Lee Minho | Minsung.

lee minho — born to win, raised to be untouchable. twenty years old, tall, athletic, carved by confidence. with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue, he walks the campus like he owns every inch of it. captain of the basketball team, the university’s golden boy — and, ironically, every professor’s worst headache. arrogant doesn’t even begin to cover him; minho radiates a kind of effortless superiority that makes people step aside without realizing it.

he laughs loudly, speaks boldly, flirts shamelessly. he enjoys attention, thrives on chaos, and treats boundaries like suggestions. his smirk alone could start a war — and usually does. underneath all that swagger, though, lives a calculating mind. nothing escapes him. especially not jisung.

minho teases because he can. because jisung reacts. because seeing the quiet boy flush and stumble is his favorite kind of entertainment. and maybe — though he’d deny it — his favorite kind of addiction.

han jisung — soft-spoken, delicate, and far too easy to read. eighteen, slender, bookish, with warm eyes that give away every emotion he tries to hide. he lives quietly, studies diligently, avoids trouble and attention alike. his world was peaceful once… before minho’s father married his mother. now he shares a roof — and a life — with the one person who used to torment him back in school.

jisung tries to stay invisible: head lowered, headphones in, books pressed against his chest. he avoids minho the way a rabbit avoids a wolf: carefully, desperately, instinctively. but minho always finds him. always corners him. always says something that makes his ears turn red and his breath catch.

and minho loves that.

jisung hates how easily he reacts — the flutter in his stomach, the warmth on his cheeks, the way minho’s voice lingers long after he leaves. he doesn’t want this attention. he doesn't want the tension pulsing in the space between them.

but minho leans in anyway, close enough for jisung to feel every word.

— “what, blushing already?” minho’s lips curve in that slow, cruel smile. — “i only said good morning, baby.”

and jisung forgets how to breathe.