Chapter Text
Kim Mingyu burst through the heavy oak doors of Pledis University at exactly 8:15 AM, a full fifteen minutes before his first class. He was chronically early to everything, a habit born from years of his grandmother telling him, "Better an hour early than a minute late."
The problem was that being early didn't make him any less of a mess.
"Coming through–sorry, excuse me–" he muttered, trying to juggle his overfilled messenger bag, a tilting cup of convenience store coffee, and approximately seven textbooks that seemed determined to achieve independent flight.
His plaid shirt, a monstrosity of black and red checks that was at least three sizes too large and made him look like he'd mugged a lumberjack, flapped around him as he navigated through the Monday morning crowd.
The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows in a futile attempt to make the shirt look intentional, but they kept unrolling themselves with every step.
His glasses, those thick horn-rimmed things that his grandmother swore made him look "scholarly and trustworthy," had slid halfway down his nose. His hair stuck up in at least four different directions despite his attempts to tame it that morning with water and prayer.
The hallway was packed with the usual Monday morning chaos, students rushing to class, others clustered in groups gossiping about their weekends, a few brave souls looking half-dead with coffee cups clutched like lifelines.
"MINGYU! Over here!"
Mingyu's head whipped toward his locker bay, where Seokmin was waving enthusiastically, his bright smile visible even from twenty feet away. Beside him, Minghao leaned against the lockers with his usual effortless grace, scrolling through his phone.
"You're early," Minghao observed without looking up as Mingyu arrived.
"Always am." Mingyu wedged the coffee cup between his chin and shoulder and fumbled with his combination lock, nearly dropping three books in the process. "It's a blessing and a curse."
"Mostly a curse since you still look like you got dressed in a tornado," Seokmin said cheerfully, reaching over to fix Mingyu's collar, which had folded in on itself.
"Hey, this shirt is comfortable." Mingyu finally got his locker open and started the chaotic process of reorganizing. Shove the bag in, balance the coffee on the tiny locker shelf, grab the urban development theory binder, swap out the books he didn't need for the ones he did.
"Comfortable and hideous are not mutually exclusive," Minghao said, finally glancing up. "You look like a scarecrow had a baby with a thrift store explosion."
"You're so mean to me," Mingyu said without heat, adjusting his glasses. "And I have tutoring at noon, right? The three freshmen who are struggling with calculus?"
"Yep. They specifically requested you again." Seokmin grinned. "Something about you being 'the only tutor who doesn't make them feel stupid.'"
"Because they're not stupid! They just need someone to explain it differently." Mingyu grabbed his coffee and took a careful sip. "The tutoring center pays pretty well too. Between that and my scholarship, I can almost afford to eat something other than instant ramen."
"Living the dream," Minghao deadpanned.
Mingyu was about to respond when the entrance doors slammed open with a bang that echoed through the hallway like a gunshot.
The effect was immediate and dramatic.
Conversations died mid-sentence. People moved without being asked, bodies automatically pressing toward the walls, creating a clear path down the center of the hallway. A freshman girl who'd been standing near the doors actually yelped and stumbled sideways, clutching her books to her chest like a shield.
Because the elite had arrived.
Jeon Wonwoo walked at the front, and he walked like he owned every inch of ground beneath his feet, which, given his family's net worth, he probably did.
He wore a deep green turtleneck that probably cost more than Mingyu's tuition, fitted perfectly to his lean frame. His dark hair was styled with careless precision, and his eyes, sharp, cold, calculating, swept across the hallway like a king surveying his kingdom and finding it lacking.
He was beautiful in the way expensive art was beautiful, meant to be admired from a distance, untouchable, cold.
Kwon Soonyoung walked beside him, blonde hair whipping around as he moved, one arm slung casually around Wonwoo's shoulders like he had every right to be there. Everything about him screamed money and the kind of confidence that came from never hearing the word "no."
On Wonwoo's other side, Choi Seungcheol stalked forward with barely contained power, all muscle and sharp jawline. His family owned half the real estate in Seoul. The other half was probably owned by Wonwoo's.
They were gods walking among mortals.
And everyone knew it.
"God, they're so hot it's actually unfair," Seokmin breathed, not even trying to be subtle about staring.
Mingyu's eyes had found Wonwoo the second he'd walked in, an automatic, helpless reflex, like his gaze was magnetically drawn north. He watched Wonwoo cut through the hallway like a blade through silk, beautiful and terrifying, leaving a wake of intimidated silence behind him.
