Minho

After the evening practice, Minho stepped out of the shower and shook his damp hair out, throwing a towel over his shoulders. He had just pulled on his sweatpants when the locker room door creaked open. Jisung froze in the doorway.

For a second, they just stared at each other. Jisung rolled his eyes – a sharp, exhausted look that made it clear he wasn't in the mood for any of this – and turned on his heel to leave. Minho didn't even think. His fingers closed around Jisung’s wrist before he could stop himself. Han yanked back instantly, but Minho held fast, refusing to let go.

— Talk to me.

Jisung spun around, his gaze practically burning a hole through him.

— About what?

— I saw you today, Minho said, keeping his voice leveled despite the sudden tension. — In the cafeteria. With that guy from economics. Are you dating him?

Jisung pulled at his wrist again, but Minho’s grip didn't loosen.

— Is that any of your business?

A sharp spark of irritation flared up in Minho's chest. He couldn't tell what pissed him off more – the memory of that stranger's hand on Jisung’s waist, or the fact that Han was looking at him so coldly now. Minho finally let go, his fingers dropping away.

— Just curious, he muttered, taking a step forward.

Instinctively, Jisung backed up until his shoulders hit the row of metal lockers. Minho closed the distance, his eyes locking onto Han's.

— Does he even know what you're really like?

Jisung lifted his chin, his expression hardening.

— At least I don't pretend.

Minho went completely still. The words hit a nerve because they were entirely true. With Jisung, he had always been different – stripped of the usual persona everyone else on campus saw. And that was exactly what used to frustrate him so much: the fact that Han could see right through him.

Leaning in closer, Minho planted his palm against the cold metal right next to Jisung’s shoulder, cutting off his escape.

— I don't want you to be anyone else's.