You can't sit HERE 🙄 | a 2min story |

Who's that...

Seungmin's morning routine was as mundane as ever. Toast with jam, a careful selection of which hoodie to wear, a quick check that his English homework was in his bag. He fell into step beside Minho on their walk to school, chattering about a new song he'd been learning. Arriving at their lockers, Seungmin's cheerful rambling was cut short. Leaning against Minho's locker, a boy with fox-like eyes and a mischievous grin was listening to whatever Minho was whispering with rapt attention. "Seungmin, this is Han," Minho said, his arm casually thrown around the newcomer's shoulders, "My boyfriend." Seungmin felt a pang of something uncomfortable in his chest, something that felt suspiciously like jealousy. He swallowed it down, forcing a smile. "Hi, Han, nice to meet you," he chirped, before escaping to the sanctuary of his English class.  Chan immediately noticed Seungmin's unfocused gaze. "You alright, Seungmin?" he asked, concern furrowing his brow. "Yeah, fine," Seungmin mumbled, unable to meet his friend's eyes. Lunchtime arrived, and Seungmin, tray in hand, made his usual beeline for Minho's table. Only to find Han already occupying the seat next to him, the two of them laughing at something on Minho's phone. With a sigh, Seungmin turned away, heading for the quiet solitude of the rooftop.

The rooftop door closed with a soft thunk behind him. Seungmin slumped down against the wall, suddenly feeling very alone. He picked at his food, his appetite gone. Why did seeing Minho with someone else bother him so much? They were just friends, weren't they?  He replayed the scene at the lockers over and over in his head. The easy way Minho had his arm around Han, the shared jokes, the way their eyes seemed to only see each other. Seungmin squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the image.

Later, English class felt like it stretched on for an eternity.  He couldn't shake off the image of Minho and Han, their laughter echoing painfully in his ears. He tried to focus on the words in the textbook, but they swam before his eyes. 

Chan gave him another concerned look. "Seriously, Seungmin, you're spacing out more than usual. Something's definitely up."

Seungmin just shook his head, offering a weak smile. "Just tired," he lied, hating the worried crease that appeared between Chan's brows.

"Okay," Chan said, though he didn't sound convinced. "But you know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

Seungmin nodded, warmth blooming in his chest.
—
The bell signaling the end of English jolted Seungmin back to reality. Heaving a sigh, he gathered his things and trailed after the other students heading for their next class. Math class was the last thing on his mind, his thoughts still a tangled mess of Minho and Han. As he neared the classroom, his heart sank. Han was already sprawled in a seat beside Minho, the two of them deep in conversation. Minho glanced up as Seungmin hesitated in the doorway and shot him a quick smile. Seungmin forced one in return just as Minho excused himself to go to the bathroom. This was his chance.

Seungmin made his way to the empty seat beside Han, but before he could even lower himself onto it, Han's hand shot out, gripping his arm. "You can't sit HERE," Han snarled, his voice low and threatening.

Seungmin recoiled, bewildered. "Why not?"

Han scoffed, his face contorted in a sneer. "Because this seat is for people who matter. I don't want just anyone who doesn't know their place sitting next to my boyfriend."

Hurt and anger bubbled up in Seungmin's chest. Before he could respond, Han continued, his voice taking on a smug, almost boastful tone. "Besides, Minho wouldn't want you here anyway. Not after last night," he smirked, leaning in conspiratorially, "Let's just say, he's got better things to think about, if you know what I mean."

Han launched into a detailed and vulgar description of his night with Minho, his words washing over Seungmin like a bucket of ice water. The blood drained from Seungmin's face. He wanted to shout, to scream at Han for tainting the image of Minho he held so dear, but his throat closed up. He stumbled back, bumping into a desk in his haste to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the classroom. Without a word, he fled, the image of Minho's face, twisted in apparent pleasure from Han's description, seared into his mind. The bell for the start of class rang, ignored as Seungmin bolted for the sanctuary of an empty bathroom, his stomach churning, tears pricking at his eyes.
—