Chapter Text
Minho groaned as he flopped down onto a couch, dramatically throwing his hands over his face. "You're never gonna let this go, are you?"
"I was the one who walked in on it, I'll never be able to forget," Changbin muttered, dragging a case of beer across the floor like it physically pained him.
"Oh my god, you take it up the ass one time by mistake, and you become a fag forever," Minho complained, shaking his head like it was a personal tragedy.
Jeongin loudly repeated, "How do you take it up the ass by mistake?" He stopped for a second, barely holding back his laugh as he taped up a banner that said WE'RE BACK, BITCHES! in obnoxious red glitter. "Did you slip and fall on San's dick?"
"This is why I don’t drink Jägerbombs anymore," Minho sighed, rubbing his temples like he was reliving the entire experience.
Seungmin, who was pretending to be more invested in testing the speakers with an obnoxiously loud bass drop, quipped, "Yeah, let's blame the alcohol for you getting wrecked under the Christmas tree."
The guys scattered across the living room seemed to find endless amusement in Minho’s misfortune, but that was kind of the point. It was what made them them — a mix of misfits, assholes, and friends who understood that it was okay to be awful to each other. They gave each other hell, sure, but when it came down to it, they were a team, a fraternity that had somehow managed to survive without completely burning down their house.
"Are you guys making fun of Minho's slip-up story again?" Chan's voice sounded from the top of the stairs, followed by the thud of his steps as he descended into the chaos. "We have way bigger issues now."
"Uh-oh, here comes the speech," Changbin announced, half-mocking, half-curious. "What now?"
"It's a new year already. You know what that means..."
They all stared at him in silence for a moment before collectively groaning, "First party of the year."
"Exactly." Chan nodded, surveying the half-decorated living room like a general assessing the battlefield. "We have a reputation to uphold, this party needs to be legendary."
Minho shot him a deadpan look while tossing a handful of glow sticks onto the table. "Legendary? Chan, the last 'legendary' party ended with people setting the couch on fire."
"And this party has to top that." Chan crossed his arms. "We’re doing this right. Big. No lame themes, no weird gimmicks, just good music, good drinks, and—"
"Hot freshmen?" Changbin suggested.
Chan gave him a wink, grinning. "Hot freshmen."
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Hyunjin sighed as his head fell back, making his chair tilt on the back legs. His dorm room was finally quiet, Jisung and Felix having left to god knows where and disappearing a few hours ago. The silence should've calmed him down, but after the constant noise of the first week, the stillness of the dorm only managed to make him feel more unsettled.
College wasn't what he expected. Contrary to popular belief, he knew that art school wouldn't be easy. It was no medicine or engineering, but it was exhausting. His body ached from hours of hunching over his desk, his hands stained with oil paint that wouldn't come off no matter how hard he scrubbed them.
But the physical part didn't even weigh on him the most. The constant need to create, to prove he deserved to have his scholarship and that he wasn't just some kid with a pretty portfolio who got lucky — that was burning right in his chest.
Hyunjin groaned softly, opening his eyes to face the canvas on his desk. He lifted the half-finished painting of the campus skyline, furrowing his eyebrows. Like if he looked at it with a mean enough expression, the painting would grow a mouth and tell him what it was missing. It felt as if the canvas was making fun of him, with its smudged and uneven colors, rushed, messy and out of place. Pretty much how he felt.
The sharp creak of the door suddenly opening startled him, jerking him out of his daze. The two chair legs he’d been balancing on betrayed him instantly. Hyunjin yelped as he tipped backward, flailing for stability and taking his still-wet canvas down with him.
"Oh, shit." Jisung's laughter was barely muffled by the hand he slapped over his mouth. He made no move to help, of course.
Hyunjin groaned from the floor, drawing in a sharp breath as he sat up. His canvas peeled off his chest with a squelch, flopping face-up onto the floor. The sticky mess of pinks, oranges, and blues smeared across his white shirt. It looked like he lost a fight with a sunset.