It was pathetic, really. Mingyu knew exactly who Wonwoo was. Everyone did.
Jeon Wonwoo, student council president, son of the Jeon business empire, top of his class, and cruel as winter. He was mean. Genuinely, deliberately mean, and he didn't pretend otherwise.
And yet, Mingyu had a crush. A stupid, pointless, absolutely hopeless crush on Jeon Wonwoo.
So did half the school.
The elite trio passed within three feet of Mingyu's locker bay. Mingyu's breath caught as Wonwoo's eyes swept across the hallway, across him, without even pausing. Like Mingyu was part of the wallpaper. Less than nothing.
"...party this weekend at my place," Seungcheol was saying. "My parents are in Milan."
"Shocking," Wonwoo drawled. "I'll be there. Someone needs to make sure you don't burn down the house with your stupidity."
"Love you too, Won."
And then they were gone, disappearing around the corner toward the East Wing where all the upper-level business and law classes were held. The places where people like Mingyu didn't have any reason to go.
Mingyu released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"You're staring," Minghao said flatly.
Mingyu jerked, nearly spilling his coffee. "What? No, I wasn't."
"You were definitely staring," Seokmin agreed, but his tone was gentle. "At Wonwoo specifically. Again."
"Everyone stares at him. He's–" Mingyu gestured vaguely with his coffee cup, sloshing liquid dangerously close to the rim. "You know. Him."
"He's also mean as hell," Minghao pointed out. "Remember last semester when that junior asked him for help with the charity fundraiser? Wonwoo literally looked at him and said 'Do I look like I have time for your mediocre ideas?' and walked away."
"Okay, but–"
"And he made that girl cry during student council elections by systematically destroying her entire campaign platform in under two minutes."
"I know, but–"
"And everyone knows he dumped Jaehyun through a text message that just said 'we're done' with no explanation."
"I get it!" Mingyu adjusted his glasses, which had slid down again. "He's not... he's got sharp edges, okay? But that doesn't mean–" He stopped, aware that both his friends were looking at him with a mixture of pity and exasperation. "Forget it."
"You know he's mean, and you still have a crush on him," Minghao finished. "Mingyu, you're a nice guy. You literally help everyone, you tutor for free half the time, you hold doors and carry people's books and apologize when other people bump into you. Wonwoo would eat you alive and not even feel bad about it."
"I don't have a crush," Mingyu lied. "I just... think he's interesting."
Both his friends stared at him.
"Okay, that's worse," Seokmin said. "That's so much worse than just admitting you think he's hot."
"I'm going to class," Mingyu announced, slamming his locker shut and immediately regretting it when the noise made several people jump. "A class I'm early for, because I'm responsible."
"And hopeless," Minghao called after him.
"So hopeless!" Seokmin agreed.
Mingyu flipped them both off without looking back, his mind still unhelpfully replaying the cold dismissal in Wonwoo's eyes as he'd looked past him. Like Mingyu didn't exist. Like he never would.
Minghao was right. He was absolutely hopeless.
But he couldn't seem to stop himself from hoping anyway.
◁▶◀▷
Wonwoo's mood was already shit by the time he reached his Business 101 classroom.
The student council meeting had been a complete waste of his time, two hours of incompetent idiots arguing about things that could have been resolved in twenty minutes if people just listened to him the first time.
The vice president had actually dared to question his budget allocation, as if Wonwoo hadn't already done the math three times over. As if anyone in that room was even half as competent as he was.
"Jeon Wonwoo," Professor Han called out, reading from her attendance sheet.
"Here," Wonwoo replied from the doorway, not bothering to raise his voice much. The entire classroom fell silent anyway, every head turning toward him.
He didn't wait for permission to enter. He just walked in, footsteps echoing in the sudden quiet, and made his way to his usual seat in the third row.
Professor Han didn't say anything. She'd learned by now that trying to assert authority over Wonwoo was a losing battle. His family donated enough to this university that he could probably walk in an hour late and still get away with it.
Not that he would. Wonwoo had standards.
He slid into the seat next to Jihoon, who barely looked up from his laptop where he was working on something that definitely wasn't related to this class. Jihoon was small, quiet, and one of the few people in Wonwoo's circle he could actually tolerate.
Mostly because Jihoon didn't talk unless he had something worth saying, and he was viciously competent at everything he did. Music production major, but he took business classes for fun. Because apparently that was what Jihoon considered fun.
