Maybe, just maybe - Minsung

Chapter five

The room is empty, save for the persistent ticking of the clock, its sound echoing in the stillness. Clouds filter through the dusty windows, casting grey streaks across the rows of desks. Minho stands at the front, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, rubber gloves stretched taut over his fingers. He surveys the sea of tables before him, each one a tiny battlefield of filth, forgotten pencil shavings, and stubborn wads of gum clinging to the undersides. He grimaces, dreading the task ahead.

The door creaks open, and Jisung saunters in, late as usual, with that irritatingly smug grin plastered across his face. He moves with an easy confidence, as though cleaning duty is nothing but an inconvenience he can charm his way through. Minho notices him out of the corner of his eye, feeling his irritation simmer. Jisung doesn't even bother with the gloves right away; instead, he twirls them in his hands.

"So, where do we start?" Jisung asks, his voice dripping with mock enthusiasm as he finally snaps the gloves on with a dramatic flourish.

Minho doesn't answer immediately. He grabs a rag and a spray bottle, focusing on the desk in front of him. "Just pick a table and get to it," he mutters, applying cleaner to the surface with precise, methodical movements. The sooner they get this done, the better.

Jisung, of course, isn't one to take a hint. "You're no fun," he pouts, sliding over to the desk beside Minho's. "We've got all this time together, and you're just going to pretend I'm not here? Where's the excitement in that?"

The latter fights the urge to roll his eyes. Jisung seems to delight in pushing his buttons, treating it like an occupation. Normally, Minho wouldn't play along, but he's reminded of the bet. Whoever makes the other fall first wins. Minho had agreed, partly out of irritation, but mostly because the thought of outsmarting Jisung-of wiping that smug look off his face-is too tempting to resist.

"I'm not ignoring you," Minho finally responds, his tone calm but laced with subtle challenge. He turns just enough to catch Jisung's eye. "Just focusing on the job. Or is cleaning too mundane for someone like you?"

With a widening smirk, Jisung takes the bait. "Mundane? Not at all. But you could make it more... interesting."

Minho raises an eyebrow, pretending to consider the suggestion. "Interesting, huh? What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, I don't know," Jisung drawls, leaning casually against the desk as he watches Minho with those mischievous eyes. "Maybe a little competition? See who can clean faster?"

Minho lets out a short laugh. "And let you get away with doing a half-assed job? Not a chance."

"You wound me, Minho." Jisung's laughter is light, almost musical. "I'd never cut corners, especially when it comes to beating you."

But Minho shakes his head, an amused smile playing at his lips despite himself. "In your dreams."

"You keep saying that," Jisung chuckles, wiping down the withered wood with a lazy swipe. "You sure you're not the one dreaming about me?"

Minho straightens, crossing his arms as he looks at Jisung with a measured expression. "If I were, you'd be the one cleaning up after me."

"Is that a hint of flirting I hear, Lee Minho?" Jisung's eyes widen in mock shock.

Shrugging, Minho turns back to his work. "Maybe. Or maybe I just like seeing you sweat."

"Good." Jisung's grin grows even wider, clearly pleased. "I was starting to think this bet was going to be too easy."

The white-haired boy rolls his eyes but doesn't comment. Instead, he bends slightly to check under the desk for gum, and sure enough, there's a disgusting glob stuck to the underside. He grimaces, reaching for the scraper. But as he's about to start, an idea forms. If Jisung wants to play games, Minho can play too-on his own terms.