"God damn it, Jisung." He glared up at him, yanking the shirt off in one frustrated pull. "What was so important that you had to burst in like that?"
Jisung snorted, completely unapologetic. "Would you believe me if I said the party of the year?"
"Yeah, I actually would." Hyunjin rolled his eyes, swinging open the door of his wardrobe.
"So?" Jisung hurried behind him, his eyes beaming with hope.
"So what?" Hyunjin turned back to him. "Go have fun."
"Dude, you're not seriously staying in tonight."
Hyunjin blinked at him. "Yeah, I am. Someone has to finish- Well, actually, start over that skyline painting."
Jisung scoffed like that was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. "It's the first party of the year, Kappa Kappa Alpha is throwing it. Everyone is gonna be there."
"Sounds exhausting," Hyunjin muttered.
"And sitting here, getting high on paint fumes, isn't?" Jisung rolled his eyes, pressing. "Come on, you need a break. You took the first week way too seriously, you look like you need to be sent to physical therapy already."
Hyunjin huffed a laugh, stretching his sore limbs. "That's not a bad idea. I might need to go get a massage these days."
"And until then—" Jisung's hands went to Hyunjin's shoulders, his head leaning closer— "let's go get a drink. Or ten."
Hyunjin let out a long sigh, taking in the brightness of Jisung's eyes. Maybe a night off wouldn't kill him. And who knows, maybe he would even find a hot guy to take his mind off things.
"Fine," he gave in. "But if it sucks, I'm leaving early."
"Deal." Jisung grinned, victorious. "And you better not dress up as a sad art student. No one wants to fuck a sad art student."
"I'm not looking to get fucked, thank you." Hyunjin rolled his eyes, lightly shoving him out of the bedroom.
"Yeah, sure, me neither." Jisung gave an exaggerated wink. "Be ready in an hour, okay?"
"Alright, alright," Hyunjin groaned as he closed the door, but this time, it was more amused than exhausted.
Hyunjin turned his attention back to his room. He sighed as he stared into his wardrobe, the hangers clanking together as he flipped through his options.
"I'm gonna dress as whatever the fuck I want," he muttered to himself as he pulled out the cleanest options available. Something that wasn't paint-streaked, threadbare, or both.
A black turtleneck that he got during high school, and now fit a little too snugly on his shoulders, paired with some baggy jeans that might've been intentionally distressed, but he couldn't even remember if he got them like that or if he ripped them by accident.
He threw on a long leather jacket, the kind to make him look like he chain smokes cigarettes and has the most surface-level opinions on philosophy, and stared at himself in the mirror.
His dark hair fell messily around his face, hiding a faint streak of blue paint from the side of his hairline. He looked like someone who listens to indie music that makes you cry, paints murals about lost love, and probably tells people they wouldn't understand his art. It was perfect.
"Whatever," he muttered, running a hand through his hair to make it look even more artfully disheveled.
He grabbed a silver ring from his desk, turning it over between his fingers for a moment. It wasn’t anything special to look at — a little scratched, a little worn — but his hand felt wrong without it. It didn’t match anything he was wearing, but that didn’t matter. It never mattered. The ring stayed on, always. Like a part of him he couldn’t take off, even if he wanted to.
He shook off the thoughts about the ring before they could settle, knowing Jisung was probably seconds away from kicking down his door.
Sure enough, when he stepped out, Jisung was already waiting in the doorway. He had on a cropped, soft beige sweater that hung off one shoulder, paired with high-waisted black jeans and a thin silver chain around his neck. It was simple, but the kind of simple that screamed Yeah, I’m a twink, but I’m tasteful about it.
Hyunjin blinked. "Didn't expect you to be so normal tonight."
"Gee, thanks." Jisung rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to serve a subtle slay tonight."
Felix’s voice cut in from his bedroom, "Subtle? Yeah, and I'm trying to serve quiet minimalism, I guess."
