. Not the artificial stuff that gets stuck on you during Holiday Ball.

“Let me see your hands.”

“Why? You wanna hold them or something?”

Seungmin shakes his head like he’s ridiculous, while dutifully ignoring the tingle in his own fingers. He turns his attention instead to Hyunjin in front of them, sliding off Changbin’s back. Minho’s hand comes up to the jacket hood tab near Seungmin’s neck and tugs.

“Cute.”

Hyunjin gets both feet on the ground but leans right back into Changbin’s side like he still needs him.

“Can he not stand by himself either, Changbin-ssi?” Minho asks.

“You really want to talk?”

They stare at each other silently.

Seungmin doesn’t really get it, doesn’t have time to understand as someone chucks another pile of snow at his back. He spins around to see Chan, standing sheepishly.

“My bad, Seungmin-ah! That was supposed to be for your boyfriend.”

The words have barely made it out of his mouth, and Minho’s whipping around – vengeful, even at the failed attempt on his livelihood.

Seungmin lets them chase each other, preferring to sit with Hyunjin on a bench and watch until he’s more awake. Hyunjin snaps photos with his nice camera, even though most of them come out blurry, either from the moisture sticking to the lens or their friends' erratic movements.

Jisung shouts when Chan presses his freezing hands to his cheeks, and whines softer when Chan rewraps his scarf for him. Felix comes by to sit on Seungmin’s lap for warmth for five minutes, before going back to film a TikTok in front of a plum blossom tree, its branches dipping under the weight of a new layer of snow.

“Your boyfriend,” Hyunjin giggles beside him, when Seungmin gives up on trying not to stare at Minho. Laughing a lot, in a pair of earmuffs that slide off every time Changbin grabs him. Getting hit by Chan’s snowballs, and then demanding he brush the snow off his shoulders and jeans afterward. His prefect, the school's favorite. He’s Seungmin’s favorite too.

Preseason training for baseball wouldn’t begin until a few more weeks. But Seungmin decides to get a headstart then, making a few, firmly packed snowballs to throw. With a pitcher's arm, he chucks them at Minho, walking closer with each. At the first, satisfying splat across his jacket, Minho glowers at him. Seungmin rolls more, stands up, and pelts him again.

“Kim Seungmin,” Minho growls. For his complete lack of aim, Minho makes up for in creativity. He scoops a pile of snow and threatens to make Seungmin eat it if he hits him again. Seungmin does anyway, and then Minho hurtles towards him and tries to stuff it into his mouth.

Minho tackles him to the ground, but Seungmin manages to dodge the ice being shoved at his face. He grabs Minho’s waist and rolls them again, pinning his lithe wrists beside his head so he can’t attack him again.

His hands are frostbitten and red. And small, Seungmin notices again, like he did that day in the library.

Things are different now.

Still hovering over him, Seungmin slowly slides his hands up from his wrists to his fingers. Carefully, like any sudden movement will have Minho shoving him off and running, he intertwines his fingers between Minho's knuckles.

When Minho closes his own back, Seungmin beams. He stares at him like that, happiness probably sickeningly blatant across his face.

“Get off me, you overgrown puppy.” Minho makes no real effort to move him though, only a weak nudge of his knee at Seungmin’s thighs, which are still bracketing his waist.

Minho’s telling him to move, but his whole face is red now, just like his fingertips.

“Hyung, can I kiss you?”

Minho's mouth opens around what’s most likely a quip, then closes again.

He sighs instead, a wisp of breath between them, and cuts his eyes to the side. Again, Seungmin notices the snow in his lashes as they flutter.

“Do whatever you want,” Minho mumbles, the world slowing down with the words. Suddenly their friends aren’t running around them anymore, there’s no shouting, and there’s barely a tomorrow. There’s only snow, blanketed across campus, still falling above them like the last touches of powdered sugar onto a cake.

“Okay,” Seungmin whispers, not wanting to miss his chance.

He dips down and kisses Minho on the mouth, soft, cold, and squeezes their hands together.

When he lifts his head back up, Seungmin can’t help but smile, wider than the whole sky.

“Let go of me,” Minho says, trying to pull his hands out of Seungmin’s tight clasp. Seungmin releases him and starts shifting to stand. One kiss is more than enough. He could run laps around the school, he could ace all his tests this semester, he could pitch perfect game after game.

But as soon as their tangled hands are free, Minho reaches up to grab Seungmin’s face instead. He ignores Seungmin’s noise of surprise, dragging him down for another kiss, then another, kissing him over and over until Seungmin loses count altogether.