Chapter Text
Lee Minho is actually a very kind human being. Believe me, he really is. But it's only for a specific group of people.
And Han Jisung is not one of them.
Ever since Minho was a kid, his parents always compared him to Jisung. Because Jisung was smart. He was the best in the class. In elementary, in middle school, in high school. He was always better than Minho. And he didn't care about that.
Minho did not want to be smart. To be that smart. He didn't want to study mathematics, he didn't want to be the top in his class. He didn't want to finish his high school with the highest score.
Which he didn't. Because his life purpose was not to drown in academics, he was much more of an athletic person.
Not in a sports way. But he was flexible and had stamina. Perfect for dancing.
He loved music, loved moving his body to it more. Free, expressive, in tune with his emotions. Waking up and sleeping at the studio, being a part of every project and event that contained any type of dance.
Minho always wanted to be a dancer. Even before he knew his own name.
So Minho didn't care about the comments his parents did in his classes. Their eyes were blinded by the 'perfect' boy next door anyway. (Everybody Hollywood Action.)
Minho wanted to attend the University of his dreams. But his parents didn't let him. Because in their eyes, dance was only a hobby.
But it was Minho's entire life.
Instead, he rolled to the University of SKZ. It didn't have a Modern Dance Faculty. Expectedly. But he could get lessons from professionals that were making courses in one of the buildings.
To get away from his parents, he decided to stay in the dorms. His luck was good at finding a great roommate. Seungmin, he was like the best guy known to man kind, except his bratty attitude.
But it was how he was showing his love to his friends. Even if he said he hated Minho, always bitched at him, and some nights made him want to jump out the window, Seungmin was a great friend. He also kept the room clean most of the time, so he was literally the best roommate, best- best friend.
Minho also was living his best life in University. Going to his dance course, getting out with friends, drinking, partying and enjoying his young adult life.
Being far away from his parents, doing decent in his studies, being known around the campus.
His life around was simple, same, organized and enough for Minho.
Until one day, he failed his math test.
It was not even the exam. Just a simple quiz their professor made them take. But as Minho got the paper in his hands. He froze as he realized he knew literally nothing.
This was bad.
Because his parents always knew his notes. Always. He couldn't even lie about them.
So after the accident of his quiz, Minho studied day and night. He cut off from his dance course. His beloved dance course. He stopped attending parties. He slept and woke up in the library four times a week. He tried to do his best in his classes for once in his life.
And it didn't pay him off.
Actually it did. Because he passed. By 1 point.
His parents went feral. His mother called him enough times that he left his phone in his room and went out after a while. His dad texted him for a week straight about his note and Minho fucking hated it.
Minho hated how they didn't realize that, this was what Minho wanted. He wanted to be great at dancing, not to be great at some stupid numbers and letters lined up for him to get something from.
*ﾟ+✧*。
As his mother called him for the 109th time of the week, he finally answered it.
"Minho, we need to talk about your grades."
Not even an 'hello'. Not a 'how are you'. Not a 'what are you doing'. Grades? What grades? He's not a high schooler anymore. He's not a child anymore. He's 21.
"I'm great mom, thanks." he mumbled.
"I can't believe how you are not taking this seriously."
Minho inhaled sharply and let out his frustrated sigh loud enough for Seungmin to lift his head up from his pillow and take a look at him.
He put his phone on speaker and threw it on their table. He got up and walked to his wardrobe. He needed to go out.
"I'm worried about your future Minho. Can't you see what you are doing to yourself right now?"
Minho paused for a second.
Two.
Three.
A deep breath.
He chose one of his shirts with little cat paws on it. Black, oversized and comfy. The right thing for him to get lost in. Breathe deeply. Something that will not feel like a load on his back.
"You need to get a grip of yourself." It was obvious she was trying so hard not to yell.
"I'm telling you, because I wanna be accurate. If you don't get a grip of yourself, I'm getting you out of that school and out of that course."
Minho's hands froze mid air as he reached for his sweatpants.
Of course. Just what he thought.
"When are your exams?" his mother asked.
Minho inhaled. Sighed.
He took the sweatpants and turned back to the table, getting the phone out of the speaker and holding it to his ear.
"Minho when are your exams!?" He was glad the speaker wasn't on or his ear would have exploded by the sudden yell.
He didn't really know when they were. Minho shot a look at Seungmin's direction. He lifted his fingers to Minho.
"In 4 weeks."
"I better see you get better or not..." She paused, as Minho heard some rustling over the phone. "Don't make me disappointed."
