Archive of Our Own

Seungmin has mastered the art of ignoring Lee Minho.

It's a practical skill, really. Essential for maintaining focus when one shares a common room, five classes, and every meal with someone who's spent their whole Hogwarts career determined to be a nuisance. So when Minho drops into the armchair across from him—close enough that the smell of catnip rudely overpowers the woodsmoke from the fireplace—Seungmin doesn't look up from his Ancient Runes textbook.

“Studying already? We only finished dinner thirty seconds ago.”

Seungmin’s eye twitches. “Some of us have priorities.”

Wait—no. Fuck. He didn't mean to respond. He’s supposed to ignore him. But it's too late, and he can practically feel Minho’s grin widening.

“Mm,” Minho hums, sounding amused rather than insulted. “Speaking of priorities, did you finish the Potions essay?”

“Obviously.”

“How many inches?”

“The assigned amount,” Seungmin says through gritted teeth, keeping his eyes fixed on the same paragraph he's now read four times. “Slughorn said twenty-four.”

“I did thirty.”

Of course he did. Seungmin’s own is twenty-eight inches, and he'd felt quite good about those extra four until five seconds ago. But he's not going to take the bait. He won't point out that longer doesn't mean better, that their handwriting—

“I found a fascinating correlation between moonstone properties and their specific applications in Wolfsbane Potion,” Minho continues. Like Seungmin asked. Or cares. “You probably stuck to the standard uses.”

“The essay was about standard brewing practices—”

Seungmin catches himself and presses his lips together. Minho is leaning forwards now, elbows on his knees, chin propped casually in one hand. His eyes are bright with that insufferable gleam that means he knows he’s getting under Seungmin’s skin.

“I’m sure yours is fine, though,” Minho says patronisingly.

Seungmin snaps his book shut. The sound echoes off the stone walls, sharp enough that a few people glance over. He stands abruptly and turns his back on Minho, walking towards the entrance without another word.

He doesn’t storm out. He isn’t running away. He’s simply finding a better place to study, which is any place where Lee Minho isn’t.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

The castle is blissfully quiet this time of evening, most students still lingering over dessert or clustered in their common rooms. Seungmin exits the dungeons and takes a familiar route up to the seventh floor, stopping opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. He paces back and forth three times.

I need a place to study in peace. I need a place to study in peace. I need a place to study in peace.

The door ripples into existence in the middle of the blank wall, and Seungmin quickly lets himself in. The Room of Requirement has, as always, provided exactly what he needs: a comfortable armchair near a warmly crackling fireplace, an endless labyrinth of bookshelves, and most importantly, silence.

Seungmin settles into the chair and opens his textbook. He swears the fireplace didn’t smell like it was burning dried grass last time, but whatever. He draws in a slow breath, feeling his heartbeat calm back down, and finally begins to focus.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

The next morning, Seungmin leaves the dormitory with his Potions essay rolled neatly in his bag—five inches longer than it was yesterday—and his Ancient Runes translation as accurate as wizardly possible. Sure, he’d stayed in the Room of Requirement until well past curfew and had a few close calls sneaking back, but it was totally worth it.

So all in all, he’s in a good mood when he arrives at breakfast. Or at least, he was in a good mood until he sits down at the Slytherin table and finds Minho already there, looking unfairly alert for seven in the morning. The Quidditch kit bag on the bench next to him explains why. When Seungmin sits down, Minho looks up from buttering his toast and his lip quirks in an infuriating smile.

“Morning,” Minho says brightly.

Seungmin reaches for the pumpkin juice without responding, praying the owl with his copy of The Daily Prophet comes quickly.

“We had practice at dawn,” Minho continues, unbothered by the silence. “Ran a mock match against Ravenclaw. Absolutely destroyed them two-hundred-and-sixty to seventy.”

“Congratulations,” Seungmin says sarcastically, loading his plate with eggs. “I’m sure everybody is very impressed by your practice match against the team that came fourth last year.”

“Third, actually.” Minho unhinges his jaw and inhales the toast in two bites. “And they’ve got new chasers this year. It was a proper challenge.”

“A proper challenge that you won by nearly two hundred points.”

“What can I say? We’re just that good.”

Seungmin swallows his sip of pumpkin juice and lowers the goblet so Minho can see him roll his eyes. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late,” Minho says cheerfully, tapping the top of his head with one finger. “It’s already taking residence up there. Getting real comfortable.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Seungmin retorts, “considering there’s not much room up there to begin with.”

Minho laughs—actually throws his head back and laughs—and Seungmin feels the corner of his own mouth lift. He scowls down at his eggs.

“You know,” Minho adds after a moment, ears still red from laughing, “if you ever feel like going outside for once, I could—”

“Seungminnie!”

Felix appears out of nowhere, Hufflepuff robes rumpled and falling off one shoulder. He bounces up to them and loops his arm through Seungmin’s.

“There you are!” Felix says, tugging at his arm. “I couldn’t find you anywhere yesterday and I really need your help with the vanishing spell. I just can’t get the wand movement right and I have Transfiguration today!”

“Felix, I’m eating—”

“You can bring it with you!” Felix lets go of his arm and throws himself around Seungmin in an octopus hug. “Pretty pretty please? McGonagall is gonna murder me if I explode another teacup.”

Seungmin sighs, patting him on the head. “Fine, fine. Let's go.” But before he can extricate himself and move to leave, Minho beats him to it.

Minho stands and grabs his Quidditch bag. Without looking at either of them he says flatly, “I’m going too. Need to shower.”

And then he's gone, disappearing into the Entrance Hall and leaving his half-buttered toast on the table.

“Did I.. say something?” Felix asks, blinking at Minho’s retreating back with a small frown.

“Who knows,” Seungmin mutters, but he's frowning too. Shower? His hair was damp. He clearly showered already. But it's not like anything Minho does makes sense anyway, so Seungmin shakes his head. “It doesn't matter. Let’s go find a spare classroom.”

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Charms is usually Seungmin’s least favourite class on Wednesdays, which has nothing to do with Charms itself and everything to do with the fact that Minho sits two tables away, and has spent all of last month charming paper birds to fly into Seungmin’s arm.

But today, twenty minutes into Professor Flitwick’s lecture on Bubble-Head Charms, Seungmin realises that he’s actually concentrating. He can hear himself think.

