For references as to what Jihoon and Soonyoung look like during this story, refer to 1, 2, 3, or 4.

Updates on this story might not be very regular, as the chapters are long and I'm trying to refine them as I go, so sorry about that! Thank you to all who have already subscribed and commented on this story, I really appreciate the support, and I hope that you enjoy this first chapter! A comment would be very much appreciated, and thank you for reading.

***

Jihoon never had the best of luck with his roommates. He didn’t know what it was about him, but this was his fifth roommate in two years, and he sent a silent prayer to the deities above that this one would be normal. His first roommate was just a little psychotic (he kept a collection of glass eyed dolls which he lined up along the window sills- Jihoon could feel their shiny eyes staring at him when he slept, and he swears that the gazes still linger). His second roommate was not the worst person, and certainly not the creepiest, but he had a beautiful, older boyfriend whom he insisted on bringing over to their room every other day, and Jihoon was completely fine with it- until he woke up with said beautiful, older boyfriend in his bed one morning spooning him. Needless to say, roommate number two was not happy when he found out, and kicked Jihoon out. Roommate Three (necessitating capitalization just because of how he traumatized Jihoon) grew pot in their room and had night terrors.  Not only did Jihoon constantly smell like weed, Roommate Three would bolt upright in the middle of the night when Jihoon was studying for Music History and scream. The fourth roommate was a fresh reprieve from the insanity of Roommate Three, but he was just flat-out gross. He never threw away his take-out boxes from Panda Express or even showered.

So, as Jihoon stood in front of room number seven-oh-two with his ratty duffel bag slung over his right shoulder and a nice backpack clutched in his hand, he knocked twice and pushed the door open. The first thing Jihoon heard was a muffled ‘’ and a rustling of fabric, and Jihoon immediately sighed- the feeling in his gut telling him that he was destined to ty roommates. Jihoon stepped into a surprisingly clean and white room, with a bare bed on the right and a lump of blankets on the one closer to the window.

“Uh, hello? I’m Jihoon, your new roommate,” Jihoon dumped his duffel bag unceremoniously at the foot of the bare bed, looking around for the source of the voice that he heard earlier. Jihoon startled when a tuft of shaggy blond hair popped out from the lump of blankets, but composed himself quickly as the person surfaced.

“Oh, thank ing god. I thought you were the dorm head,” the boy breathed out a sigh of relief and pushed the blankets to his waist. Jihoon flushed when he saw that the boy was shirtless, lightly defined chest and stomach standing out against the soft white blankets, rosy s peaking in the cool air- not that Jihoon noticed.

“I would shake your hand but I was-” the boy cut himself and grinned unabashedly, making an obscene hand gesture instead. Jihoon coughed and turned his head away, busying himself with his bags.

“Anyway, I’m Soonyoung, if you were interested. Sorry- I didn’t catch your name?” the boy spoke again, apparently completely at ease with being in a room with a guy that he didn’t even know the name of.

Jihoon coughed again. “Uh, I’m Jihoon. Are you Korean?”

“Yeah, it’s a coincidence that they roomed the two of us together, huh?” Soonyoung linked his fingers together, resting them on top of his stomach. If Jihoon bothered to look (he didn’t, he swears), he would see a peppering of dark hair trailing from his bellybutton, the rest hidden by the blankets. Jihoon made a vague noise of affirmation and pulled his crumpled sheets from inside his duffel bag and tossed them on the bed. He heard more rustling from his left and looked up, immediately flushing a bright red. Again.

His fifth roommate was apparently a nudist, because he was standing ing bare right in front of Jihoon. He could see his . Soonyoung grinned brazenly when he caught Jihoon staring, throwing a careless wink at him before turning around to pull on the sweatpants that were balled up on the floor, and dear lord, that .

Jihoon quickly returned his attention to unpacking, and chided himself for staring. It wasn’t his fault that he hasn’t slept with anyone for a good year. It wasn’t his fault that his past four roommates were all as ugly as bricks, and the good Heavens above decided to bless him with the beautiful specimen that is Soonyoung for his fifth roommate. Jihoon pulled out a shirt, then shoved it back in, suddenly too distracted to unpack or do anything other than stare at Soonyoung- and damn it, how long did it take for him to get dressed? Jihoon promptly splayed himself across his unmade bed and yanked out his phone- anything to stop him from staring- and opened his messages, scrolling past a few texts from his classmates asking him about his schedule.

“So, what are you majoring in?” Soonyoung asked from his perch on his own bed, finally fully dressed in grey sweatpants and a soft-looking black shirt. “I’m majoring in East Asian Languages and Cultures. It’s pretty cool, and I get loads of opportunities to go to Asia again.”

“Music Composition and History,” Jihoon tossed his phone aside and sitting up to properly look at Soonyoung. He certainly wasn’t a conventional beauty (unlike roommate number two’s beautiful, older boyfriend), but he was handsome nonetheless, his full cheeks and slanted eyes giving him a boyish appearance.

