CHAEBEOL | minsung

three

˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖

"Minho, you can take the seat... There. Next to Han Jisung."

It took everything Minho had not to swear. He contented himself with muttering a string of curses in his head, instead: Isn't Han Jisung the head boy that Hyunjin told me to avoid? Fuck, shit, this isn't fucking real...

But it was. Hyper-real, even, as Minho sat uncomfortably in the chair that Han Jisung kicked at as Minho sat down. Not enough to dislodge him, but enough to catch Minho's attention. It was with serious reluctance that Minho turned to glance at Jisung. 

The younger was staring ahead as though he didn't know Minho was looking at him. He had his arms folded and he was leaning back in his chair. It was only the flare of his nostrils and the firm hold of his jaw that proved it - Jisung was annoyed. 

Minho noted for a moment how strange this was, that boyish features - wide, clear eyes, round cheeks, swathes of fluffy hair - could be so sharply set in place. That someone who looked so innocent could radiate something evil.

"Eyes to yourself, freak." 

Jisung's mouth had barely moved and yet each word was clear as day. Once again, innocent image betrayed by a cruel tongue. Minho rolled his eyes. 

He refocused his gaze on the teacher, who was unaware of the feud starting to simmer between the two boys. Even when they returned to their textbooks, the teacher was oblivious to a sharp movement from Jisung sending Minho's book tumbling to the floor.

"You don't need to act like this. I'm happy to keep my head dow-" Minho muttered as he reached to pick up his textbook.

"Who gave you permission to speak to me?" Jisung interjected. He still didn't look at Minho. 

Pretty features warped just as quickly on Minho's face. Feline eyes screwed up in criticism and he was unable to bite his tongue any more than he already had. 

"Is the Head Boy not supposed to listen to his loyal subjects?" Minho mocked, voice low to avoid further attention.

"I have no time for insignificant beggars," Jisung retorted.

"So you want to see me beg?" A tilt of Minho's head as he asked it, eyes now widened and blinking coquettishly.

With this, Jisung allowed himself one long, lingering stare. He had to give it to the new boy; Minho looked like he was carved from stone, reshaped and resolved until the sculptor reached perfection. And yet Jisung's eyes dragged on imperfection - poorly dyed hair, scars from piercings not long since removed, face tarnished with dark eye-bags and bitten lips. 

"I'd like to see you shut your mouth." No emotion, just said plainly. Minho's jaw quirked up into a grin. 

"You really are pleasant, aren't you?" Minho breathed. He'd leaned in towards Jisung. 

"Touch me and I'll have you killed," came a low threat from Jisung. 

Minho's grin bubbled into a laugh. Noticing a discerning glare from the teacher watching them, Minho returned his attention to his notebook. He scribbled the answers to a few questions - Maths was easy to him, and so he took barely any time to finish the exercises written up on the board in front of the class. Jisung watched through lowered eyelashes as Minho answered them with ease.

It was a sly comment from Jisung, unexpected and unprompted, that flipped the switch inside Minho. 

"Nice work. What is it, whore mother outsourcing her genius son to get closer to the elite?"