Hey, deskmate ; minsung 𖦹

1.

"Minho, Jisung, office. Now."

The teacher's voice rang through the classroom. Minho groaned loudly, while Jisung adjusted his glasses nervously, wondering what he could have possibly done to get dragged into trouble.

Inside the office, the principal sat them down, looking more tired than angry. "Minho, your grades are atrocious. You're flunking almost every subject, and it's clear that your 'strategy' of ignoring class isn't helping."

Minho leaned back in his chair, not fazed. "So what? I can always repeat the year."

The principal's eyes narrowed. "Not this time. You're going to sit next to Jisung for the rest of the semester. He'll help keep you in line, and maybe, just maybe, you'll learn something, so you can actually graduate."

Minho scowled. "No way. I'm not sitting next to him."

But the principal wasn't budging. "You don't have a choice. Jisung is your new seatmate."

Jisung blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected to be dragged into this mess. "Uh, I don't think—"

"It's settled," the principal interrupted. "You'll start tomorrow. Dismissed."

Minho stormed out, muttering curses under his breath, while Jisung quietly followed, still processing what just happened. His jaw clenched tight. The conversation was still ringing in his ears—"You're going to sit next to Jisung for the rest of the semester. He'll help keep you in line, and maybe, just maybe, you'll learn something, so you can actually graduate." As if Jisung, the perfect little genius, could fix anything. The thought alone made his blood boil.

His footsteps were heavy as he stalked down the hallway, already planning his escape. He had no intention of sitting through another boring lecture, especially not with him. He glanced around quickly before ducking into the nearest bathroom, the perfect hideout. He shoved open a stall door, intending to kill time until class was over. His heart raced with frustration, fists clenching as he thought about Jisung's stupid smug face when they'd been told the news.

But just as he was about to lock himself in, a voice stopped him cold.

"Skipping class again, Minho? There's only a few minutes left."

Minho froze, his grip tightening on the door. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The cool, unimpressed tone could only belong to one person—Jisung.

"What's it to you?" Minho snapped, spinning on his heel to face him. Jisung stood just inside the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his brow furrowed. He was still in his uniform, crisp and proper, looking every bit the teacher's favorite. The sight only fueled Minho's anger.

Jisung raised an eyebrow. "I don't care what you do, but if we're going to have to sit together, you should at least try to show up."

Minho scoffed, stepping closer until he was right in Jisung's face. "You think you can boss me around just because you're the teacher's pet? You don't know anything about me."

Jisung didn't flinch, standing his ground. "No, but I know you're wasting everyone's time—including your own. Do you ever stop to think about that?"

Minho's chest tightened with fury. The nerve of this guy, standing here acting like he had everything figured out. He leaned in, his voice low and threatening. "I don't need some smartass telling me what to do. Stay out of my way, or you'll regret it."

Jisung's eyes narrowed, but he didn't back down. "You're making it hard for anyone to stay out of your way when you're always causing trouble, Minho."

"Shut up. I'm going back to class." Minho growled, shoving past him. He wasn't in the mood for this, not today. Not ever.