Which shouldn’t be weird. Except Minho is definitely sitting in the same room, so it is weird.

Seungmin glances over. Minho isn’t even pretending to pay attention. His quill is dripping ink onto his parchment in a steadily growing blot, and he’s just… staring into space. Every few seconds, his eyes flick towards the door, and then he just goes back to having a staring contest with the wall. Okay, what the fuck? This isn’t even the same weird as yesterday at breakfast. It’s… quieter.

But then Flitwick finishes explaining the theory, and Seungmin doesn’t have time to dwell on it. Not that he was going to anyway.

“Now, pair up!” Flitwick squeaks from his stack of books at the front. “Take turns and practice the Bubble Head Charm on yourselves. Remember, visualisation is key!”

Felix grabs Seungmin’s sleeve with a grin. “Partners?”

“What? Oh—yeah.”

They stand up and find a space in the corner as the classroom dissolves into chatter and the swish of wands. Seungmin performs the charm on his first try—the air ripples, and a translucent bubble materialises around his head.

“Whoa, it looks like you stuck your face in a fishbowl!” Felix giggles before trying his own, which results in his blonde hair turning bright blue instead. Seungmin is about to explain that the water he’s supposed to visualise is clear, not blue, when he hears Minho’s voice from across the room.

“Hey, Seungmin.”

Seungmin turns. Minho is looking at him, but there’s none of the usual sharpness in his gaze. Minho opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again and says, “You have a big head.”

Seungmin stares at him. Really? That’s it?

“Even by your standards, that was pathetic,” Seungmin says before he can stop himself. He raises an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“You’re being too quiet.”

“Have you considered I’m just focused on my work?” Minho says, but he hasn’t even pulled out his wand. And there’s still no ink on his parchment in the form of actual words.

“You’re never focused on your work. You’re always—” Seungmin cuts himself off, because what is he even supposed to say? That the absence of Minho’s needling bothers him? He huffs instead. “Forget it.”

He turns back to Felix, who’s been watching the exchange with wide eyes.

“Don’t,” Seungmin warns.

Felix holds up his hands innocently. “I didn’t say anything!”

Seungmin sighs and flicks his wand, restoring Felix’s sunny blonde hair. He spends the rest of the lesson trying to help Felix get it, but he can feel his attention drifting towards the other end of the room every few minutes. Minho still hasn’t managed a single successful charm. Which is good, because it means Seungmin’s beating him.

But still… it doesn’t feel right. Minho’s lack of effort and the shadows under his eyes are distracting. That’s all it is. Distracting.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

The moment Flitwick dismisses them, Minho vanishes without a single defensive comment about his failed charms, which is definitely a first. But whatever. Seungmin has a study period to get to. He saw Peeves float through the library wall earlier, so Room of Requirement it is. An hour of productive reading later, he leaves to go to Ancient Runes.

And that’s when he notices the posters.

The first one he sees is tacked to the notice board outside the Great Hall, which is normal enough. What isn’t normal is that there’s also one on the wall directly next to it. And another one three feet down. And when he rounds the corner towards the marble staircase, he’s passed four more plastered along the corridor. They all read in big block letters:

!! MISSING CAT !! Name: Soonie

Last seen: Monday evening near the Astronomy Tower

There’s a moving photograph below the text of an orange tabby with white patches, occasionally grooming a paw or batting at a Slytherin scarf. But it’s the description that makes Seungmin pause.

Distinctive white patch on chest shaped like a wonky heart. Answers to “Soonie”, “Soon-ah”, and sometimes “Come here you menace”. Favourite treats are salmon (raw) and chicken (cooked). Likes: warm laps, attacking toes, sitting on laptops. Dislikes: loud noises, the dark, dogs. Please check your dormitories, closets, and any other possible cat-sized hiding places. He is shy so be gentle.

If found, please immediately contact Lee Minho (6th year Slytherin). He’s probably very scared and I just want him home safe. Reward offered.

Seungmin stares at the poster, at the progressively shakier handwriting up until the last line. He glances over his shoulder and counts at least seven identical posters in his field of view.

He knows Minho has a cat—it’s impossible not to, given that catnip-scented perfume isn’t exactly a thing. But Seungmin always figured it was, you know… normal cat owner stuff. The kind where you like your pet well enough but don’t, say, wallpaper an entire castle with missing posters that include a full personality profile. Likes and dislikes? Preferred nicknames? Who even writes that much on a missing poster?

Minho, apparently.

Seungmin tears his gaze away and continues towards Ancient Runes. It’s not his problem. Cats wander off all the time, and this cat will turn up eventually when it feels like it. And in the meantime, Minho’s clearly too distracted to care about academics, which means Seungmin will have an indefinite advantage over him.

It’s perfect, really.

Except when Seungmin reaches the fifth floor, there are several more posters clustered around the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower, plus a handful stuck to the walls in every hallway with what looks like Permanent Sticking Charms. By dinner, Seungmin has counted no less than forty-two posters in the West Wing alone. Forty-two.

He sits down at the Slytherin table and instantly spots Minho at the far end, gesticulating frantically to a group of bemused looking third-years. Minho’s cloak is inside out, and his hair is disheveled like he’s been running his hands through it.

“Have you seen the posters?” Felix asks, sliding onto the bench beside Seungmin with a plate piled high with roast chicken.

“Hard to miss them,” Seungmin mutters under his breath.

Felix glances in Minho’s direction and bites his lip. “He looks terrible. I really hope he finds Soonie soon.”

Seungmin pokes a sausage around his plate. “He’s probably having a great time exploring. It’s barely been two days.”

Felix’s anxious gaze lingers for another moment, before he perks up and starts talking about the Hogsmeade trip coming up that weekend and all the things he needs to stock up on, and Seungmin listens while occasionally humming noncommittal responses. From the corner of his eye, he watches as Minho flits around several other groups of students, then leaves the Great Hall entirely and conjures an armful of new posters. Seungmin glares at a potato and stabs it with his fork, ignoring Felix’s flinch.

It’s fine. Seungmin will work harder and get one up on Minho, Minho will find his damn cat, and things will go back to normal.

Any minute now.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

By Friday, Seungmin has aced two essays, come top of the class in their practical Transfiguration mock exam, and successfully brewed a flawless Draught of Peace on his first attempt.

