Christopher Chan

Minho's day had clearly gone south from the very start. First, a stupid test, then a clash with some idiots in the hallway who nearly got punched in the face. Minho was famous for his prickly, hot-tempered nature—he exploded like a powder keg over the smallest things, and the entire school preferred to give this angry "cat" a wide berth.

The only person who wasn't intimidated by his foul mood was Christopher Bang. Chan was his complete opposite: quiet, imperturbable, and patient, he always followed Minho in silence, like his personal bodyguard or a loyal shadow. He would carefully lead the guy away from fights, listen to his grumbling without malice, and—what annoyed Minho the most—manage to gently tease him about his anger.

And so, now, when an enraged Minho fled to the abandoned landing behind the assembly hall, Chan followed him without a single word. Minho sat on the steps, face buried in his knees, his shoulders trembling slightly from barely contained rage and exhaustion. Chan quietly sat down beside him, feeling the waves of irritation literally radiating from the guy. The moment Chan touched his back, Minho snapped up, ready to yell and drive him away, but he collided with that unbearably calm, warm gaze. The strength to argue vanished instantly. With a quiet, defeated sigh, Minho stubbornly pressed his face into Chan's shoulder, hiding his eyes and finally allowing himself to relax in those reliable arms.

Chan tenderly wrapped one arm around him, while the other began to lazily run through his dark hair. A faint, slight smirk appeared on his lips.

"Hissing at everyone again?" Chan whispered softly right into the crown of his head, squeezing his shoulder slightly in a soothing gesture. "Relax, Chagi-ya. Your loyal bodyguard is already here, so you can let go. So, what happened this time?"