One day in school Han {you}and Minho were paired to clean the classroom because that’s what everyone does before leaving and while cleaning suddenly Minho crossed his arms, leaning against the cold brick wall. “You’re impossible.”

Han smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets. “And yet, you’re still here.”

Minho rolled his eyes, but he didn’t leave. The night air buzzed between them, heavy with something unsaid, something that had always lingered in the spaces where words failed.

“You hate me, don’t you?” Han’s voice was quieter now, the teasing edge gone.

Minho hesitated. He wanted to say yes, to pretend that Han was nothing more than an irritation, a storm he wished would pass. But his pulse betrayed him, racing as Han took a slow step closer.

“I tell myself I do,” Minho admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Han tilted his head, watching him carefully. “And do you believe it?”

Minho swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He could lie. He should. But when Han’s gaze dropped to his lips, and the space between them disappeared, Minho knew the truth had already been written in every glance, every unspoken moment.

“Stop thinking,” Han murmured, so close now that Minho could feel the warmth of his breath.

And before Minho could, Han kissed him.