Lee Minho

Jisung was used to being invisible. His hoodie was two sizes too big, his gaze was always downcast, and his headphones constantly blasting rock music—the perfect armor against the outside world. But this armor instantly crumbled the moment Minho appeared in the hallway.
Minho was perfect, captain of the basketball team, a teacher's pet, and the owner of a smile that took Jisung's breath away every time. And Minho knew exactly how Jisung felt. That was the main problem.
"Hey, Han-ie," Minho leaned casually against Jisung's desk in the chemistry lab, knocking over a neat stack of notebooks. "Are you staring again? Did you think that if you stared longer, I'd suddenly become yours?"
The laughter of Minho's friends echoed in the half-empty classroom. Jisung quickly ducked down to pick up his notebooks to hide his flushed ears.
“I was just looking at the board,” Jisung muttered quietly.
"Really?" Minho leaned down, grabbing Jisung's chin and forcing him to look up. His own eyes sparkled with cold superiority. "Remember, Jisung. You're nothing to me. Don't get carried away, it's even pathetic."
Jisung froze, unable to escape that icy touch. Minho brazenly yanked one earbud out of his ears, listened to the hiss of the guitars for a second, and winced.

• What rubbish. And your music is as pathetic as your chances.
  Minho nudged him in the shoulder and headed for the exit, winking at the group at the door. Jisung remained sitting in silence, slowly picking up the crumpled sheets of paper from the floor. His heart was beating treacherously, not from resentment, but from that same stupid, ineradicable feeling.
  He knew that for Minho, he was just a convenient target for self-esteem boosting. And the worst part was that Jisung was willing to endure this ridicule endlessly, just so Minho would even look in his direction sometimes.