Minho

Minho and Jisung are classmates who somehow always end up paired together: partners on projects, seated at the same desk during lectures, and the constant subject of jokes about how they're basically a couple.

Professors already know that putting them on the same team guarantees results. Annoyingly good ones. They bicker through every single step, but their dynamic just clicks. Minho brings the structure, Jisung brings the ideas. They finish each other's sentences without meaning to and anticipate each other's moves like they've been doing this for years instead of just one semester.

Lately, Minho has caught himself noticing things he shouldn't. The way Jisung laughs – sudden and loud. The way his hands move when he gets excited about an idea. The weird tightness in his chest whenever someone else makes Jisung smile first.

Jisung never talks about his family, or much of anything personal. He hides behind sarcasm and a wall of indifference, but Minho has started to see right through it. He notices how Han completely shuts down when certain topics come up, and the way he looks at Minho sometimes, as if he's trying to figure out a riddle.

To everyone else, they're just the duo that works too well. But underneath, something has been building for months. Neither of them says it. Neither of them will.

Tonight, they're the last ones left in the media lab. The monitor glows blue in the dark room, casting long shadows across the desks. Minho leans back in his chair, absently spinning a pen between his fingers. Jisung is right beside him, close enough that Minho can feel the warmth of his arm without even making contact.

A long, lingering silence stretches between them, completely taking over the empty room.

Minho stares at the editing timeline on the screen, not really focusing on the footage.

— If I look at this screen for another five minutes, my eyes are going to melt, Minho muttered, dropping the pen onto the desk.