Hyunjin turned just in time to see Felix emerge, and holy shit.
Freckled cheeks glowing like a damn supernova, lip gloss shining obnoxiously under the dorm’s bad lighting — he looked like a walking thirst trap. His sweater was cropped so high it might as well have been a bra, and his cargo pants were slung low enough on his hips that Hyunjin was pretty sure they were being held up by hopes and dreams. His long, blonde hair had a few braids sprinkled throughout. The platform boots completed the look, making him at least half a head taller than usual.
"You look like a slutty fairy," Jisung commented.
Felix grinned, proud. "Perfect."
Hyunjin stared at both of them, unimpressed. "This is why people are homophobic."
"Okay, Van Gogh," Jisung shot back. "You’re one to talk. You look like you’re about to cry in an art gallery."
"Whatever," Hyunjin muttered, shouldering past them toward the door. "Let’s just go before I change my mind."
"Don’t sound too excited, Hyunjin, you might accidentally have fun," Jisung teased, trailing after him.
Felix followed, laughing. "Yeah, careful — you might even make out with someone hot."
Hyunjin rolled his eyes, but a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. Maybe he wouldn’t admit it, but a tiny part of him hoped they were right.
Just a tiny one.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
The party was already on fire. Not literally, yet, but give it an hour.
The bass-heavy music vibrated through the walls, the beer pong table looked like it had been through three separate wars, and there was a faint but unmistakable smell of someone lighting up in the kitchen. It was exactly as the frat gods intended.
The boys were very much in their element, surrounding the beer pong table like inspectors. Chan held the ping pong ball between his fingers, moving it closely to his lips as he whispered some drunk prayer to make the ball go in.
"Come on, Chan," Jackson encouraged him from the side. "One more cup."
Chan leaned over the table, closing one eye as he imagined his trajectory right into Jeongin's cup. The last remaining cup stood at the end of the table, taunting him, half-full of lukewarm beer. If only they cared this much about shooting at basketball practice.
They may have been athletes during weekdays, but on weekends, beer pong was the sport they were born to play. The purest test of skill, endurance, and raw drive to see each other suffer.
And Chan was about to ruin Jeongin.
With a flick of his wrist, he let the ball fly and drop right into the cup with a satisfying plop.
"Let’s GOOO!" Jackson shouted, shaking Chan’s shoulders like a coach hyping up his star player.
"Chug, loser!" Changbin banged the table, the chant spreading through the crowd, even to Jeongin's own team. "Chug! Chug! Chug!"
Jeongin groaned, tipping his head back before grabbing the cup and downing it in a few gulps. He wiped his mouth, shooting Chan an annoyed glare. "How will you sleep, knowing I might get blackout?"
Chan smirked, twirling the ping pong ball between his fingers, neon lights flashing across the silver ring on his hand.
"Hopefully, with my balls empty."
He barely had time to bask in his victory before an arm slung around his shoulders, pulling him into the humid press of bodies.
"Chan," a sultry voice purred near his ear, just loud enough to be heard over the music. A hand ghosted over his arm, trailing up toward his shoulder like it had a destination in mind. "Been looking for you all night."
Chan turned, already smirking, because that’s what you do at a party when someone says something like that. But then he actually looked at the guy. Shit. Hadn’t he already—?
"You have?" Chan stalled, tipping his head slightly like he was considering the offer.
The guy's lips curled, fingers pressing more firmly into his skin. "Yeah. Thought we could—"
"Nah." Chan pulled back smoothly, popping the 'n' like it was the easiest decision in the world. "I’m good."
The guy blinked. "What?"
"I’m good," Chan repeated, already stepping away, taking a long sip from his drink like that was the end of it. Because it was.
The guy scoffed, clearly thrown. "Right. Whatever, man."
Chan barely spared him another glance before slipping back toward the beer pong table, where his other frat members had all witnessed the interaction like it was the most interesting thing at the party.