“I heard that the music department has some interesting characters,” Soonyoung stage-whispered conspiratorially, his eyes twinkling. “I guess I understand what they mean,” he playfully leaned forward and flicked a strand of Jihoon’s hair. “I like your hair, by the way. It must be easy to find you in a crowd.”

Jihoon scowled and ran his fingers through his hair. “ing- I didn’t mean for it to turn out orange. I was hoping for blonde and I’m too broke to fix it.”

Soonyoung made a small noise of protest. “It’s nice, though. It suits you.”

Jihoon shrugged noncommittally. “What do you mean ‘interesting characters’?” he asked, abruptly changing the topic.

That sparkle of mischief returned to Soonyoung’s eyes and his body leaned forward towards Jihoon, like a physical whisper. “I heard a rumour that there was a Year One Ethnomusicology student banging his Intro to Folk lecturer.”

Jihoon scrunched his face up immediately. “Mrs Averill? But she’s, like, sixty”

Mrs Averill was a slight wisp of a woman, with a face that was once-beautiful and a body that had to be voluptuous a good thirty years ago.  With age, she had shrunk into herself, but her smooth skin and wide eyes gave her a more youthful appearance. Whenever Jihoon saw her around school, she would be sporting a high-waisted skirt and a baggy cardigan, showing off plump calves and little else. Jihoon mused over it- he could see why a student would want to her if they were desperate, but no.

“Some people are into that, y’know?” Soonyoung laughed, suddenly standing up and extending a hand to Jihoon. “I have to go for my shift- at the campus Starbucks- but I was wondering if you wanted to come with? I can give you my employee discount, and we do sell some killer cronuts.”

Jihoon grabbed Soonyoung’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. “I could eat.”

They held steady conversation, exchanging anecdotes about their lives (“I had a roommate who would wake up screaming at least three times a week.” “No ing way, that . I promise that I don’t scream. Much.”), until they passed by the campus dance studio and Soonyoung quietened. The dance studio- Bowen Studio- was situated just before the cafeteria, and was an aesthetically pleasing room that was open to the public with floor length windows that allowed passer-by’s to watch whatever was going on in there.

Soonyoung was decidedly staring into the studio, his steps slowing to a turtle’s pace. Jihoon glanced over and saw the Year One dance teacher- Mr Brooke or Poole, or something to that effect- teaching a class of pretty, petite girls- all clad in black leotards and with their hair scraped back into buns.

Jihoon could hear the faint shouts of the teacher calling out instructions as the girls jetéd across the room in succession, silky ballet shoes brushing against the wood flooring, transitioning into a pas de bourrée, and ending in an arabesque, arms extended long and strong in front of them.

“You interested in dance?” Jihoon asked, nudging Soonyoung.

“Oh, yeah. I minor in Performance,” Soonyoung replied distractedly, finally tearing his eyes away from the dance studio, returning his focus to Jihoon sheepishly.

“Do you have a girl in there you fancy, or something?” Jihoon chanced a look backwards at the studio just before they made the turn into Starbucks. Soonyoung laughed, light and airy, and then shook his head, lightly pushing Jihoon towards the seating area.

“Go get a seat, I’ll be right out!” Soonyoung called out as he pushed open the door that was marked ‘Employees Only’. “And Jihoon, it’s definitely not a girl,” he winked at Jihoon and disappeared behind the door.

***

The problem with having orange hair is that you stand out- and that is a huge hindrance when one is trying to hide from a certain ex-girlfriend. Jihoon groaned when he spotted her from the corner of his eyes, and asked the Heavens (but mostly himself) why he didn’t choose to wear a hat that day.

“Hey Ji!”

Jihoon sighed and slowly turned around, his fingers clenching on the files that he was holding in his arms. “Hey Charlie, what do you want?”

Charlie giggled- the way young girls do when they want to appear small and cute- and played with her hair. “Well, a couple of my friends and I are throwing a party this Friday- just to celebrate the new sem. You should come, Ji! They all miss you.”

‘They’, of course, referred to Charlie’s circle of giggly, girly friends who were nothing but a nuisance during the whole two months of Charlie and Jihoon’s relationship. (“Oh my god, Charl, he is such a cutie!” “I could never pull off pink hair like you!” “Charl, doesn’t he look like a ? He looks like he’d break if you guys ed!”)

“Uh, I don’t-“

Jihoon startled when an arm slid around his waist and a body pressed firm into his side. He reflexively turned to shove the person off, but relaxed immediately when he saw that it was Soonyoung. They had been roommates for a good two weeks now, and are getting acquainted with the other’s schedule. In fact, they had planned to meet at the lecture theatre where Soonyoung had his last class, which was where Jihoon was headed before Charlie stopped him in the hallway.