Minho was left to the beep beep sound of the ended call.
He slowly lowered the phone from his ear. Holding it so tight he swore it shattered a little. He inhaled once again and put the phone back at the table.
To change his clothes, Minho went to the bathroom of their small dorm. Or maybe he just didn't want to face his roommate after his mother's breakdown.
Again.
As he closed the door, he put his head back onto it. He couldn't believe he was about to cry. When did his life become so unlivable?
Minho's eyes shifted to the mirror in front of him.
Nose and ears red, was it because of his anger or the tears he was holding back?
Probably both.
He needed to get a grip, really. He walked to the sink and washed his face with cold water, hoping it would be able to clear his mind.
How in the world was he supposed to get better at this shit? He didn't understand anything he made on that paper. He couldn't even believe he passed when the notes were updated to the system. He forgot all the formulas he learned from all of those videos. There was no way he could improve only by studying by himself.
He could've asked his friends. But they'll not understand it. They are not better than him anyway.
He sighed as he changed and left the bathroom. He went back to his bed to grab the keys, knowing Seungmin most likely would be asleep when he turned back.
As he searched his bed and table, and finally found the keys. He took his phone too, shoving it to his pocket. Seungmin shifted in his bed, facing him.
"Dude, are you okay?"
Minho scrunched his nose, as he turned to face Seungmin. "Yeah, why wouldn't I?"
Seungmin eyed him up and down carefully, one eyebrow up. He tilted his head after doing it six times, and gave him a unconviced look.
"I know you hate talking about your parents and the things you struggle with." Seungmin started, Minho immediately tensed up. Seungmin was always so straight-forward with his talking, always reading Minho like an open book.
He didn't want to talk about his parents because there was nothing to talk about actually. He doesn't even remember a single time he felt happy with them. Minho was always like a project of their own. A clay they wanted to shape like they intended.
Whatever he did was never enough in their eyes. Getting 8 answers right out of 10 was not something to be proud of, if there was someone who got them all right.
"But I want you to know that you don't need to be the person they want you to be. And you can make your own desicions. I'm sorry but they literally suck. No offense. You don't need to stress yourself over them."
Minho chuckled. It was true, he didn't need to be the person they wanted him to be, but he was forced to be that. If he had things his way, he would be in the art faculty instead of finance. Dancing his insides out.
Unfortunately. This was the life he was forced to live and there was no escape.
"And If you would like, or you'd think it would be better, I know one of Chan's friends that tutors people. He's also his roommate." Seungmin smiled at him. "So he can do you a favor by lowering the price."
Minho raised his eyebrow. "Tutors people. Who?"
Seungmin nodded his head. "I don't really remember him but I saw him once i think. He's kind of a nerd, you know? Chan said he has anxiety so I don't talk to him that much."
Minho laughed this time. "You don't talk to him because he has anxiety or you don't talk to him because you're too busy sucking Chan's dick."
"Fuck you." Seungmin gave him a middle finger as he turned his back. "Forget it I'm never helping you again."
Minho chuckled loudly. "Love you too!"
He wore his sneakers and left the room.
*ﾟ+✧*。
Outside was a little cold, the fresh breeze was pushing his hair back. As he looked up to the dark sky, he sighed deeply.
What was he going to do with his life?
Will he be a professional dancer like he wants? Is it too late for it now? Maybe he can try teaching it. What will studying finance add to his life? Is he going to have a job he hates with his all? Or is he going to achieve his dreams?
The more he thought, it seemed almost impossible. There was no way for his parents to agree to it anyway. What if he lies to them?
They'll know. They always know.
Will they stop bothering him when he graduates? Will they skip his graduation again like they did at high school?
Ah. What a nightmare.
He hated that day. He still hates that day. It was supposed to be a great memory, with all of his friends, and his parents. But it didn't go on as Minho planned.
His own parents took photos with another boy. With their neighbour's son.
With Jisung.
What the fuck was that even so special about him anyway. What did his parents see in him. What was Minho lacking, that Jisung already had. He remembers crying in his prom suit at the back of the restourant their school rented for them.
Minho sat on a bench on the sidewalk. He closed his eyes.
He kept swiping his tears away, like they were gonna come back. He lifted his head to look for his mother, or father to come looking for him. Hug him, congragulate him.
Tell him that they were proud. They never did.
He remembers other things from that night too. That a classmate of his coming. Comforting him and asking Minho to dance. He didn't know her name at that time. But he let her take his hand and pull him back to the restaurant.