"Did I just see you reject someone?" Jackson asked, eyes narrowing like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
"What, am I supposed to fuck every guy I see?" Chan shrugged, patting his jean pockets in search of his pack of cigarettes.
"Acting like your body count isn't three digits," Changbin let out a disbelieving laugh.
"Not yet," Chan corrected him, slipping a cigarette from his pack and sparking it up with a beat-up white Clipper. The lighter had seen better days, it was all scuffed and chipped at the edges, but he never let it go empty. Never let anyone else use it, either.
"You still got two months to fulfill last year's resolution, though," Minho chuckled over the rim of his red cup. "I can't believe your new year's resolution was to sleep with a hundred guys."
"Look, you have to set achievable goals," Chan said, exhaling a slow stream of smoke. "Unlike Seungmin’s goal to break the three-point record when he barely makes layups."
"Hey," Seungmin called from the side, his arm draped over some girl's shoulders. "Respectfully, fuck you."
"Didn't you already sleep with that guy, though?" Jackson chimed in, giving his own observation. "Do you just not give people second rounds?"
"I don't double-dip." Chan replied smoothly, flicking ash into a half-empty beer bottle. "It's a waste of time."
Jeongin, still bitter about the beer pong game, raised an eyebrow. "A waste of time?"
"Mhm. It's never good enough for repeats," Chan said, tipping his head back with a long drag of his cigarette.
Changbin winced. "That’s cold."
"That’s life," Chan corrected, grinning before scanning the crowd again, already looking for someone new. He stretched his arms behind his head, shirt riding up just enough to show the toned v-line he knew got people looking. "Anyway, where’s my next challenge? I feel like destroying someone else in beer pong."
"Or you could dance," Jackson suggested, jerking his head toward the crowd.
Chan glanced toward the dance floor, where bodies moved under flashing neon lights, the air thick with sweat, heat, and bad decisions waiting to happen. Tempting.
He cracked his neck and smiled. "Not a bad idea, actually."
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Hyunjin had barely stepped through the door when someone nearly crashed into him. He twisted at the last second, avoiding a full collision, but still got a shoulder check hard enough to turn him around.
"Dude," he muttered, frowning.
The guy barely looked at him, his drink sloshing as he muttered, "Fucking Chan," before stepping out the door.
Hyunjin froze. His stomach did this weird, hollow drop, like the floor had just been ripped out from under him.
Did he just—? No. No way. It was just a name. A common name.
"You good?" Felix asked, giving him a weird look.
"Yeah," Hyunjin said quickly. "Just- He ran into me. I don’t know."
Jisung snickered. "Poor guy looked wrecked."
"He was probably just shitfaced." Felix smirked, nodding to the beer pong table that was now surrounded by other frat members. "What did he even say?"
"Didn't catch it," Hyunjin forced a laugh, shrugging. "Let's get drinks."
"That's the spirit!" Jisung grinned, already leading the way inside, to the kitchen.
The kitchen looked less like a place to make food and more like a fully stocked liquor store. The counter was lined with bottles — vodka, tequila, whiskey, whatever the hell that neon green liquid was — with barely an inch of space between them. Cases of beer cans were stacked on the floor like they were constructing a fortress out of them, a proud wall of bad decisions just waiting to be made.
"This is what I'm talking about," Jisung said with a grin, leaning over the counter to grab 3 red cups. "Let me be your personal bartender tonight."
As soon as his fingers wrapped around the bottle of tequila, Hyunjin intervened, stealing one of the cups from in front of their 'personal bartender'.
"Yeah, no. I don't do tequila," he countered, going for a bottle of gin instead.
"But you do gin?" Jisung gave a horrified look, mindlessly pouring tequila into his and Felix's cup. "You're an odd one."
"I think all that matters is that we get drunk, not what we use for it," Felix interfered, taking his cup without any mixers and throwing his head back, making however much Jisung poured into a shot.