“My, you’re on a roll!” Professor Slughorn exclaims, waddling over and peering delightedly into Seungmin’s cauldron. “Absolutely textbook! Twenty points to Slytherin.”

The moment Slughorn is out of earshot, Seungmin reflexively turns to his left with a smirk. But Minho isn’t even looking at him, too busy asking the girl sharing his bench whether she’s checked the greenhouses. Seungmin’s expression sours as he grabs a vial. This is what he wanted, isn’t it? Uninterrupted academic dominance without Minho’s constant bickering in his ear. He’s not distracted stupid commentary about his handwriting or quills dive-bombing his head or Minho’s insufferable grin when Seungmin tells him to shut up. Without all that, he’s gotten more studying done in the past three days than he normally would in a week—and he hates it.

Because it doesn’t feel like winning. It feels more like playing chess against a flobberworm.

Even breakfast feels wrong when there’s nobody across from him making obnoxious observations about his toast-to-egg ratio. And when he passes Minho in the corridors—Minho who is once again too busy asking a pair of Gryffindors about Soonie to even notice him—there’s a weird twist in his chest of something like… disappointment.

It’s just his routine being disrupted. The same kind of disappointment as when you expect to go through the door on the second floor, only to find it’s decided to be a wall today. That’s all.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

It’s Sunday evening when he overhears them.

He’s heading back to the Slytherin common room after dinner when he hears voices echoing from one of the alcoves near the dungeons. He wouldn't normally pay attention, but then—

"—never stays out overnight."

His feet stop moving.

He knows that voice. But he’s never heard it sound like… that.

“He hates the dark,” Minho is saying, his voice raw and wrecked. “He won’t even sleep with me if the lights are off. He scares so easily, Jisung, and it’s been a week and nobody’s even heard anything—”

“We’ll find him, hyung,” a softer voice cuts in—Jisung, presumably. “He can’t have just disappeared. Someone’s gotta have seen him.”

“But what if he’s hurt?” Minho’s voice cracks, and Seungmin’s heart flips unpleasantly. “What if he got stuck somewhere and he’s scared and alone and he’s waiting for me and I’m not—”

“Hey, no, stop.” There’s a sound of rustling fabric. “Soonie’s a smart kitty, okay? He’ll be fine. We’ll keep looking.”

Seungmin’s hand tightens on his bag strap. This is—he doesn’t know what this is. Some petty part of him should be pleased that Lee Minho, always so infuriatingly composed and smug, is currently having a breakdown over a cat.

But a bigger part of him thinks about Minho’s untouched plate as he darts around the house tables every mealtime. The darkening shadows under his eyes. The shaky handwriting on those posters.

He’s probably very scared and I just want him home safe.

No. Absolutely not. He’s not doing this.

Seungmin takes a step back. Then another, retreating down the corridor as quietly as possible before either of them realises he’s there. His heart is beating too fast and he can feel the blood pounding in his ears, which is stupid because he’s not the one having a crisis. He’s fine. Everything’s fine.

But by the time he gasps out the password to the common room, it still feels like a lie.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Seungmin pushes through the dormitory door hard enough that it bangs against the wall with a bounce. At least the sixth-year boys’ room is mercifully empty, everyone presumably making use of the last few hours before sunset. He drops his bag in a heap beside his four-poster bed and just stands there for a few seconds, breathing heavily.

Study. He needs to study.

Seungmin pulls out his Arithmancy textbook, props himself against the headboard, and flips it open on his lap. Chapter Twelve: Advanced Numerical Divination. He reads the introductory sentence three times, but the words might as well be in Mermish for how much sense they’re making. His mind keeps drifting back to a desperate voice in a hidden alcove.

It’s been a week and nobody’s seen him.

Seungmin slams the book shut with a groan and tosses it on the floor. He reaches for the half-finished Transfiguration essay on his bedside table instead and uncaps his inkwell. The parchment stares back at him, but all it does is remind Seungmin that there’s no satisfaction in writing the extra few inches he’d planned if there’s nobody's annoyed scowl to be smug about.

What if he’s hurt?

“For fuck’s sake,” Seungmin mutters, dropping the quill and splattering ink all across the words. He stands abruptly without bothering to vanish it and paces to the window, then back to his back, then to the window again.

This is ridiculous. He’s being ridiculous. So Minho’s upset about his cat. So what? People get upset all the time. That’s life, and it’s normal, and it’s fine. It has absolutely nothing to do with Seungmin, so there’s no reason he should be itching to punch a wall or smuggle Felix Felicis to look for that cat—

Seungmin freezes mid-step. Whoa—wait. Where did that come from?

He must be losing it. Maybe he should go try studying in the common room instead of driving himself crazy in this silence. There’s usually a few quiet corners on Sunday evenings, and the ambient noise might help him focus better.

Except.

Except Minho could walk in. Probably will walk in, given that he lives here and all. And then what? Is Seungmin supposed to just… ignore him? Pretend he didn’t hear anything and go back to their normal routine like nothing’s wrong?

But then the alternative—acknowledging it? Asking if Minho’s okay?

That’s…no. No, that’s not something they do.

He can’t stay here. He can’t go to the common room. The library will be crowded with fifth-years cramming for their mock O.W.L.s, and anywhere else risks running into people who will want to have conversations that Seungmin’s muddled brain definitely cannot handle right now.

Which leaves one option. He grabs his bag, stuffs the ink-splattered essay and the discarded book into it, and heads for the door. The seventh floor it is.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

The corridor is deserted when Seungmin reaches it, stopping in front of the familiar tapestry. Okay. He just needs… he needs…

Actually, he has no idea what he needs. A bunker? A Pensieve to dump his thoughts into? A time-turner so he can go back to Tuesday and not overhear anything?

Seungmin closes his eyes and starts pacing.

I need… something. Just—whatever. You figure it out. Give me whatever I need the most right now.

He feels silly thinking it, but the Room of Requirement has never let him down before. Three passes later, and the door shimmers into existence. Seungmin grabs the handle and pushes it open, already imagining some kind of soundproofed study space or one of those rage rooms where you go in and smash stuff.

But the room is empty.

Not ‘minimal furniture’ empty, empty like nothing. Just bare stone walls and floor lit by a single flickering torch.

Well—it’s almost empty.