Minho didn't know where his parents went. He didn't realize when all of his classmates and friends started gathering up with him. Becaming a bunch of people. A lot of giggles, talks, jokes and promises made.
For a second he thought maybe that day was not ruined at all.
Until he looked over his shoulder, completely unconscious. He still doesn't know why he had the urge to look back at that moment. But when he did. He locked eyes with the devil.
Jisung. Han Jisung.
Who had a big pout on his lips and tears in his eyes. Minho didn't realize when that satisfied smirk got on his face, but when he laughed at the boy's face, Jisung frowned, closing his eyes as he sobbed alone, at the corner of the room.
Minho felt evil. Why did it felt so wrong?
Where were Jisung's friends? When did the people around Minho get this crowded? He watched as Jisung left the place still sobbing. It was kinda strange seeing Jisung like that for the first time.
Was Jisung jealous? He was looking straight at Minho. As he was surrounded by so many people, while he was there sitting alone.
How sad...
Jisung can be all smart if he wants. His parents can hate him for not being successful. But Minho will always be known. People will always love him. Because he has the charms. And he knows how to use it.
Minho smirked as he remembered the moment. He felt evil again. Why did he think of Jisung getting jealous of him when he felt bad and needed motivation?
Because Jisung was nobody, while everybody knew who Minho was. He didn't need to be like him. Actually, Jisung needed to be like Minho. He was literally perfect.
Psh, screw his parents.
But if they insist. Then he'll do it. He'll be the most perfect man alive. Handsome, sweet and smart. Tutoring? Easy. Chan can help him with the price, there are no problems, really.
Minho stood back up. Feeling happy and energetic.
If he hurries a little, he can make Seungmin get out of his bed to open the door for him.
He ran back, but opened the door with his keys.
The dog was asleep. Who sleeps before 11 PM?
*ﾟ+✧*。
Minho decided to try again on his own before fully committing to getting tutoring. One last time.
He couldn’t even say he didn’t have the money.
How hard could math really be? He’s been taking this class for years already. Child’s play. Please.
Okay, don’t believe him just because he says that.
Minho did try. He really did. He tried with everything he had. Because he has to try. There is no other way. There is no other option. If he doesn’t try, his whole life ends. If he doesn’t try, he stops breathing.
So he read the question with all of that in mind.
Again.
He sat at one of the long wooden tables in the northern corner of the library. The library is always cold, no matter the season. Summer or winter, it doesn’t matter. It always smells like paper, coffee, and sadness.
His book was open in front of him. His notebook. All the necessary supplies. On one side, his teacher’s quiz. Right in front of him, his phone propped up against his water bottle, playing the lecture video.
You can do this, Minho. This is the third time you’re watching the same video.
Calm down. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Just like the video says, close your eyes for four seconds.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Okay. Now open them. Focus. What was the title of the video again?
No, Minho. Not that. Focus on the question. The question.
His shoulders were stiff from sitting in the same position for hours, so he rolled them slightly. He tilted his neck to the right, then to the left, cracking it. It should be easy. He should be able to do this. Everyone does this. Everyone can do this. Haven’t they been learning this stuff for years? Even idiots can do this. Even Hyunjin can do it, if someone explains it slowly enough.
So why can’t you do it, Minho? What’s wrong with you?
No. Stop. Focus. The question. What was the question?
If X equals-
Minho closed his eyes. He pulled his hoodie up until it covered most of his face. Stop whining, Minho. You can do this. It’s easy. Easy. Focus.
Close your eyes for four seconds.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
He let out a deep breath and opened his eyes again. He pushed his hoodie back and rolled up his sleeves. He read the question again. Picked up his pen. Hovered it over the page.
But it wasn’t working. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t even make a single mark on that huge, white, humiliating empty space beneath the question.
Why can’t you do it, Minho?
Everyone else can.
He can’t, because his brain won’t stay still. His thoughts scatter in every direction. Nothing stays in one place. Like a liquid being violently shaken.
He read the question again, underlining every word. And read it again. And again.
He slammed the tip of his pen against the table. A few students turned to look at him. He didn’t care. No matter what he did, he couldn’t understand it.
He stared at the questions in front of him. He froze. He got angry. But no matter how long he looked at them, they didn’t change. They didn’t solve themselves.
Even though their meaning changed with every second Minho spent staring.
In the first second, they were just a simple math problem.
In the second, all the classes he never listened to.
In the third, an exam paper.
In the fourth, his parents’ disappointed looks.