“Jihoon, is this girl bothering you?” Soonyoung asked, tugging Jihoon closer. Jihoon held his laughter in, nearly quivering with the effort, and shook his head.

“I was just going to leave. Bye Charlie!” Jihoon quickly steered Soonyoung around and tugged him down the hallway, making it a good two feet before he burst out laughing. “Holy , dude, I love you.” Jihoon wheezed, leaning into Soonyoung.

“Only doing my duty for the nation,” Soonyoung teased, ruffling Jihoon’s hair. “Come on, let’s go.”

That day, they had planned to attend the back-to-school Poetry Slam held by the Comparative Literature students- a little ad-hoc event at After Hours, the small performance room that’s open from 7pm to 4am for both aspiring performers to flaunt their skill or for insomniac students to while away their night hours. Soonyoung had shoved the poster for the event under Jihoon’s nose and insisted that they attended, telling Jihoon that it was a bonding experience over laughing at sad, angsty poems and also: free booze.

They grabbed a couple of beers as they entered, taking seats on the floor near the back of the room and immediately pressed into each other, sharing body heat in the cold room. After Hours was tiny and dark, with a ratty air-conditioner that was at least ten years old and made a faint whirring noise, as if it was about to break any minute. A couple of woven carpets that had to have been bought from some discount store were thrown haphazardly across the floor, with several cushions and beanbags scattered on top. The only light came from the spotlights that faced the stage and a few ambient candles around the border of the room. Soonyoung took a swig of his beer and grinned at Jihoon, a wide smile meant just for that moment. Jihoon returned the smile briefly and turned his attention to the makeshift stage as a guy dressed in plaid stepped on, his skin pale in the light and the glasses too big for his face.

What did you get for Christmas?
Was it something nice?
I'm sitting here in Casualty,
My face is packed with ice.

I dread it every Christmas,
They never give me toys,
Daddy will get drunk again,
His nights out with the boys.

“Dude, let’s play a drinking game,” Soonyoung whispered to Jihoon, his breath hot and musky against Jihoon’s ear. “For every mention of daddy issues, depression, or love- take a drink.”

Jihoon nodded in assent with a smirk on his face, taking a drink as the guy on stage continued on. “You’ll be ing pissed by the end of this, then,” he whispered to Soonyoung, feeling the heat emanating from his neck on his lips.

“That’s the plan,” Soonyoung raised his can in a little mock salute to the stage. The hipster guy finished with a flourish of his hands, the glaring lights reflecting off his glasses. The silence that followed after slowly filled with snaps, and the guy bowed, exiting stage right as a rough-looking man stepped on, his beard shaggy and his hair unkempt.

Our headlights snake across the west Texas highway.
Out here, they’ve only got two kinds of music on the radio, country and western.
Her hair touches my shoulder in the wind.
The road signs say “Turn ahead.”
We sing along to songs our parents taught us.
"Turn ahead: Steep cliff."
Her finger is curled around my belt loop.

“You’ve ever been on a road trip?” Soonyoung whispered again. Jihoon imagined that if they went to the movies together, he would be chattering animatedly throughout the whole film, interrupting Jihoon with his own commentary.

Jihoon nodded absently. He had in fact been on a road trip just before he entered college, when he was smaller than he is now, perpetually nervous and always unsure of himself. He and a couple of his friends rented a beat-up SUV for cheap and travelled Highway 1 from Los Angeles to San Francisco, a three day trip where they had two overlays in Big Sur and Santa Barbara. Jihoon remembered Santa Barbara particularly vividly because on the night of their stay there, he and a stunning Indian girl who never tied her hair and had the most beautiful skin stole away to an alcove on the beach and had - a clumsy experience that involved nothing more than fumbling limbs and an amateur exploration of another’s body, but had brought endless amounts of satisfaction to Jihoon. Now that he thought about it, it was a very pretty way to lose his ity.

Soonyoung pressed into Jihoon more, shocking him out of his thoughts. “I wish I could go on a road trip.”

“We could,” Jihoon replied, his voice just a soft murmur.

The guy on stage bowed and the audience started snapping furiously again. He gave a little nod to the girl who was stepping on- a pale girl with a head full of dreads. Her voice was soft and sweet as she introduced herself, her eyes flicking nervously.

It is impossible to imagine a colour
you have not seen. I can’t call my mother
because she makes me panic. When I
say I am crying what I really mean
is that I want to cry but can’t.

Soonyoung nudged Jihoon again. “Would you this girl?”

Jihoon looked at her consideringly. Her eyes were hollowed and her skin almost translucent, giving her an otherworldly aura. She wore a baggy, faded, tie-dyed shirt, fishnets, and boots, her skinny wrists stacked with lanyards.

“Sure,” he shrugged, as her light voice echoed in the room. “You?”