In the centre of the stone floor, looking equally bewildered to find himself there, sits an orange tabby cat with a distinct heart-shaped patch on his chest.

Seungmin stares.

Soonie stares back.

“What,” Seungmin says out loud.

The Room of Requirement brought him… Minho’s cat? That’s—that doesn’t even make sense. What is he supposed to do with—

Oh. Oh, fuck. Minho needs to know. Soonie’s safe. Which means—nothing. It just means the cat is fine. That’s all. That’s good for… general reasons. Because Seungmin isn’t a monster who wants cats to suffer.

“Okay,” Seungmin says, propping open the door with his foot and making a gentle shooing motion with his hands. “Okay, you need to leave now. Go find Minho. Go on.”

Soonie doesn’t move. Just sits there and flicks his tail, letting out a hesitant mrrp. Seungmin takes a step closer and gestures more emphatically. “I’m serious. Out. Minho’s having a mental breakdown looking for you. Don’t you have any sense of responsibility? I’m sure you want to see him too.”

Soonie’s ears swivel backwards and flatten against his head.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m helping you go home.” Seungmin bends down and tries to herd Soonie towards the door with his hands. “Come on, you little—”

Soonie bolts.

Directly at Seungmin.

“Wait, no—ow!”

Seungmin tries to sidestep, but Soonie is faster. Sharp claws sink into his jeans as Soonie scrambles up his leg like it’s a tree, launching himself higher and pressing himself flat against Seungmin’s torso with all four paws dug in for dear life.

“No,” Seungmin says desperately, trying to pry him off the knit fabric of his jumper as the threads stretch dangerously. “No, I’m not—you need to go to Minho, not me. You don’t even know me, why are you—”

Soonie digs his claws in deeper, and lets out a yowl that echoes off the stone walls—loud, plaintive, and right next to Seungmin’s ear.

“Okay! Okay, fine—stop that,” Seungmin hisses. “Fine, you can stay. Shhhh.”

But Soonie won’t stop. He’s shaking, Seungmin realises with a sinking feeling. The furry body pressed against his chest is trembling, and when Soonie yowls again it sounds less angry and more terrified.

He hates the dark. He scares so easily.

Seungmin stands there, one hand hovering uselessly near the cat as the yowling subsides into pitiful mews, the other still holding his bag. The door to the Room of Requirement swings shut by itself with a soft click, and the corridor is silent aside from Soonie, who is now starting to purr.

Right. So this is happening.

Seungmin cups one hand under Soonie’s back legs so the cat isn’t just dangling by his claws, hopefully reducing how shredded his jumper’s going to be. He looks down at the furry orange head and sighs.

“You,” he says slowly, “are the worst.”

Seungmin closes his eyes and counts to ten. Then thirty. But Soonie is still firmly attached to his chest like a stubborn limpet and purring up a storm, looking every bit like he has no intentions of de-attaching himself anytime soon.

Fine.

Fine.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but we’re finding your actual owner. So don’t get too comfortable,” Seungmin mutters, wiping cat hair off his chin and turning back down the corridor. “Let’s just get this over with.”

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Seungmin hurries through the castle with Soonie in his arms, asking every person he passes whether they’ve seen Minho. But nobody seems to know where he is.

By the time he descends the final steps to the Entrance Hall, he’s pretty sure everybody except Minho now knows Soonie has been found, and that Seungmin is the one who has him. Which means he seriously needs to find Minho before the Hogwarts rumour mill does, and it has a ten minute head start on him. This is a nightmare. An actual nightmare, and he’s trapped in it by a cat barnacle’d to his torso.

Halfway across the Entrance Hall, he spots a flash of yellow robes and blonde hair near the doors to the Great Hall. Thank fuck.

“Felix!”

Felix spins around, eyes widening as his gaze travels from Seungmin’s face to the cat. “Minnie? Is that—you found him! You found Soonie!”

“Yeah, listen—” Seungmin closes the distance between them in a few quick strides, trying to sound casual as he adds, “Can you take him to Minho? I need to finish my essay and I don’t have time to find him. So would you mind—”

“You want me to give Soonie to Minho?” Felix blinks at him. Then his expression turns knowing in a way that makes Seungmin want to hex it right off. “And why don’t you return him yourself?”

“I told you I’m busy,” Seungmin lies. Before Felix has a chance to open his mouth again, he quickly reaches up to detach Soonie from his jumper. “Just—here.”

Soonie’s claws dig into his skin like tiny fish hooks.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Seungmin tries again, more gently this time, but Soonie’s having none of it. He lets out a warning yowl that echoes off the stone walls, and Seungmin sees heads turning in their direction. Great. Just great.

“I don’t think he wants to leave you,” Felix observes, sounding deeply amused.

Seungmin glares at him. “This isn’t funny.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s hilarious,” Felix says, completely unrepentant. “You look so cute together!”

“I’m being held hostage. There’s nothing cute about it.”

But Felix is already pulling out his wand, and Seungmin recognises that gleeful expression.

“Felix don’t you dare—”

“Charmilus Photographicus!”

There’s a flash of light, and then Felix is holding a magical photograph that has just captured him covered in cat hair with a purring orange menace in his arms. He’s going to get hold of that photo and burn it.

“I hate you both,” Seungmin informs them. He finally manages to free one paw, mourning the threads of his jumper that snap in the process. But Soonie flails and scratches him across the nose, claws snagging right back into the fabric. “Ow! Felix, please, just—”

“Okay, okay, I’ll help.” Felix tucks his wand away and steps closer, still smiling, and reaches out with both hands. “Come here, kitty.” For a glorious, hopeful moment, Seungmin thinks it’s going to work. Felix’s fingers brush against Soonie’s fur, and—

Soonie hisses.

It’s not a warning hiss. It’s a proper, teeth-bared, back-arched stay the fuck away from me hiss, and Felix jerks away like he’s been burned.

“Whoa! Okay, sorry Soonie. I’ll stay away,” Felix laughs, holding both hands up in surrender and stepping back. He looks at Seungmin and shrugs unapologetically. “He’s made his choice. No can do. You’ll have to deliver him to Minho yourself.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Seungmin snaps, but even he can hear how thin that sounds. Soonie chooses that exact moment to stop hissing and go back to purring, stretching up to lick Seungmin’s jaw.

