at shinhwa university, two students dominate their respective circles.
san, a popular and talented computer engineering major known for his chivalry and skill, and wooyoung, the arts student and outgoing gossip enthusiast who has his finger on the p...
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if san had even the slightest intention of letting out a chuckle at the way the newcomer had butchered wooyoung's name, all such plans were swiftly swept away with the slow, drifting wind when he turned to see who it was.
minho raised his eyebrows as seconds ticked by unbeknownst to anyone—the three individuals standing before him, initially stumped by the gossip queen's post, were now rendered even more speechless by this fool's interaction.
he raised a brow. "well?"
san grumbled, his patience thinning. his annoyance only grew when he caught sight of wooyoung, whose lips were parting like he actually intended to reply to minho. stepping in before wooyoung could dig himself a hole—or worse, invite minho into their business—san inserted himself into the conversation like an emergency brake before a car crashed into a wall.
"well, no," he responded flatly, his arm hovering over wooyoung as if the mere presence of his limb could prevent whatever questionable decision was forming in wooyoung's mind. wooyoung shot him a look—the kind that made san feel like he had just crash-landed onto this planet and into wooyoung's life without explanation. it was full of confusion, curiosity, and maybe just a hint of judgment.
san met his gaze head-on. "how do we know what he's playing at?" he questioned, his tone heavy with suspicion.
"...by talking to him and trying to find out?" wooyoung answered, his voice laced with the kind of slow, patient reasoning one would use on a child struggling with basic arithmetic.
san exhaled sharply. "that's not the issue."
this guy—this stupid, built yet compact menace—stood there, tapping his foot impatiently like he had somewhere better to be. as if he had any right to be annoyed. in san's mind, the situation was clear: this was the last person someone as painfully soft as wooyoung needed to be dealing with.
"i know you're a sucker for gossip, but he's the wrong guy to be messing with," san warned, his hand pressing against wooyoung's shirt like a human seatbelt.
wooyoung, of course, took offence immediately.
"what kind of character assassination is that! and who are you to decide what i get to do and don't—"
"i'm not deciding for you," san interrupted, his voice level and calm, though his patience was waning. he looked at wooyoung with an expression that read, 'please use the two brain cells i know you have.' his voice softened slightly, more deliberate now, as he enunciated each word with the kind of care reserved for high-stakes conversations. "i'm trying to protect you because that's what b—ow!"
his sentence was abruptly cut short as wooyoung, with the speed and precision of a trained assassin, delivered a sharp kick to his ankle.
san stumbled back with a strangled noise, hopping on one foot as he clutched his poor, unsuspecting ankle.