"Meeting was shit?" Jihoon murmured, still typing.
"Everything is shit," Wonwoo replied, pulling out his own laptop. "Remind me why I'm student council president again?"
"Because you're a control freak who can't stand watching other people do things badly."
"Fair."
Professor Han cleared her throat at the front of the class. "Alright, now that everyone is here, let's discuss your final project for the semester."
Wonwoo felt Jihoon shift slightly beside him, a subtle straightening that meant he was paying attention now. Good. They'd worked together on projects before. Jihoon did his part, didn't slack off, and didn't waste Wonwoo's time with stupid questions. This would be easy.
"This project will account for thirty percent of your final grade," Professor Han continued, pulling up a presentation on the projector. "You'll be analyzing a failed business venture, identifying what went wrong, and proposing how it could have been salvaged. I want ten pages minimum, proper citations, and a presentation at the end of the semester."
Wonwoo glanced at Jihoon, who gave a barely perceptible nod. Partners. They'd do this efficiently, get it done in two weeks instead of the entire semester, and both get perfect scores like always.
"And before anyone asks," Professor Han said, with the kind of smile that meant she was about to ruin someone's day, "I'll be assigning partners randomly. No choosing your own groups this time."
The class erupted in groans and protests.
Wonwoo's jaw clenched. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."
"She's punishing us for the last project," Jihoon muttered. "When everyone just let the smart kids do all the work."
"So she's punishing the smart kids by forcing us to carry deadweight?" Wonwoo's voice was cold. "Brilliant logic."
Professor Han was already pulling up her randomized pairing list, completely ignoring the complaints. "Alright, settle down. Here are your partners. Lee Jihoon and Park Jisoo."
Jihoon sighed, closing his laptop. "Do you know who Park Jisoo is?"
"No idea," Wonwoo said. "You have my condolences."
"Kim Taehyung and Choi Yuna. Seo Youngho and Kang Mina. Jeon Wonwoo and Kim Mingyu."
The classroom went dead silent.
Wonwoo looked up sharply. "Kim Mingyu?"
He scanned the classroom, waiting for someone to identify themselves. No one moved. The silence stretched, uncomfortable and heavy, because everyone knew that being paired with Jeon Wonwoo was either a blessing or a curse.
A blessing if you were competent, a curse if you weren't. And based on the fact that Wonwoo had no idea who Kim Mingyu even was, this was definitely going to be a curse.
Professor Han frowned, checking her roster. "Kim Mingyu? Are you here?"
A hand slowly raised from the very back of the classroom.
Wonwoo turned in his seat, eyes tracking to the source.
There, partially hidden behind two other students, was a tall boy in horn-rimmed glasses and the most aggressively ugly plaid shirt Wonwoo had ever seen. His hair was messy, his glasses were crooked, and he looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.
A nerd. Of course. Wonwoo was stuck with a fucking nerd who probably had zero social skills and would make him do all the work while taking half the credit.
"There you are," Professor Han said brightly. "Perfect! Make sure to exchange contact information with your partners before you leave today."
Wonwoo turned back around, jaw tight. Beside him, Jihoon made a small sympathetic sound.
"Want me to talk to Han? See if we can switch?"
"No," Wonwoo said coldly. "It's fine. I'll just do the entire project myself like I always do."
The rest of the class dragged on with Professor Han explaining the project requirements in excruciating detail that Wonwoo had already figured out in the first five minutes.
He took notes mechanically, his mind already planning the project timeline, the research he'd need, and the presentation format.
He wouldn't trust Kim Mingyu to do anything important. Maybe he could throw him some basic research tasks, the kind of mindless work that even an idiot couldn't fuck up.
When class finally ended, Wonwoo was already packing up his laptop, ready to leave and forget this entire disaster of a day.
"Um, excuse me?"
The voice was soft, hesitant. Wonwoo looked up.
Kim Mingyu stood next to his desk, clutching a notebook to his chest like armor. Up close, he was even more of a disaster, the plaid shirt was somehow even uglier, his glasses had tape on one side, and he was so tall that he had to hunch slightly to not loom over everyone.
He looked nervous and awkward and completely out of place.
"Jeon Wonwoo, right? I'm Mingyu. Kim Mingyu. Your partner. For the project." Mingyu pushed his glasses up with one finger, a nervous gesture. "I just wanted to say hi and maybe we could exchange numbers? To coordinate meeting times? I'm pretty flexible with my schedule, so whatever works for you is–"
"Do you ever stop talking?" Wonwoo cut him off, his voice sharp enough to draw blood.
