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Minho's footsteps echoed through the empty halls of the hotel building as he made his way back. The cool air from outside still clung to his skin, but the tension in his chest had only grown worse.

He hadn't intended to be out this long, but his mind wouldn't quiet down. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that it didn't matter, that Jisung didn't matter, he kept coming back to the same question: What's going on with him?

It irritated Minho to no end. He wasn't supposed to care. Jisung was just some nerdy golden boy, a smartass who'd never hesitated to look down on him. They were enemies. That was how it had always been, ever since the start of high school. So why was he so bothered by the shift in Jisung lately?

Minho reached his room, his hand gripping the doorknob tightly before he twisted it open.

He checked both the bedrooms, but

Jisung was alone.

He was sitting at the small desk near the window, his head bent over a book, a pair of headphones resting snugly over his ears. The soft glow of the desk lamp cast a warm light over Jisung's features, but he didn't even acknowledge Minho's entrance. He was completely absorbed in whatever he was reading, too lost in his own world to care about anything else.

Minho felt a sudden spark of irritation. He couldn't put his finger on why it bothered him so much that Jisung hadn't looked up or even spared him a glance. Maybe it was the way Jisung had completely shut him out ever since Minho signed up for the same dorm group. They hadn't talked, hadn't bantered like they used to — Jisung had simply ignored him.

And Minho hated being ignored.

He slammed the door behind him with a little more force than necessary, making sure it echoed through the room. He watched Jisung out of the corner of his eye, half-expecting him to jump or react in some way. But nothing. Jisung didn't even flinch.

Seriously?

Minho stood there for a second, annoyance flaring up as he tossed his bag onto the bed. His gaze drifted back to Jisung, who was still completely focused on his book, completely unbothered by Minho's presence. It was as if he didn't exist.

The irritation simmered beneath Minho's skin, and before he could stop himself, he strode over to where Jisung was sitting. Leaning casually against the desk, he reached out and flicked the edge of Jisung's book.

"Hey, nerd," Minho drawled, his voice carrying a hint of mockery. "You're seriously going to spend the whole trip with your nose in a book?"

Jisung didn't respond. He didn't even look up. It was like Minho's words had evaporated into thin air.

Minho's eyebrow twitched, the irritation bubbling up into something more heated. Ignoring me, huh?

"Come on, Jisung," Minho pressed, leaning in slightly closer. "You're not even going to acknowledge me? How rude."

Still nothing. Jisung's gaze remained glued to the page, his fingers calmly turning to the next one. His headphones were still on, and it was clear that he hadn't heard a word Minho had said — or maybe he had and just didn't care.

Minho's patience was wearing thin. He wasn't used to this. Normally, Jisung would have some kind of comeback, some snarky remark to throw at him, and they'd fall into their usual routine of bickering. But this silent treatment? It was like Minho didn't exist. Like he was invisible.

And it was driving him insane.

With a low growl, Minho reached out and tapped Jisung's shoulder, a little more forcefully this time. "Han Jisung. Hello?"

Hey, deskmate  ;  minsung  𖦹Where stories live. Discover now