Their apartment had two rules. Do not touch Minho’s food. Do not blast music during his live streams.

Chan broke both of them regularly. “I told you,” Minho hissed, slamming the fridge shut. “If you eat my kimchi jjigae again, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

“Chill,” Chan said around a mouthful. “It was just a spoon. You seriously act like your food’s a sacred relic.” “Because it is, you barbarian. I’m a professional.”

“You film yourself eating.” “I film myself artfully eating.”

Their roommate agreement was a disaster in motion. Minho couldn’t stand Chan’s chaotic energy, his late-night music sessions, or the way he always looked annoyingly good in just a hoodie and sweatpants.

Chan thought Minho was wound tighter than a drum. Always sulking in the kitchen, speaking in curt jabs, acting like the world was one misstep from crumbling beneath his clean floors and cold stare.

It started like a prank. Chan swapped Minho’s regular noodles for an ultra-spicy ghost pepper brand. Just to see if the “Mukbang King” could handle the heat.

Minho didn’t flinch. He ate the whole bowl with his eyes locked on Chan. “You trying to kill me?” he asked, lips red, tongue blazing.

Chan snorted. “Didn’t think you’d survive.” Minho leaned in, so close their noses nearly touched. “Try harder next time.”

Chan’s heart stuttered. Was Minho always this intense? This...weirdly hot when mad? Minho stormed off. Chan didn’t sleep that night.

Over time, something changed.

Minho started leaving extra side dishes for Chan in the fridge. Chan began timing his studio sessions around Minho’s live streams. They still bickered—but now it had heat.

One night, after a particularly stressful day, Minho found Chan asleep on the couch, his guitar beside him. A half-eaten sandwich in his lap.

Minho covered him with a blanket and whispered, “Idiot.” Chan stirred. “You like me, don’t you?”

Minho froze. Chan opened one eye. “Knew it.” Minho rolled his eyes and turned away. “Don’t flatter yourself.” But he didn’t deny it.

On Valentine’s Day, Minho posted a special livestream: “Roommate Mukbang Date 💖”

Chan appeared in the frame, holding up heart-shaped kimbap. The chat exploded. Fans freaked out. Minho smiled for the first time on camera.

“Turns out,” he said, “some people are like chili oil—messy, loud, and surprisingly addictive.” Chan leaned in and kissed his cheek. “You love it.” Minho didn’t even pretend to argue.