Chapter Text
Minho. That was the name everyone in Shiz University knew and worshiped as if he were some sort of god on earth. The students he went to school with looked up to him, adored him, wanted to be him or be with him. As expected, Minho relished in that attention; he thrived in it. Because, really, who didn’t love him? The answer to that question was simple. The one person in Shiz - and probably the whole of Oz itself - who didn’t love Minho, was his roommate.
The green-skinned, book-obsessed, son of the governor of Munchkinland, Kim Dae Heon.
Honestly, Minho still couldn’t believe his utterly horrendifying situation and the atrocious luck that got him here. On just his first day at Shiz, he was forced to room with the guy who dared insult him after he was promised a private suite, all because of a misunderstanding.
(It was a very stupid misunderstanding, mind you, where he had raised his hand because he thought that Madame Morrible was asking for someone to volunteer to be in her sorcery seminar, but had turned out to be an accidental volunteering of himself to be roommates with Dae. He was still very pissed off about that.)
Listen, all Minho wanted was to be in the headmistress’ class. And not only was he not in her seminar, which was the reason he was here in the first place, but he was also made to room with the only guy in the entire school who was.
Obviously enough, ever since that fateful day, Minho and Dae have been sworn enemies. They were always trying to get a rise out of each other, and their relationship consisted mostly of inconveniencing the other at every turn.
For example, if Minho moved all of his designer items to Dae’s side of the room in the middle of the night just to annoy him, by mid-afternoon the next day, his very expensive suitcases and clothes would be scattered back on his side in the most disrespectful way possible. Yet even that was just a slice of their rivalry; they had moments between each other that were much worse.
Regardless, as far as everyone and their mother were concerned, Minho and Dae were trapped in a dance of constantly trying to ruin the other’s life, and it seemed that neither of them was eager to leave it. Minho wanted to win, that was a given. He wanted to make Dae pay and suffer the consequences of taking away Minho’s rightful spot.
There was just one problem.
The strong feelings of hate and loathing that Minho had sworn himself to, weren’t the only feelings he felt for Dae now. No, there was something else. Something that almost felt the same as loathing, but wasn’t. His pulse still rushed when he was around Dae, his face still flushed when he was near, and his head would still reel every time he walked by. Minho didn’t understand what in Oz was going on with him, but he knew that he hated it. Hated Dae.
He loathed him, so truly, so deeply, and he knew he would do so forever. So why was that feeling becoming unsure?
-
It was midnight in the dorm of Minho and Dae, and the silence was ever palpable. The former had just finished his 10-step skincare routine and was now writing a letter to his parents, ranting about how annoying and pathetic Dae was once again. All of his letters recently seemed to be centered solely around his roommate, but for good reason. It was a complete burden having to live with the guy; all he did was stare you down and act like he was better than you. And if Minho knew one thing, it was that Dae was not better than him.
As Minho continued to scribble his perfect handwriting angrily onto the pink sheet of paper, his eyes briefly glanced over to his roommate, who had long since fallen asleep and was knocked out already. Minho scoffed at the sight of him, in his frumpy pajamas and plain bed.
He rolled his eyes as he focused back on the paper, writing faster now as more thoughts of annoyance began to fill his mind. Sweet Oz, Dae was so irritatingly awful. The disgustification Minho felt whenever he looked at the boy was far beyond anything he could comprehend. His words in his letter reflected that.
‘Momsie, if I’m being completely honest, my roommate is the personification of a curse himself. He’s so… awful. Plain. Basic. Out of place and weird. Did I mention awful? I mean, who walks around wearing those kinds of bags? And clothes? If the wizard could see him now, he would probably die on impact.’
He wrote, trying not to let too much of an angry expression come over his face. After all, he didn’t want to get wrinkles so early. Minho took a deep breath as his eyes drifted towards Dae once again, his gaze becoming sharper as he looked at him. Why in Oz did he sleep like that? No eye mask to protect his eyes, and a blanket so pathetic even a baby could tell.
‘I’ve seen students from Munchkinland who do everything better than him, and he’s the governor’s son for Oz's sake. He really does fill me with anger, Momsie. It worries me how much he gets on my nerves. I’m not fond of the idea of getting gray hairs this early.’
Minho huffed as he stopped writing for a moment, stretching his hand out to prevent cramping. As he did, a soft breath came from Dae’s side of the room, and Minho’s head immediately snapped towards the sound. Now he was breathing loudly? Oh, that wouldn’t do.
Minho promptly dropped his quill onto his desk, standing up and marching his way over to Dae’s bed. As soon as he was at his bedside, he crossed his arms, ready to kick the guy awake if he needed to. But then his eyes focused on the sleeping boy’s face, and Minho suddenly froze.
Dae looked… peaceful. Not the tense, indifferent, cold expression he usually wore during the day. No, this was something different. He looked calm and serene like he was at his best when he was asleep. For a moment Minho felt entranced. His skin looked so soft, his hair was adorably messy, and his lips were-
Stop. Wait. What?