Jisung let out an impressed whistle. "Are you trying to drink yourself into the ER? That was more than a double shot, I think."
"It does the job," Felix replied, his voice a little strained from the burn of the alcohol. "Come on, we gotta get on the dance floor quicker."
"Why are you in such a hurry?" Hyunjin cracked open a can of pink tonic, pouring it over his gin. "We just got here."
"I'm trying to get me a frat boy tonight." Felix shrugged, making himself a double tequila sunrise.
Jisung almost choked on his drink. "A frat boy?"
Felix nodded, completely unfazed. "Yeah. They're hot, they're dumb and they work out. Why not?"
"Until you wake up tomorrow and realize you accidentally pulled a straight one," Hyunjin laughed, stirring the ice in his cup.
Felix made a face. "Okay, ew, don’t put that energy on me." He leaned back against the counter and scanning the party like he was analyzing stocks. "I have a good gaydar. It's how I chose you as my friends."
"No, you chose us because we were forced to be roommates," Jisung reminded him.
The blonde boy groaned. "Fine, whatever. But this is different." He threw back another sip before looping his arms around the others', dragging them away from the counter. "Now come on, let's dance."
The other boys let him drag them along to the dance floor, knowing any protests would be in vain.
The music was relentless, pulsing through the air like a second heartbeat. The bass rattled in their chests, thick and heavy, swallowing up any coherent thought. Around them, bodies moved like waves, lost in the glow of neon lights and the sticky heat of too many people packed into one space.
Felix fit into the chaos effortlessly. He danced like he belonged there, like he was the music, his hips rolling in perfect time, hair catching in the flickering lights as he tipped his head back with a grin. He barely held onto his drink, moving in sync with the beat like it was second nature. It wasn't long before he was being eyed by more than a few, his style and effortless confidence drawing them in like moths to a flame.
Jisung wasn’t far behind. He was less polished, all bouncy energy and exaggerated movements, drinking and dancing in equal measure. Every few beats, he clinked his cup against Felix’s like they were celebrating some unspoken victory, laughing at nothing, already buzzed enough to let go completely.
Hyunjin... was not there yet.
He swayed a little, testing the waters, feeling the music hum beneath his skin, but it still felt foreign. Unnatural. His fingers curled tighter around his cup, condensation sticking to his palm.
He wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly. The atmosphere was intoxicating in its own way, laced with the sharp burn of alcohol and cigarette smoke. People danced close, some moving without care, others with clear intent.
Hyunjin wasn’t sure he’d ever be that kind of person. Still, he let himself sway a little more, rolling his shoulders, testing how much he could let go. The gin was warm in his throat, smoothing out some of the edges. Maybe if he kept drinking, he’d stop thinking entirely.
Just as he was starting to loosen up, his gaze went right to Felix, the way he was spinning. Maybe it was a little too fast—
Crash.
Hyunjin and Jisung winced as Felix’s back slammed right into some guy.
He staggered back a step, blinking up at the guy he’d just body-slammed. The man barely moved, built like a brick wall, his thick arms instinctively reaching out like he expected Felix to fall, which thank god he didn't.
"You good?" the guy asked, his voice casual, but there was something else behind it. Curiosity, maybe. Anyone would've been curious about the slutty fairy twirling at the party.
Felix, ever unfazed, steadied himself and looked up properly. And then up some more. Because wow, this guy was big. Not necessarily tall, but solid, with thick biceps and a chest that filled out his already tight shirt. He had that kind of easy, unbothered confidence that told Felix he was very aware of what he looked like and how people reacted to him.
"Yeah, I'm great." Felix flashed his signature grin.
Hyunjin and Jisung watched from just a few steps away, exchanging looks.
"Oh, he’s so getting some tonight," Jisung muttered.
But before either of them could intervene, the guy shifted, glancing toward the group men gathered nearby, which he was in. They weren’t just random partygoers; they belonged here. The frat boys Felix was looking for, probably.