“Seungmin,” Felix says softly, losing the teasing edge. He takes a half-step closer and meets Seungmin’s eyes. “Minho’s been a mess all week. Just… go give him his cat back, yeah? I think he’s in the east courtyard. Or at least he was, like, ten minutes ago.”

Seungmin opens his mouth to argue—but the words stick in his throat. He swallows thickly, letting out a deep sigh and muttering, “I hate this.”

Felix grins. “No, you don’t.”

He does. He absolutely does. But his feet are already carrying him towards the courtyard, and there’s no getting out of this now.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

The east courtyard is quiet in the evening light, just a handful of students scattered on benches with books or chatting with friends. Seungmin crunches over piles of fallen autumn leaves as he scans the perimeter. He spots Minho leaning against the far wall, turning something over in his hands. One of the posters, Seungmin realises as he gets closer. The paper is crumpled like it’s been folded and unfolded dozens of times.

Minho doesn’t notice him, too busy staring at the little moving photograph. Even from several feet away, Seungmin can see the slump of his shoulders and the creases in his robes, like he’s been sleeping in them.

Seungmin’s steps slow as he approaches. His pulse spikes uncomfortably, and he has the sudden urge to force Soonie off with a banishing charm and leave him on a bench. He still has time to turn around.

But he looks down into the cat’s wide, trusting eyes, at the paws kneading into his chest, and knows it isn’t an option. He takes a step forwards instead. Here goes nothing.

“Minho.”

Minho’s head snaps up.

They stare at each other. Seungmin’s pretty sure he stops breathing. Then Minho’s eyes flick down.

“Soonie,” Minho breathes disbelievingly. He’s on his feet in an instant, the poster fluttering forgotten to the ground.

Seungmin feels Soonie perk up the instant Minho speaks, and the moment Minho is close enough, Soonie kicks off from his chest and practically launches himself into Minho’s arms with a delighted mrrreow.

“Soonie, oh my god,” Minho chokes out, hugging Soonie close against his chest. The cat headbutts him under the chin, purring so loudly that Seungmin can hear it from where he’s standing. Minho presses his face into the orange fur and lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. “You’re okay. Oh thank god you’re okay.”

Seungmin stands there awkwardly, suddenly very aware that his hands are empty. He shoves them in his pockets. Then takes them out again. Then crosses his arms. What is he even supposed to do now?

Minho’s shoulders start shaking.

Oh no. Oh no no no, is he—

“I thought—” Minho’s voice is muffled against Soonie’s fur, but Seungmin can hear the wetness in it. “I thought I might never—I thought something happened to you, I—”

“He’s fine,” Seungmin blurts out, because he cannot handle this. He can’t handle the way Soonie is purring in Minho’s arms or the way Minho’s breath is hitching or the way it feels like his chest is going to implode. “He was just hiding. In the—somewhere on the seventh floor. He’s completely fine. Nothing happened.”

Minho lifts his head, and yeah, his eyes are definitely red-rimmed and wet, but they’re also glowing brighter than Seungmin’s seen in days. “You found him. I can’t believe you found him.”

Seungmin glances away and mutters, “Technically, he found me and wouldn’t let go.” He gestures vaguely at the loose threads hanging off his jumper as evidence. “The posters were right. Your cat is a menace.”

“What happened to reparo? Did he pull out a few braincells too?” Minho retorts with a watery smile, pressing a kiss to the top of Soonie’s head and making the cat mrrp happily. Then Minho glances up again, and something in his expression makes Seungmin want to crawl out of his own skin. “Thank you. Seriously, I… thank you. I don’t know how to—”

“It’s fine,” Seungmin cuts him off, looking determinedly at the stone wall behind Minho’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do anything, just… yeah. He’s back now, so you can stop…”

He trails off. Stop what? Stop looking miserable? Stop wallpapering the castle? Stop making Seungmin feel like he’s going insane?

“You can stop moping around now,” Seungmin settles on finally. “Go back to being normal or whatever.”

There’s a pause.

Seungmin digs his fingers into his palms and wills down the flush creeping up his neck. When he risks a glance back at Minho, he’s staring at him with an odd expression that’s part surprise, part something Seungmin can’t name. Doesn’t want to name. The corners of Minho’s mouth twitch upwards.

“Are you saying you missed me?”

Seungmin gapes wordlessly. Then he flushes harder and splutters, “What? No, I didn’t. That’s not—”

“Kim Seungmin,” Minho says slowly, and his voice has that familiar teasing lilt again even though his ears are turning red, “are you admitting that you actually missed me? Because that’s what I’m hearing.”

“Shut up,” Seungmin mumbles. “I just meant that you were being weird. And annoying. The weird kind of annoying. Not the normal annoying.”

“The normal annoying,” Minho repeats, his eyes glittering despite still being puffy. “That implies you prefer it when I’m annoying you.”

“That is not what I—” Seungmin groans and scrubs a hand over his face. He can feel the heat radiating from his burning cheeks. “Forget it. Your cat is back. You’re welcome. I’m leaving.”

He turns to go, but a hand catches his wrist.

Seungmin freezes. Minho’s hand is warm, his fingers light against Seungmin’s skin, and when Seungmin looks back, Minho is watching him uncertainly with Soonie cradled in one arm.

“Thank you,” Minho says again quietly. He glances down at Soonie, then back up at Seungmin, before quickly looking away again as he continues, “Really, I just… thank you. Thank you for bringing him back to me.”

Seungmin swallows hard. His wrist is still caught in Minho’s grip, and he should pull away. He really should. But he doesn’t.

“Your cat wouldn’t let me pass him off,” Seungmin mumbles instead. “Trust me, I tried.”

Minho grins. “He has good taste.”

And then, mercifully, he lets go.

Seungmin quickly steps back, trying to ignore the way his wrist is tingling where Minho’s hand was. Good… taste? What does that even—oh.

“I’m leaving,” Seungmin announces, spinning on his heel before his face can combust entirely. “Enjoy your cat.”

“Seungmin, wait—”

But Seungmin is already walking away, probably too fast to be casual, definitely too fast to be dignified, heart kicking wildly against his ribs. Behind him, he hears Minho let out a breathless laugh, and he walks as fast as he can without breaking into an actual run.

He doesn’t look back. Doesn’t think about Soonie, doesn’t think about the lingering warmth on his right wrist.