Minho immediately shook his head, his eyes widening as he took several steps back from the other’s bed. What in the name of Oz just happened? Did he seriously just think nice thoughts about his sworn enemy for a moment? Worse, were they about… intimate things?
The older immediately made his way back to his desk, picking up his quill and beginning to panic write more hateful thoughts about the boy to get his mind off what happened.
‘Nobody likes him except his sister, and I completely understand why. I mean, what’s there to like anyway? He’s smart and diligent in his work, he’s got green skin that resembles that of a flower field, his hair is messy and endearing when it falls in his face, and his features are so delicate that they make one want to-’
As he began to realize what exactly he was writing, Minho’s eyes widened further, and he immediately threw his quill to the side before crumpling the letter and throwing it across the room. Oh no. This couldn’t be good. What was happening to him?
Minho stood from his desk chair again, pushing the offending piece of furniture back under the table before storming over to Dae’s bed again. The boy remained asleep, oblivious to the inner turmoil Minho was experiencing.
Was he putting a curse on him through his dreams? It wouldn’t surprise Minho. Aside from taking Minho’s place on the first day of school, he also messed up the main hall after the welcome speech and caused both the furniture and his sister to fly in the air. He wouldn’t put it past Dae to curse Minho into liking him.
Liking him???
Minho once more backed away from Dae’s bed, his eyebrows furrowed beyond anything he would have ever allowed if he wasn’t distressed enough to care right now. Minho always knew something was up with Dae, but he at least put faith in the fact that he would stick to loathing instead of trying to make peace. This was not what his mind agreed to.
As Minho’s thoughts began to swirl more rapidly, he could feel his face heating up, flushes of red running up his skin, and his breath beginning to quicken. The designer pajama set he had on suddenly felt too hot for his body, and Minho ran to his bed to slam his face into the mattress.
A loud groan fell from his lips as he clutched his silk sheets, the sound somehow still not loud enough to wake up his roommate. Briefly, he lifted his head to glance back at Dae, trying to catch him in the act of muttering a spell in his sleep.
Minho looked once.
Twice.
Thrice.
By the fourth time he looked back and saw that Dae was still sleeping, not a single word being uttered from his lips, Minho stood up, making a beeline for Dae’s textbooks from the classes he had with Madame Morrible. His hands worked quickly to flip through the pages of the various books, desperately searching for a spell or a reason as to why his heart was beating so fast.
He skimmed for at least 5 minutes through each textbook, his eyes frantically searching for a spell that could explain what was wrong. Eventually, he realized that there was nothing useful, and he slammed the textbooks back down and groaned loudly again. The confusifying feelings that were clouding Minho’s subconscious felt like hell, and the fact that he couldn’t control what was going on with him drove him insane.
Was he dying? That had to be it. He was dying from having accidentally inhaled too much of his many colognes and his brain was trying to conjure up positive things about his enemy so he wouldn’t die hateful. After all, Minho couldn’t go out while his brain stressed over Dae the Despisable™.
Still, that explanation did nothing to answer his other questions. Why in Oz did he think about Dae so intimately earlier? Why did he write about it in his letter when he was supposed to be writing about his annoyed feelings? And best yet, why had his annoyed and hateful feelings begun to dissolve over the past few weeks?
Soon enough, Minho decided that he couldn’t take it anymore, and stormed his way over to Dae’s bed for the 3rd time that night. He outstretched his hand, ready to smack the guy awake and demand an explanation, when the most scandalocious thing to ever grace Minho’s eyes suddenly happened.
Dae, in all his sleepy, gentle glory, let out a soft hum in the back of his throat, before turning over in his bed and hugging his covers closer.
Minho almost fainted.
The hand that was outstretched quickly fell back down to his side, and Minho, like a man possessed, dared to move just a bit closer, looking at the sleeping boy’s expression. Now that Minho was looking at him, and really looking at him, his brain concluded something that Minho never thought was possible. Dae was… pretty. Beautiful. Gorgeous, even. And that was saying something, considering the only person Minho had ever thought was beautiful was himself.
He took another step back again, but not as far this time. He was still close enough to hear Dae’s breathing, still close enough to admire how attractive he looked under the dim light. But that couldn’t be possible. Minho hated Dae. Loathed him to his very core. The only reason he would be thinking all of this, feeling all of this, was if-
Oh.
Oh…
Oh.
The furrow in Minho’s brow smoothed out as the pieces began to come together, his mind soon becoming clear as the answer to all his questions surfaced. The reason why his hate and annoyance towards Dae had lessened, the reason why he noticed his features earlier, the reason why he thought that Dae was beautiful.
Minho took slow, calculated steps back to his bed, laying down on the mattress and staring up at the ceiling. As Dae’s light snores continued to fill the air, Minho realized something he never would have deemed feasible. Something that, if you had told him he would feel this way weeks ago, he would have laughed at you and pointed in your face. But it was undeniable now. There was absolutely no refusing what had just become the cold, hard truth.
Minho liked Dae, no, was in love with Dae, and he had no idea what to do about it.