In the fifth, his greatest enemy.
He tilted his head back and leaned into the uncomfortable chair. He stared at the ceiling. Old, cracked, tiled. Mold everywhere. Maybe that’s why he feels sick. The lights are too white too. Maybe that’s why his head hurts.
No. Focus, Minho.
He lowered his head and looked back at the page. Picked up his pen again.
Okay. You don’t have to solve this one. Solve another question. Just one. One single question.
He chose a random one and forced himself to try. He leaned closer to the paper, hunched over, reading carefully. Like a small child who just learned how to read.
His phone vibrated with a notification. When the screen lit up, he noticed the time.
01:27. Of course.
He’d been here since 3 PM. How many hours was that?What did it even matter? What did you learn, Minho? What did you understand?
Before coming here, he had gone to dance practice. His shoes felt uncomfortable from not being worn for weeks. An unfamiliar feeling for Minho. Feeling distant from the thing you dedicated your life to.
His phone vibrated again.
Again.
And again.
Until whoever was texting him lost patience and decided to call.
Seeing his mother’s name on the screen made his chest tighten even more. He picked up the phone and turned it face down on the table. He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
What was he supposed to say?
He tensed up. Leaned back again. Started fidgeting with his fingers. Cracked his thumb. Then his index finger. He took deep breaths, but it didn’t calm him down. He brought his hand to his face. Closed his eyes. Breathed again.
One.
Two.
Mom.
Dad.
He saw himself behind his closed eyelids. Standing frozen in the kitchen doorway. Not even having the chance to drop his backpack, change his clothes, or go up to his room.
His mother leaning against the counter, arms crossed over her chest. That look on her face.
His father sitting at the dining table, Minho’s exam paper in his hands. Carefully examining every red mark his teacher had written. Then looking up at Minho. That frown on his lips. The disappointment in his eyes.
Pointing at the paper. “Han Jisung got a perfect score.” His mother nodding. “Why couldn’t you?”
No. Don’t think about that. Not now. Focus.
He clenched his teeth. Forced himself to focus on the problem in front of him.
If X equals-
His leg started bouncing under the table without him noticing. He tried to stop it, hooking his leg around one of the chair legs.
It only made it worse. Holding himself back. Not being able to move. Not being free.
He wanted to get up right then and there. Leave. Get away. Walk. Run. Crawl. Jump.
Dance.
He imagined the clean floor of the studio beneath his feet. His ears filled with loud music. The place where he lets himself go, does whatever feels right.
The meaning of his life. Dance always made him feel light. Free. Alive.
Studying does the opposite. Studying suffocates Minho. It hits him at his most vulnerable point and wraps its hands around his throat.
Minho took a deep breath and started packing his things. It’s not working. He can’t do it.
When he stood up, the sound of his chair scraping against the floor made a few people look at him again. He slung his bag over his shoulder and left the library.
It was cold outside. Empty. Lonely.
There was no one there except the streetlights stretching to the end of the road and the students heading back to their dorm rooms.
Minho reached the front of the dorm building.
Stopped.
He was out of breath, like he hadn’t just walked from the library to the dorm, but across two cities far apart. His backpack suddenly felt like it wasn’t holding two or three books, but entire sacks of weight. He bent forward, hands on his knees.
When his heartbeat finally slowed down, he lifted his head and looked to his left.
He met his own eyes in the huge full-length mirror by the entrance.
His hair was messy. Dark circles under his eyes. His cheeks flushed red. He shivered, then got annoyed at himself. Straightened up and walked toward the mirror, stopping right in front of it. He raised his finger and pressed it right above his head.
“You’re not stupid.”
His breath fogged up the glass. He pulled his finger back, ran a hand through his hair, trying to fix it as much as he could. Rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands.
When did you get this tired, man?
After one last sigh at his pathetic reflection, Minho stepped inside the building.
When he entered the room, Seungmin was already passed out. Still wearing his baseball practice clothes, laptop near his feet, gloves scattered on their shared desk. Coaches must’ve pushed them hard today. It was obvious.
Minho’s chest ached a little anyway.
At least he’s doing what he loves.
Lucky bastard.
While Minho had been wrestling with math for hours in the library, other people were out there doing things they actually enjoyed. How nice.
Just the motivation he needed.
*ﾟ+✧*。
“So... you’re getting tutoring now?”
Jeongin stuffed a huge donut into his mouth.
Minho grimaced when he saw his puffed cheeks and stretched jaw. These kids had zero respect.