He makes it all the way back to the Entrance Hall before he realises he’s smiling.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Seungmin wakes up at dawn the next morning with a solid plan: pretend yesterday never happened.

In theory, it should be simple. All he has to do is go back to his normal routine of studying, acing classes, ignoring Lee Minho’s existence, and everything will return to equilibrium.

So he gets dressed, grabs his bag, and heads down to the common room before anyone else is awake. The fire has burned down to embers, casting a dim orange glow across the stone floor, and he settles into his usual armchair beside it. At this rate, he’ll have more than enough time to finish his ink-splattered Transfiguration essay before breakfast.

Three paragraphs in, something soft brushes against his ankle.

“Ah—!” Seungmin flinches with a yelp. He looks down to see a familiar orange cat winding around his legs, tail high and purring like a tiny motor.

“Oh. It’s you,” Seungmin sighs, the adrenaline rushing out of his body. He turns back to his parchment. “I’m busy. Go bother Minho.”

Soonie lets out a chirruping mrrp in response. He crouches down on his back legs, wiggling his butt in that distinctly feline way that means only one thing.

“Don’t even think—”

Soonie launches himself directly onto Seungmin’s lap.

“Why?” Seungmin hisses, snatching his essay up before Soonie can smother it. “What is wrong with you?” Soonie just kneads his thighs a few times with his paws, circles twice, and flops down across his legs in a boneless lump. He starts purring.

Seungmin should move him. But then he remembers how well that worked out last time. And besides… Soonie is warm and solid in his lap, which isn’t the worst thing in the world when the fire hasn’t warmed up yet. Soonie smooshes his face insistently into Seungmin’s limp hand, and when Seungmin experimentally scratches behind one ear, the purring gets louder.

Fine. Whatever. He can work around the cat.

He shifts the parchment to the arm of the chair and tries to resume writing, but it’s significantly harder with a purring furnace restricting his elbow movement. Seungmin manages another two sentences before he hears footsteps on the boys’ dormitory staircase, and freezes.

He knows those footsteps. But if he doesn’t look up, it might not be real.

“Well, well.”

Fuck.

Seungmin’s quill jerks across the parchment in a jagged line. He still doesn’t look up. Maybe if he treats him like a bee and just doesn’t react—

“I head out for Quidditch practice and what do I see? Kim Seungmin, cat kidnapper extraordinaire, strikes again.”

Seungmin’s head snaps up despite himself. Minho is standing at the bottom of the stairs in full Quidditch gear, leather gloves tucked into his belt, hair flattened on one side like he just rolled out of bed. His eyes are sparkling, though, in a way Seungmin refuses to admit he’s glad to see.

“I’m kidnapping him?” Seungmin says incredulously, looking pointedly down at Soonie, who has now rolled onto his back and is batting lazily at the collar of his robes. “Your cat kidnapped me, actually. I was having a perfectly productive morning until he showed up.”

“Productive,” Minho repeats, a smile tugging at his mouth as he leans against the doorway. He runs a hand through his messy hair. “Is that what we’re calling sitting in the dark at six in the morning?”

“There is literally a fire.”

“It’s embers.”

“That’s still fire.”

Minho huffs a laugh and pushes off the wall, crossing the room to stand in front of Seungmin’s armchair. He looks down at Soonie. “Come on, Soon-ah. Your breakfast is upstairs. You can bother the puppy later.”

“What did you just—” Seungmin starts, but Minho is already reaching for Soonie. His hand brushes Seungmin’s knee in the process, and he’s so close his hair is barely an inch away from Seungmin’s nose. Seungmin’s brain bluescreens. Error 404: thoughts not found. What is happening.

Soonie, meanwhile, goes completely limp. Dead weight. When Minho tries to scoop him up, Soonie lets out a pitiful mewl and hooks his claws into Seungmin’s jeans.

“Traitor,” Minho grumbles, but he’s smiling. “You’re supposed to be loyal to me, you know. I’m the one who feeds you.”

Seungmin finally pulls himself together enough to say, “Wow. That’s actually impressive. Your own cat likes me more than you.”

Minho scowls. “No way. He’s just comfortable.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” Seungmin tries to hide his smirk and fails. The indignant look on Minho’s face is nearly worth the way his heart is trying to beat out of his chest. And then, because apparently his brain is still offline, he adds, “Besides, you said he has good taste. Are you taking it back now?”

Minho’s eyes widen slightly, his ears visibly reddening, and Seungmin immediately wants to hex his own tongue out. What is he doing? Why did he say that? That was—that was—

“I—” Minho starts, not meeting Seungmin’s eyes. He clears his throat. “No. No, I’m not taking it back.”

Seungmin’s mouth snaps shut. He didn’t play it off as a joke. He could’ve, but he didn’t. That means—

He’s suddenly hyperaware of how close Minho is still standing, how the common room is still empty except for them, how his face is definitely heating up.

Soonie breaks the moment by stretching luxuriously and yawning, showing off all his tiny teeth. Minho straightens abruptly and clears his throat again.

“Right. Well. I have practice.”

“You said that already,” Seungmin points out automatically.

“I’m saying it again.” Minho shifts his Quidditch bag to his other shoulder. “For emphasis.”

“Very emphatic of you.”

“Shut up.” Minho heads towards the exit, then pauses and glances back over his shoulder, lip quirking. “By the way, don’t let him eat your parchment. He does that sometimes.”

“He does what—”

“I’ll see you at breakfast.”

And then he’s gone, and Seungmin is left sitting there with a cat colonising his lap, a still unfinished essay, and the distinct feeling that pretending yesterday didn’t happen isn’t going to work.

“You,” he tells Soonie, “are causing so many problems.”

Soonie nuzzles against his hand and Seungmin sighs, scratching behind Soonie’s ears again, feeling the rumbling purr vibrating against his palm.

But maybe, he thinks, watching Soonie’s eyes squeeze shut in contentment, maybe… there are worse problems to have.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

It happens on Tuesday evening.

For the past day and a half, Soonie has continued his campaign of territorial conquest over Seungmin’s lap, and Minho has been insufferable about it.

“He’s clearly trying to tell you something,” Minho says now, lounging in the armchair across from Seungmin in the common room with Quidditch Through the Ages open to page one. “Cats are excellent judges of character.”