Mingyu's mouth snapped shut. A flush crept up his neck.
"I don't care about your schedule. I don't care about coordinating." Wonwoo stood, and even though Mingyu was taller, something about Wonwoo's presence made him take a step back. "Give me your number. I'll text you when I need you to do something. Which will probably be never, because I work better alone."
"Oh," Mingyu said quietly. "Um. Okay. But I actually really like this kind of project, and I have some ideas about–"
"I don't care about your ideas." Wonwoo pulled out his phone, opened a new contact. "Number. Now."
Mingyu rattled off his number, stumbling over the digits twice. Wonwoo typed it in with the contact name "Project Partner" because he couldn't be bothered to remember this guy's name long-term.
"Got it," Wonwoo said, already turning to leave. "Don't contact me unless I contact you first."
"Wait, but shouldn't we at least talk about–"
Wonwoo was already walking away, shouldering past Mingyu without a second glance. He heard Jihoon say something sympathetic behind him, probably apologizing for Wonwoo's behavior like he always did, but Wonwoo didn't care.
He had better things to do than waste time on awkward nerds who probably couldn't string together a coherent analysis if their life depended on it.
As he stepped into the hallway, he glanced down at his phone, at the contact labeled "Project Partner" with Mingyu's number underneath.
He'd text when he needed something. And considering what he was stuck with, that would be after pigs flew. Wonwoo shoved his phone back in his pocket and headed to his next class, already planning how to do this entire project solo.
◁▶◀▷
One week later, Wonwoo finally admitted to himself that this project was more work than he'd anticipated.
Not that he couldn't do it alone. He absolutely could. But between student council meetings, his actual course load, and his father breathing down his neck about maintaining his perfect GPA, he was running out of hours in the day. And as much as he hated to admit it, having someone to delegate the grunt work to would be efficient.
So he pulled up his phone, found the contact labeled "Project Partner," and typed out a message.
Wonwoo: Library. 4pm today. Private study room 6.
He didn't wait for a response. He just sent it and moved on with his day.
At 4:07 PM, Wonwoo walked into the library with his usual confidence, laptop bag slung over one shoulder, completely unbothered by the fact that he was seven minutes late. Seven minutes was basically on time by his standards, and anything under ten minutes didn't even count as late.
He spotted Mingyu immediately, exactly where he said he'd be, sitting at one of the tables near the study rooms. But he wasn't alone.
A tiny freshman, who couldn't be more than eighteen, drowning in an oversized hoodie, was sitting across from him, and Mingyu was leaning forward, explaining something with animated hand gestures.
His face was patient, warm, and completely focused on whatever concept he was breaking down.
"–so if you think about it like this," Mingyu was saying, drawing something on a piece of paper, and his voice was different than Wonwoo remembered. Deeper. Richer.
Without the nervous stutter from their first meeting, it was surprisingly smooth, the kind of voice that made you want to keep listening. "The derivative is just asking 'how fast is this changing?' That's it. Not scary at all, right?"
The freshman's face lit up with understanding. "Oh! Oh, that actually makes sense!"
"See? You've got this." Mingyu smiled, and even behind those ridiculous horn-rimmed glasses, his eyes crinkled at the corners, warm and genuine.
His whole face transformed when he smiled like that, less awkward, more... something Wonwoo didn't want to examine too closely. "Just remember that for the exam, okay?"
"Thank you so much, sunbae!" The freshman stood up and bowed, actually bowed, like Mingyu had just saved his life, and Mingyu laughed, a little embarrassed, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.
The sound of his laugh was warm, unguarded, and it did something uncomfortable to Wonwoo's chest that he immediately shoved down.
"It's really not a big deal. Good luck on your exam!"
The freshman practically bounced away, and Mingyu started gathering up his papers, still smiling to himself, pushing his glasses up his nose with one finger, a gesture that shouldn't have been endearing but somehow was.
That's when he looked up and saw Wonwoo standing there.
For a moment, their eyes locked, and something electric passed between them. Recognition, awareness, something Wonwoo absolutely did not want to name. Behind the glasses, Mingyu's eyes were a warm brown with flecks of amber, and they held Wonwoo's gaze without flinching.
Mingyu's smile shifted, became more careful, more guarded, and Wonwoo hated that he noticed the difference.
"Oh! Hey." Mingyu's smile shifted into something more polite, more careful. Then he glanced at his watch. "You're late."
Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"You said four o'clock." Mingyu tapped his watch. "It's 4:07. That's late."
For a moment, Wonwoo just stared at him. No one, literally no one, had ever called him out for being late. People waited for him. That's what they did. They waited, and they didn't complain about it, because he was Jeon Wonwoo and his time was more valuable than theirs.
"It's seven minutes," Wonwoo said, his voice dropping into that cold, sharp register that usually made people backtrack immediately. "If you have a problem with seven minutes, maybe you should reconsider whether you're cut out for working with me."
Mingyu just looked at him for a long moment, then shrugged. "Okay."
That was it. Just "okay." No apology, no scrambling to take it back, no fear. He just... dismissed it and moved on.
"Should we get started on the project?" Mingyu asked, already pulling out his laptop and a notebook that was covered in sticky tabs and handwritten notes.
Wonwoo felt off-balance, like he'd swung at something and missed. But he covered it quickly, sliding into the chair across from Mingyu with deliberate grace. "Fine."
"So I've been thinking about the project," Mingyu started, opening his notebook. "I came up with a few ideas for businesses we could analyze–"
"I don't care about your ideas," Wonwoo interrupted flatly.
Mingyu paused, looked up. There was something in his expression that wasn't quite amusement, but close. "Okay. Then what's your idea?"
Silence.
Wonwoo's jaw tightened. The truth was, he'd been so busy with everything else that he hadn't actually... gotten that far yet. He'd planned to do it, obviously. He just hadn't done it yet.
"I'm working on it," he said coldly.
"Mm-hmm." Mingyu's lips quirked, just slightly. "Okay. Well, in that case, while you're working on it, why don't we go through the ideas I have as a backup? Just to see if maybe any of them are worth considering. You know, as a fallback option."
The way he said it, so reasonable, so patient, like he was talking to a difficult child, made Wonwoo want to throw something. But he also didn't have a better option, so he just nodded stiffly.
"Fine. Make it quick."
Mingyu launched into his ideas, and Wonwoo prepared to be thoroughly unimpressed.
Except... he wasn't.
Mingyu had clearly done his research. He presented three different failed businesses. A tech startup that had burned through investor money, a restaurant chain that had expanded too fast, and a retail company that had failed to adapt to online shopping.
For each one, he'd already identified the core problems, found relevant case studies, and even sketched out preliminary arguments for how they could have been salvaged.
It was thorough. Strategic. Actually intelligent.
Wonwoo found himself leaning forward slightly, scanning the notes Mingyu had spread across the table.
"The retail one," Wonwoo said finally, tapping the page. "That one is... barely decent. Better than the others, at least."
Mingyu's face did something complicated, like he was trying not to smile too obviously. "Great! The retail company it is, then. I think we can build a really strong analysis around their failure to innovate and–"
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Wonwoo cut him off. "We haven't even outlined the structure yet."
"Right, of course." Mingyu was definitely smiling now, even as he tried to hide it. "So, we should probably set up a regular meeting schedule. Twice a week? Are you free tomorrow?"
"No."
"Okay, what about Thursday afternoon?"
"No."
"Monday morning?"
"No."
Mingyu set down his pen and looked at Wonwoo with an expression that was dangerously close to exasperation. "Okay. When are you free?"
"I'll let you know."
"Wonwoo." Mingyu's voice was still patient, but there was an edge to it now. "This is a partner project. That means both of us need to actually participate. I can't do all the work while you just show up at the end and put your name on it."
The implication hung in the air like a slap.
Wonwoo went very still. "Excuse me?"
"I'm just saying–" Mingyu started, but Wonwoo was already standing, his chair scraping back with a harsh sound.
"Wednesday at 5 PM," Wonwoo said, his voice like ice. "And Friday at 10 AM. I don't care if that doesn't work for your schedule. You want to meet twice a week? Fine. Those are the times. You better show up."
He grabbed his laptop bag and turned on his heel, heading for the exit.
"Wait, Wonwoo–" Mingyu called after him.
But Wonwoo was already gone, walking out of the library with his spine straight and his jaw clenched, fury simmering under his skin.
How dare he. How dare that awkward, plaid-wearing nobody imply that Wonwoo wasn't pulling his weight. That Wonwoo would slack off and let someone else do his work.
Wonwoo had never half-assed anything in his entire life.
He'd show Kim Mingyu exactly who was pulling their weight in this partnership.
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