Soonyoung laughed softly, shaking his head. Jihoon watched as his blond hair swept across his forehead, just above his brows. The darkness of the room made it hard to see, but Jihoon could just about make out the curve of his cupid’s bow.

“No girls, remember?”

Jihoon swallowed, the noise loud in his ears as he watched Soonyoung’s Adam’s apple bob, the light from the candles catching on the bump and casting a shadow over the rest of his neck.

I am just
carbon and bad timing. If I were someone
else I think I would still be mentally ill.
It is impossible to imagine a colour
you have not seen.

***

Jihoon, deep inside, knew that he would never be so lucky in his life to get a hot, single roommate who actually was interested in him. Soonyoung had never done much to lead him on, apart from a little good-natured ribbing about his uality and the ing nudism, but Jihoon had no reason to believe he had a chance with him. But of course he did.

And of course, he was proven wrong when Soonyoung brought a man into their room on Thursday night. The man had a pretty, elvish face with buzzed hair and holy those legs, and looked vaguely familiar in a I've seen you a couple dozen times around school but I've never spoken to you way. Soonyoung and the man had their arms around each other, a mocking show of intimacy to Jihoon, who was studying about traditional Japanese music in the Meiji period.

"Hey, Jihoon, this is Jackson!" Soonyoung introduced the man, a giddy smile on his face. Soonyoung sounded giggly. He was never ing giggly around Jihoon. The man waved- a wiggle of his fingers- and Jihoon knew where he had seen him from. He was the dance instructor and lecturer- Mr Peale- who taught Year One ballet and Latin dance, and holy , Soonyoung was ing a teacher.

Jihoon gaped dumbly, his pen hanging limply from between his fingers. Soonyoung nudged Jihoon, and turned to Jackson with a grossly adoring look on his face. "I think we might be bothering him here, he's kind of a genius."

Jihoon sputtered (both at the compliment and that look on Soonyoung's face), and leapt up from his perch on his bed, hastily gathering his books and notes and shoving them into his backpack.

"No, it's alright!" Jihoon waved his hands, just a little frantically. "I was just heading to the library, anyway! You guys have, uh, fun." Jihoon, with his backpack in one hand and phone in the other, slid past Soonyoung and Jackson to the door, only making it halfway to the lifts when he realised that the library was closed for cleaning and he had essentially iled himself. .

Jihoon groaned, and his head thumped on the wall next to him. Dropping his backpack on the floor, he dialled a number, fingers picking at the edge of his sweatshirt of out habit.

"Hey, Seungcheol, do you mind if I crash your room tonight?"

Room five-one-three, the room Seungcheol and Mingyu occupied, was in the same general layout Jihoon and Soonyoung’s room was in, but was considerably messier.  There were a few posters tacked on the wall- of various models in provocative poses and a smaller one of Big Bang over the dresser between their beds. Jihoon, immediately upon entering the room, sprawled himself on Mingyu, who was lying on his bed, engaged in a game of Mario Kart with Seungcheol.

“Dude, put your head down, I can’t see the screen,” Mingyu yelped, his body leaning to the side as he attempted to manoeuvre his car around the corner of the Sweet Sweet Canyon track. Jihoon obligingly put his head down, and then slapped the side of Mingyu’s thigh. Mingyu jolted, his car swerving off-track just before the finish line. Seungcheol whooped as he overtook Mingyu and finished in first, throwing his hands up in victory. Mingyu grumbled and tossed his controller aside, his hands moving to Jihoon’s hair instead, running his fingers through the strands.

“ on that, Mingyu! That’s five times in a row!” Seungcheol crowed, flopping on the space beside Mingyu on his bed.

Mingyu rolled his eyes and ignored Seungcheol. “Did you and your Soonyoung get into a fight?” Mingyu asked Jihoon instead.

“I’f been s’xiled,” Jihoon mumbled, tugging at the edge of Mingyu’s shirt.

“What’s that?”

“I’ve been iled,” Jihoon repeated, slightly louder. Seungcheol barked out a laugh and patted Jihoon’s hip in a gesture of empathy.

“That’s me every Saturday night, bro. You can share Mingyu’s bed, since he and his kind can’t keep their in their pants.”

“What do you mean ‘my kind’?” Mingyu protested, shoving Seungcheol, the boy nearly tipping off the bed. Seungcheol laughed and shoved Mingyu back, and before Mingyu could retaliate, Jihoon pinched his thigh, whatever Mingyu was about to say dissolving in a squeal. Jihoon smiled to himself, casting away thoughts of Soonyoung as he watched Mingyu and Seungcheol bicker.

***

Poems used are: Steve Woodman's 'Unhappy Christmas', Neil Hilborn's 'Liminality', and Neil Hilborn's 'Clatter'. These three poems in their entirety are beautiful, and I highly recommend you giving them a look!