“Your cat has been licking his ass for the past five minutes,” Seungmin says flatly, not looking up from his Potions notes. “Forgive me if I don’t take his character judgement seriously.”

Soonie, the subject of discussion, has indeed been draped across Seungmin’s lap for the past twenty minutes, and Seungmin gave up trying to move him after the third time he got a warning hiss and a paw to the face. Soonie pauses his grooming routine to chirp indignantly, as if he understands he’s being insulted.

“See? You hurt his feelings. Besides, my point still stands.”

“He’ll survive.” Seungmin reaches over Soonie for a fresh roll of parchment. “Unlike you, if you don’t shut up and let me finish this. Aren’t you supposed to be reading?”

“I am,” Minho says shamelessly, flipping to page two without even glancing down. “Besides, that write up isn’t due for another three days. You’re just trying to beat my word count again.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Seungmin lies.

“Uh-huh.” Minho shifts in his chair, and Seungmin can feel his eyes on him. “How many inches are you on?”

“None of your business.”

“So fewer than mine.”

“I didn’t say that,” Seungmin snaps, glaring across at Minho. “You’re trying to distract me.”

“Is it working?” Minho asks hopefully.

“No.”

“Your cheeks are pink.”

“The fire is warm.”

“The fire is six feet away from you.”

Seungmin grips his quill tighter and takes a deep breath. Okay. In. And out. He’s not doing this. He’s going to finish this paragraph about wider bezoar applications, and then he’s going to bed, and Minho can sit there by himself looking unfairly attractive in the firelight all he wants—

Wait. No. Not attractive. Annoying. Minho looks annoying.

Seungmin forces his attention back to his parchment. “Why are you still here anyway? Don’t you have literally anything better to do?”

“Not particularly. Besides, this is entertaining.” Minho flips another two pages without reading them. “Your handwriting gets smaller when you’re stressing about word count. You’re currently writing in ant-sized script.”

Seungmin’s quill pauses. He refuses to look at what he just wrote. “I’m not stressing. You’re the one who can’t help making everything into a competition.”

“Says the person who jinxed my cauldron last month because I was ahead of you.”

“That was an accident.”

“You literally said ‘oops’ before it sprouted legs and ran off.”

“Coincidence,” Seungmin mutters. Soonie stretches across his lap, and Seungmin absently scratches under his chin. “And even if it was me, you deserved it anyway. You wouldn’t stop humming that stupid song.”

“Hey, it’s a classic!”

“It was irritating.”

“You’re irritating,” Minho shoots back. “But you don’t see me jinxing you.”

Seungmin snorts. “That’s because you’d miss.”

Minho gasps in mock offense. “I have excellent aim, thank you very much. I’m a Chaser.”

“Well, most of us have better things to do than flail around a pitch.” Seungmin dips his quill into the ink with a huff. “Like studying, for instance. Since you know, we’re literally at school?”

“Riiight, because I definitely failed all my O.W.L.s. Oh wait,” Minho leans back with a smirk, “I got the same number of Outstandings as you.”

Seungmin clenches his jaw. “Barely.”

“A win is a win, puppy,” Minho says loftily.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? Felix calls you way worse.” Minho’s tone is light, but there’s a slight edge to it. “What was it yesterday? Seungmoo? Minmin?”

“Felix can call me whatever he wants.”

“Clearly,” Minho scoffs. “He can also apparently drape himself all over you whenever he wants, and you don’t seem to mind that either.”

Wait… what? Whoa, okay. Where did that come from?

Seungmin blinks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Minho says quickly. Too quickly. “Just an observation.”

“Felix is my friend,” Seungmin says slowly.

“Obviously. I know that.”

“So what—” Seungmin stops, studying Minho’s face. The way his ears are turning pink again. The white knuckles where he grips his book. “Oh. Oh my god. Are you jeal—”

“No,” Minho blurts before Seungmin finishes the sentence.

“You are.” A laugh bubbles up in Seungmin’s chest, even as his heart starts pounding. “You’re actually jealous of Felix, aren’t you?”

“I’m not jealous,” Minho snaps, book sliding off his lap with a thud as he suddenly stands up. The sound echoes in the now-empty common room, which somehow feels much smaller around them. “Why would I be jealous? It’s not like I care who you—” He stops.

“Who I what?” Seungmin demands, setting his quill aside.

“Nothing. Forget it.”

“No, finish that sentence.” Seungmin stands to face Minho properly, Soonie jumping off his lap with a yowl of protest. “Who I what, Minho?”

“I said it doesn’t matter.”

“It clearly does if you’re getting so worked up about it.”

“I’m not getting worked up.”

“You absolutely are.” Seungmin steps closer, something reckless surging through him. “Just admit it. You’re jealous”

Minho’s eyes flash. “Fine. Yes, I am. I’m jealous that you—” He makes a frustrated noise, “—that you let him hang all over you and you smile about it, but when I so much as look at you, you act like I’m just an inconvenience you have to put up with. Which maybe I am, but it’s impossible to have a straight conversation with you.”

Seungmin’s mouth goes dry. “That’s not—”

“It is,” Minho cuts him off. “And you’re always with Felix or sitting with your nose in a stupid book so there’s no other way to—” He stops and takes a deep breath. “Forget it. This is stupid. I’m going to bed.”

Seungmin stares at him, and it finally clicks into place. Stupid. He's stupid. They're both idiots. He clears his throat and says weakly, “You’re jealous. You’re jealous because you…”

“Because I what, Seungmin?” Minho challenges, taking a step forwards. They’re standing closer than they ever have before, so close that Seungmin can see the flecks of gold in Minho’s dark eyes. “Since you're so smart, figure it out. I'll wait.”

“You—” Seungmin swallows thickly, heart beating in his throat. “You like me.”

“Congratulations. You’ve discovered basic observation skills,” Minho says sarcastically. “Must be nice, being brilliant enough to fin—”

Seungmin kisses him.

He didn’t mean to. One second he's standing face to face with Minho, and the next his hand is gripping the front of Minho’s robes and he’s tugging him down, pressing their lips together to shut him up because if Minho keeps talking, keeps saying things like that, Seungmin is going to lose his mind.

For one, horrible second, Minho goes completely still, and Seungmin’s brain catches up. Oh god. Oh god, he just—

Then Minho kisses back.