“Unfortunately...” he mumbled.
Minho really had to get this done today. That was why they’d decided to meet Chan. If only they hadn’t run into Jeongin on the way. Now he was definitely going to get mocked for studying for days and still not understanding shit.
And the air fryer was broken, too.
Minho was extremely desperate.
“Finally.” Seungmin grinned in the direction his head was turned toward, lifted his hand, and started waving.
Minho and Jeongin turned their heads too. They watched Chan walk toward them with a cute smile on his face.
“Hyung, you finally came!” Jeongin practically jumped up from his chair.
Wow. This level of disrespect, really?
Just wait till that air fryer gets fixed...
Seungmin scolded him. “Jeongin, don’t talk with your mouth full.”
He got up from the chair across from Minho and slid into the one beside him. Chan took the empty seat.
“Hyung, this is the one who wants tutoring.” Seungmin said.
Chan looked at Minho, then at Jeongin.
Minho had met Chan before. He was in the same department as Jeongin too. But still-no greeting?
“Wait,” Chan said, glancing between Minho and Jeongin again. “Both of you want tutoring?”
“I don’t think I should be calculating X while I'm singing, hyung.” Jeongin said smoothly, without even choking on the donut.
Did this kid ever eat at home?
Chan let out a small laugh. Then continued, “Good. I can’t take more than one person anyway.”
He grabbed a cookie from the table and took a bite.
Minho felt tense.
Getting tutoring wasn’t a bad thing. He just needed a bit of help, that was all. When Chan asked why he wanted tutoring, Minho hesitated-but he really needed it.
Chan’s roommate had tutored before. He was already tutoring one person now, and he’d agreed to give Minho a discount.
This might actually work.
“I’m not just saying this because he’s my friend,” Chan added with a big smile, “but our Prod is a total genius. In music and in classes.”
Minho felt relieved hearing that. If the guy was really that good, he could fix his grades. Get high scores.
“Prod?” Jeongin looked up from his phone.
How many times did they have to tell him not to look at his phone when people were talking?
And seriously-what kind of nickname was that?
Chan turned to Jeongin. “Because he makes his own songs. They’re really good, by the way. That’s why we call him that.”
Then Chan turned to Minho and grinned slyly.
“But you can call him Prof too.”
“Ha. Ha.” Minho pretended to laugh.
When he saw Seungmin burst out laughing, he slammed his hand on the table. “What?" He grinned at Seungmin. “What should I do? Call him daddy? Like you.”
Jeongin spat out his water and started coughing. Seungmin froze for a second, locked eyes with Chan, then looked back at Minho, now glaring.
Minho stood up before anyone could say another word.
“Text me the days and times.” he said to Chan. Chan nodded. His cheeks were red.
Looks like Minho hit the jackpot.
After getting his answer, Minho walked out of the café. He ignored whatever Seungmin was shouting after him and put his earbuds in.
This was handled. The rest would be easy.
Good job, Minho.
*ﾟ+✧*。
Calm down, Minho.
After talking with Chan about which days worked, they’d settled on Tuesdays and Fridays.
And today was Tuesday. Right now.
After his last class, Minho went back to his room and took a shower. Packed his bag with what he thought he’d need and headed out.
Chan and 'Prod’s' dorm was far from his and Seungmin’s.
Why was this campus so huge?
Also-didn’t this guy study music with Chan? Was he really good enough at math to tutor?
Damn. Some people were genuinely interesting.
With every step Minho took, with every meter closer to the dorm, his nerves tightened more.
He wasn’t afraid of needing help. He just didn’t know how to act around a stranger.
He didn’t even notice when he reached the building, too busy drowning in his own thoughts. He hesitated before stepping inside.
You can do this, Minho.
He got into the elevator and pressed the button.
Room 42. Second door on the left after getting off. That’s what Chan said.
He stepped out and froze in front of the door.
Stared at the room number for a few seconds. Took deep breaths. Took two steps back. Then stepped forward again.
You don’t need to be this scared.
One last breath in. Out. Eyes closed. He lifted his hand and knocked lightly, four times.
He stood there with his eyes closed for a moment-then opened them when he heard sounds from inside.
A door opening. Closing. Footsteps approaching slowly. The lock turning.
And-
The door opened. Just enough to show part of the person’s body, but all of his face.
Minho’s eyes widened. His blood ran cold. It felt like a shockwave hit his brain all at once. His hands turned ice-cold.
He blinked. Once. Twice.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six-
“You’re late.”
Jisung said.