And just like that, Felix was swept away. One moment, he was beside his dormmates, the next, he was being nudged into a circle of new people like he’d always been there.
Hyunjin blinked. "Did we just lose him?"
"I think so," Jisung snorted. "Looks like it's just the two of us, Van Gogh."
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Felix had seamlessly melted into the frat group, laughing as he danced against the guy he’d bumped into. He still didn’t know his name — didn't ask, didn’t care — but he knew he liked the way the guy’s hands lingered just enough to keep him close without being overbearing.
"Damn, Changbin," one of the guys called out as he seemed to return to the group. His gaze fell to Felix's body, the exposed skin of his abdomen glowing in the neon lights.
"What happened, Jackson, you jealous?" Changbin laughed from behind Felix, his grip firm on the boy's hip, his other hand busy holding his beer.
"Honestly? Yeah. It's like everyone stopped trying this year, like they're too cool to be fun at a party." Jackson rolled his eyes.
Felix, always eager to share his wealth, smirked. "I got some friends, if you're looking."
He then pointed lazily behind them, at the two friends he came with, completely oblivious to the impending disaster. And that's when everyone saw them.
Even Chan.
The party, the music, the laughter, they all dropped away in an instant. His beer paused halfway to his lips, grip tightening around the cup.
Hwang Hyunjin. Here. With his stupid friends.
His heart slammed against his ribs, breath catching for half a second before he forced himself to scoff. Of course. Of course his ex was here, standing there like some goddamn fever dream, like the universe just wanted to fuck with him.
He wasn’t even trying to be subtle. Just out there, dancing, like it was his scene. His dumb, soft-looking hair kept falling into his face, and he kept pushing it back, all effortless grace. Jisung was next to him, laughing, an arm slung around his shoulder. They looked comfortable. Like this wasn’t the worst fucking thing that could have happened.
Chan’s stomach curled inward.
"No fucking way."
The words barely left his mouth, but Jackson heard them anyway. He turned, raising a brow. "What?"
Chan didn’t answer. He just grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him further away from the speakers, away from him.
Jackson stumbled after him. "Whoa, dude. What the hell—"
Chan didn’t stop until they were far enough from the main chaos, just outside the kitchen. Then he let go, running a hand through his fluffy hair, tugging at it as he exhaled sharply.
"I want them gone."
Jackson blinked. "Who?"
Chan clenched his jaw, like he was forcing the words out of his mouth. "All of them. Changbin's fucking stripper and his friends, I want them out."
Jackson frowned, looking over his shoulder like he could still see them. "What? Why?"
"Because I fucking said so," Chan snapped. "I don't care if you have to drag them out, but they can't be here anymore. Or at any other parties. They're banned."
Jackson didn’t move right away. He just watched Chan carefully, like he was trying to put pieces together. Then he smirked, tilting his head.
"What is really wrong, Channie?"
Chan’s stomach twisted. "You know how I'm the president here? Yeah. Just do as I say now."
Jackson let out a low whistle, amused. "Fucking Chan." But he was already turning back toward the party, cracking his neck like he was gearing up for a mission.
He confidently walked up to the two still dancing, putting his hand over Jisung's shoulder. "You guys having fun?" He asked at first, as if he was just there to make conversation.
Jisung grinned as he looked up, nodding enthusiastically. "Oh, yes. This party is insane. Like, whoever stocked the alcohol deserves an award. And the music is so—"
"That's great. So great. Love that energy," Jackson sketched an easy smile, like he was preparing the worst.
Hyunjin, more sober and immediately skeptical, watched him warily. "Is everything okay?"
Jackson’s smile didn’t waver as he did some awkward finger guns at Hyunjin. "Yeah, everything's not okay. You need to leave. And not come back, ever."
Hyunjin blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Yeah," Jackson began, casual, like this wasn’t weird at all, "you’re kind of banned from the Kappa Kappa Alpha parties."