Minho’s hand comes up to tangle in Seungmin’s hair, the other around his waist, and he makes a soft sound against Seungmin’s mouth that sends a giddy thrill through him. The hand around his waist tightens, pulling him closer as Minho crowds forwards, and Seungmin lets himself be pressed back against the chair.

It’s messy and desperate and oh god they’re in the middle of the common room someone could walk in at any moment, but the logical part of Seungmin’s brain is officially shot to oblivion.

When they finally break apart—only because breathing is apparently necessary—they’re both breathing hard. Minho is staring at him with slightly dazed eyes, cheeks flushed, and Seungmin is sure he doesn’t look much better himself.

“You—” Minho starts, voice rough.

"Shut up," Seungmin mumbles. His face is burning, and he can’t think straight with Minho’s hand still in his hair.

"You just—"

"I said shut up." Seungmin kisses him again, mostly to make sure he actually does shut up, but also because now that he's started he doesn't think he can stop.

"So," Minho murmurs against his mouth, and Seungmin can feel him smiling. "Does this mean—"

"If you finish that sentence, I'm hexing you."

Minho laughs breathlessly. "Worth it."

Seungmin wants to argue, wants to maintain some dignity, but then Minho leans in to kiss him again and all his protests die in his throat.

When they pull back again—back in the loosest sense, since neither of them have actually let go—Seungmin manages to gather enough brain cells to grumble, “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

"Absolutely not." Minho grins. "Kim Seungmin kissed me first. I'm putting that in my diary."

"You don't have a diary."

"I'm starting one specifically for this."

"You're ridiculous."

"And yet." Minho's eyes are sparkling. "You still like me anyway."

Seungmin groans and drops his forehead against Minho's chest. "Unfortunately."

"That's the most romantic thing you've ever said to me."

"I’ve literally never said anything romantic to you."

"Exactly. So it's automatically the most romantic." Minho's hand starts playing with the hair just above Seungmin's neck, and he shivers. "Besides, I'll take it. 'Unfortunately' is basically a love confession from you."

“Most people go on dates before they get to love confessions,” Seungmin mumbles against Minho’s chest, refusing to look up. “And before kissing, for that matter.”

“Guess you couldn’t help yourself. I’m just that irresistible,” Minho says, and Seungmin can hear the self-satisfied grin in his voice. Seungmin pulls back just enough to glare at him.

“I was trying to shut you up.”

“Sure you were,” Minho sing-songs, but then his expression softens as he adds, “Kidding, kidding. But.. if you want to do things properly,” he pauses, and when Seungmin’s gaze flicks up to meet his, he almost looks nervous. “Come to Hogsmeade with me. This weekend. Like… actually with me, not just coincidentally ending up in the same shop.”

Seungmin grins uncontrollably. “Are you asking me out?”

“No, I’m asking you to a platonic day trip after we just spent five minutes making out,” Minho quips. His ears are red again. “But, you know. Only if you want. No pressure.”

“I—” Seungmin takes a breath. “Yeah. Okay. Yes.”

“Yeah?” Minho’s smile is blinding.

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely going to make you say it again.” Minho reaches for Seungmin’s hand, threading their fingers together. “Multiple times.”

Seungmin kisses him instead of answering, and from somewhere near the fireplace, Soonie lets out an approving purr.

EPILOGUE

The Great Hall is bustling with the usual breakfast chaos when Seungmin slides onto the bench at the Slytherin table. He’s barely glanced around when someone drops into the seat next to him—close enough that their shoulders press together.

“Morning,” Minho says cheerfully, already reaching across him for the toast.

Seungmin tries very hard to keep his face neutral. “Morning.”

“Sleep well?”

“Fine.”

“That’s good.” Minho’s free hand finds his under the table, and Seungmin nearly combusts on the spot. “Because I had the best dream.”

“Please stop talking.”

“It was about this really annoying person who finally admitted they liked me—”

“Minho, I swear to—”

“WAIT!”

They both freeze. Seungmin looks up to see Felix standing on the other side of the table, pointing at them with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open.

“Wait wait wait, hold up.” Felix’s gaze darts between them, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Why’re you sitting on the same side? Aren’t you supposed to sit on opposite sides and glare at each other?”

“Felix,” Seungmin starts, but then Felix’s eyes flick down.

“NO WAY!” Felix shrieks, loud enough that several people turn to stare. “You’re holding hands! Are you two—WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?!”

“Last night,” Minho supplies helpfully, while Seungmin tries to phase through the bench.

“LAST NIGHT?” Felix scrambles around the table and grabs Seungmin’s shoulders with both hands, shaking him hard. “And you didn’t think to TELL ME?!”

“It was past curfew and—”

“You could’ve sent me an owl!” Felix pulls back, grinning so wide his face might split. “But anyway, you have to tell me! I want all the details. Did you kiss? Please tell me you kissed.”

Seungmin chokes on air, very aware of the growing numbers of students turning to stare. “Felix, please—”

“He kissed me,” Minho announces, looking absolutely delighted. “In the middle of an argument. Just grabbed me and went for it.”

“I hate both of you,” Seungmin mutters and whacks Minho’s arm, but he’s smiling in spite of himself.

Felix squeals again, bouncing on his feet. “This is the BEST thing that’s ever happened! I want a full play-by-play later,” he demands, waggling a finger at Seungmin as he starts to back away. “Every detail. What you said, what he said, everything.”

“Absolutely not,” Seungmin says.

“I’m your best friend, I need to know! And I deserve compensation for watching you both be idiots for way too long.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Lunch!” Felix calls out, still walking backwards towards the Hufflepuff table. “You’re telling me everything at lunch or I’m stealing your favourite quill!”

“You can’t just blackmail—Felix!” But he’s already gone, practically skipping back to his table.

Seungmin drops his head on the table with a dull thunk.

“That went well,” Minho says brightly. He pokes Seungmin’s shoulder and drops a spoonful of scrambled eggs on his plate. “Come on, eat. I don’t want you to pass out trying to beat my essay.”

Seungmin lifts his head with a scoff. “I’m not trying, I’m going to.”

“Sure you are.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Minho says confidently, squeezing his hand under the table. Seungmin sighs, but his lip twitches into a smile as he squeezes back.

“Unfortunately.”