Hatred - 2Min/Minmin

16

(Unedited)

Seungmin:

"But Sir, I saw it! I saw him burning the assignments," complained Seungmin, choking on his tears.

"That's the twenty-third time you're repeating the same thing, Seungmin. And what if he did? Let it go," said Wonpil leaning back to his chair.

He wore spotless shirt today with the same pair of jeans he saw him on freshers day, and leather sandals.

Minho was leaning against the door, yawning for dramatic effect. Despite the heat he wore leather jacket, a white shirt, a frayed pair of jeans and black loafers. Care less hair carefully done.

Eight years separated Minho and Wonpil but they looked the same age. Minho looked the vain, brash movie star where as Wonpil, the sincere, piercing, intelligent technocrat with a dress sense borrowed from the founder of .

In a parallel world or in a cheesy novel, they would be brothers who fall in love with the same person.

Seungmin should have been angry, and maybe he was, somewhere deep inside, but he was also a little dizzy, a little disoriented sneaking glances at Wonpil's tired, painfully cute, beautiful face, which he was convinced was one of his horrcruxes .

Seungmin had spent hours, wrong, days googling about Wonpil, downloading his images on his laptop, day dreaming about being intelligent and funny and mysterious in his class and yes, also songs, they had danced on songs together.

Fuck you Seungmin. You're a grown intelligent boy. Stop staring at him as if he's God.

But he is like chocolate. With cream and sprinkles.
Stop talking in meme language. You're not retarded.
I'm sorry, but just look at him.
Exactly. And look at you, you're ugly enough to be a different species.
Whatever. I hate you.
I am you.

Wonpil continued, his voice suddenly grave, "And Minho, you need to keep your attitude in check. The anger is cute. But I'm not one of your fans. I'm your professor and I've seem dozen of you strut their fake machismo over the years and all of them amount to nothing. You're nothing special. So the next time you're standing in front of me, you stand like a f— student. Do I make myself clear?"

Seungmin felt like giggling but restrained himself.

"Sir, but what do we do to make sure it doesn't happen again?" asked Seungmin.

"Minho, you can go. And stay out of trouble," said Wonpil, pointing his pencil at him. Minho walked out without a second look.

"And Seungmin," said Wonpil. "This isn't school so stop running around silly assignments. You're meant for greater things."

"But I don't think anyone will hire me based on the ashes of assignments, Sir."

"Answering back won't help either."

"Sorry Sir. I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay. Its better than being a sycophant."

"I didn't get you, Sir."

"I heard Professor Park say a thousand good things about you. In a conversation between Mr. Park and a wall, the wall would win. And if you're running around trying to impress that God-awful professor who can't tell a quark from a proton, you're wasting your time and mine."

Despite being scolded, Seungmin blushed, embarassed as if he was naked and Wonpil was staring. "I'm sorry," said Seungmin.

"You can go now," said Wonpil. "Ans I had read your assignment when you had submitted it. Good work."