Lee Minho (Roommates) Part 1.

Sharing a flat with Lee Minho is torture. Too bad neither of you can leave.

Sharing a flat with Lee Minho should have been simple. One lease, two bedrooms, one unspoken agreement to stay out of each other's way. Instead, it felt like living with a hurricane that only knew how to leave destruction behind. Dirty dishes piled up in the sink until I washed them myself. Jackets, shoes and half-empty coffee cups appeared wherever he pleased, as if cleaning up was beneath him. When he was home, silence never lasted long. He brought a different girl over almost every week, and the paper-thin walls made privacy feel like a cruel joke. More nights than I could count ended with me wandering empty streets, waiting for the flat to become bearable again. Most days he was gone training or fighting as a boxer, but somehow the few hours he spent at home were enough to make the place unbearable. Every glance became a challenge, every conversation an argument. If there was one thing we agreed on, it was this-we couldn't stand each other.