Jisung squinted, still processing. "Banned?"
Hyunjin’s jaw tightened. "You’re kicking us out? Did we do something wrong or...?"
"President's call, not mine." Jackson lifted his hands like it wasn’t personal. "Nothing against you. If it was up to me, you could stay, but... it's not up to me."
"What? Dude, we're not gonna leave for no reason," Hyunjin exhaled sharply, irritated.
But Jackson was already moving, his hands grabbing the leather jacket and sweater they were wearing and steering them toward the door with surprising ease. Jisung stumbled, laughing like this was all a big joke, but Hyunjin dug his heels in.
"Hey- What the hell?" he snapped, trying to twist out of Jackson’s grip.
"Relax, it's not the last party of your lives," Jackson said, unfazed, as he guided them through the crowd.
They barely had time to process what was happening before Jackson reached the front door, yanked it open, and unceremoniously pushed them both outside.
Jisung tripped forward with a startled noise, catching himself against Hyunjin. "Whoa—"
Jackson stayed in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, watching like some underpaid bouncer making sure the troublemakers actually left.
"Come on," Hyunjin muttered, his fingers wrapping around Jisung's wrist as he began walking.
"Did we just get physically removed from our first frat party?" Jisung straightened up.
"First and last," Hyunjin bit out, jaw tight as his mind replayed Jackson’s words. Banned. Like they’d done something wrong. Like this wasn’t personal.
As they moved down the narrow campus path, Hyunjin couldn’t stop himself from glancing back.
And there he was.
Chan, standing in the doorway beside Jackson, arms folded, watching them go. The neon lights behind him cast a soft glow over his features, highlighting the smug curve of his lips.
Then, as soon as their eyes met, Chan lifted a hand in a lazy wave.
Hyunjin’s stomach twisted.
That smirk. That fucking smirk. Fucking Chan.
His grip tightened around Jisung’s wrist, but he didn’t say a word. Just turned forward again and kept walking, each step heavier than the last.
Jisung, blissfully unaware, hummed to himself, kicking a stray rock down the pavement. "Man," he meditated, "kind of iconic, though."
Hyunjin ignored him. His heart was beating too loud to hear anything else. He didn't even remember how they got back to the dorm, only snapping back to reality when he threw himself on the couch
"This is fucking bullshit," he groused, pulling his jacket off like it personally offended him.
"It's okay, we're going to find other parties—" Jisung started, sitting down beside him, only to be cut off.
"It's not about the party, I didn't even want to go in the first place." Hyunjin rolled his eyes, fingers digging into his temples. "I think I know who the president of this fraternity is."
"Who?" Jisung asked curiously, his brows shooting up.
"My ex."
Jisung's entire body stiffened like he'd been electrocuted. His jaw fell open so fast it was a miracle it didn’t hit the floor. "Did you say your ex?"
"Yes, Jisung, my fucking ex from high school," Hyunjin groaned, dragging his hands down to his face.
"Damn. What did you do to him to get us kicked out?"
Hyunjin let out a loud sigh, melting into the couch. "I don't know. He broke up with me. This is so fucking stupid."
"But why did you break up?" Jisung pressed, kicking off his sneakers like he was settling in for a drama.
"Great question. Ask him."
Silence. A long, sluggish pause while Jisung’s drunk brain tried to process that answer.
"One day, he just showed up to my house, told me we were over and that 'I knew what I did'. Never explained it. Oh, and then he immediately started dating my best friend."
Jisung shook his head like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Bro."
"Yeah."
"Bro."
"I know."
Jisung exhaled, flopping onto his back. "That's a terrible drama plot."
Hyunjin shot him a look. "I will smother you with a pillow."
Jisung just patted his shoulder, like some wise elder. "It’s okay. We all have an ex that haunts us." Then, after a pause, he frowned. "Actually, no. I don't. That sounds awful. Good luck with that."
Hyunjin groaned, throwing his head back. This was going to be a long first year.