Jisung / Minsung

After his evening workout, Minho stepped out of the shower, shook out his damp hair, and draped a towel over his shoulders. He'd just put on his sweatpants when the locker room door creaked open. Jisung paused in the doorway.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Jisung rolled his eyes—a sharp, exhausted look that made it clear he wasn't in the mood for this—and turned abruptly to leave. Minho didn't even hesitate. His fingers tightened around Jisung's wrist before he could stop himself. Jisung jerked away, but Minho held him tightly, not letting go.

• Talk to me.

Jisun turned around sharply, his gaze practically burning a hole through him.

• About what? - I saw you today,

"Minho said, keeping his voice even despite the sudden tension.

— In the cafeteria. With that guy from the economics department. Are you dating him?

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

• Does this concern you?

A sharp spark of irritation flared in Minho's chest. He couldn't decide what was more irritating—the memory of the stranger's hand on Jisung's waist or the fact that Han was looking at him so coldly. Minho finally let go of his hand, his fingers releasing.

• Just curious,

— he muttered, taking a step forward.

Instinctively, Jisung stepped back until his shoulders hit the row of metal lockers. Minho closed the distance, his gaze landing on Han.

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

Jisun raised his chin, his expression hardening.

• At least I'm not pretending.

Minho froze. The words struck a chord with him because they were absolutely true. With Jisung, he was always different—without the familiar mask everyone else on campus saw through. And that was what had previously irritated him so much: how Han could see right through him.