Dancing Like Butterfly Wings 🦋 yungi [▶]

33

Yunho had been elected as the dormitory leader for floors six through ten this year, replacing Lee Keonhee, who had graduated and left Cooperstone Institute behind.

As a demigod known for his organizational skills and magnetic sociability, Yunho accepted the honor with a gracious nod and a calm determination. He had promised himself—he would serve well. He would make it count.

His new room bore the number 99, etched in brass on a small plaque by the door. The highest room in the building. Tenth floor. The view from his window was nothing short of breathtaking. It was a fitting reward for a final year that promised to be extraordinary. San's close friendship had brought Yunho no shortage of luck—unlike Mingi, who had tried to coax San into rigging fortune in his favor the year before.

But there was one thing Yunho considered unforgivably unlucky.

Mingi’s new room was number eight. On the first floor.

Too far.

Too many elevator rides just to see each other. A ridiculous tragedy. Couldn’t they have at least been placed in adjacent rooms?

Still, Yunho tried to console himself—he was neighbors with San again. Perhaps two demigods born of the ocean were never meant to be apart.

“I’m going to miss sleeping across from your bed,” Mingi said, as he sealed the final box of his things.

“Stop with the farewell speeches,” Yunho muttered, refusing to meet Mingi’s eyes. He continued fidgeting with his already perfectly organized belongings, grasping for any excuse not to look at his lover. But Mingi saw right through him.

“Yunho. Look at me.”

“No.”

“This is the last night I’ll ever sleep across from you. Are you really going to end it like this?”

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like we’re dying. We can still eat together. Do laundry. Run into each other in the library or the main cafeteria. What are you afraid of?”

Yunho didn’t know what else to do with his hands. The box was packed. He should be walking out. But something—someone—kept him rooted to the floor.

“Yunho.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to hug you.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Mingi’s voice dropped. Hurt. Accusatory. Yunho hadn’t even hesitated.

“My body’s... sensitive today. Can’t take that kind of contact.”

“If you won’t even let me hug you, how am I supposed to—”

“Stop right there, Song Mingi. Just stop. My ears are sensitive too. Especially to that kind of talk.”

“Then what do you want, Phaedon?”

“A kiss.”

Mingi blinked. He actually sweatdropped.

“So, a kiss doesn’t count as physical contact now?”

“I said my body is sensitive. Not my face.”

With a sigh, Mingi leaned in and kissed Yunho’s cheek. It lingered. Long enough to draw a soft smile from him.

Then, in a single fluid motion, the son of Hades pulled Yunho close by the waist, their faces suddenly inches apart. Their eyes locked for a second—and Yunho promptly slapped a hand over his mouth to hold back a laugh.

Mingi arched a brow. “What’s so funny?”

“Your face.”

“You just called my terrifying face funny?” he scowled, releasing him. Yunho used the moment to step away again.