Prompt: EunHae are roommates and had a fight and somehow along the way Hae sprain his leg or something but refuses Hyuk's help and Hyuk gets jealous when he saw someone else helping Hae and he tries to think of ways to pacify Hae. Or something like that LOL

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“What the hell did I tell you about leaving your all over the floor?!” Hyukjae angrily erupts as he slams the door behind him. Donghae is sitting cross-legged on his bed across the room with a textbook propped open in his lap. He glances up from his reading and rolls his eyes dramatically just to piss Hyukjae off more.

“I do my part to keep my side of the room clean. Why can’t you?”

“Well not all of us are neat freaks like you,” Donghae quips back, slamming his book shut. “Oh, and by the way, the smelly socks you left under my pillow last week, real mature.”

“You drank all my strawberry milk, jackass!”

And the argument goes on.

Having both been stuck with crappy lottery numbers last year, Hyukjae and Donghae were forced to live together by default. The two were on complete opposite sides of the university spectrum: Hyukjae had his friends in high places, while Donghae had a group of more studious friends that he hung out with. Both played club soccer where a rivalry had formed between them over a year ago.

“You know what?” Donghae snaps, standing up and throwing his hands up in surrender. “I’m done. I’m going to the library. You’re ridiculous, Hyukjae.” Brusquely, he gathers his textbooks and laptop into his backpack and makes sure to shoulder the older man on his way out the door.

When the room is quiet again, Hyukjae sighs and flops back on his bed. He closes his eyes, rubbing his throbbing temples and forehead. There’s adrenaline pumping through his veins as his heart hammers against his ribs. Donghae infuriates him, and not because they couldn’t along.

It’s kind of hard to sleep in the same room with someone you lust over at night. The ual frustration was driving Hyukjae crazy. So instead of being a man and just fessing up to Donghae, he’s figuratively pulling the pigtails of the person he likes like a prepubescent boy. 

Last year, he had wanted to show off for Donghae at soccer, but when the latter started getting super competitive with him, he became abrasive and angry to hide his feelings. And now that they’re living together, their fighting only got worse.

Around six o’ clock, Hyukjae finally closes his Anatomy book and stretches. Donghae still hasn’t come back to the room. Shrugging, he snatches his keys off his bed and heads for the dining hall. He’s just grabbed an apple from the fruit rack when he spots Donghae across the cafeteria.

The brunette is limping slightly, putting most of his weight on his right leg. He’s smiling up at Oliver, an international student from England who is also on the club soccer team. The tall, blonde has his arm wrapped around Donghae’s back, supporting him, and he’s carrying Donghae’s backpack.

Hyukjae is tempted to chuck his apple across the room at Oliver’s head.

Instead, he stomps over to where Donghae is laughing at something Oliver said.

“Yah, Donghae! What happened?” Hyukjae interrogates. He had wanted to sound concerned, but the question came out more hostile than anything.

“I fell off one of the step ladders in the library and twisted my ankle,” Donghae replies with an equally icy tone. “Not that you give a damn anyway.”

Hyukjae almost says that he does, but opts for gritting his teeth and glaring at Oliver.

“I was just taking Donghae back to his room,” the British man mediates in Korean. His accent is barely noticeable. “You don’t have to worry.”

“I wasn’t worried!” Hyukjae answers a little to fast, a little to callous.

“Of course you weren’t,” mutters Donghae, and for some reason, it’s like a dagger in both their hearts.

After Donghae and Oliver leave, Hyukjae stands there in the middle of the dining hall before tossing his apple in the trash, suddenly not hungry anymore.

Later that night when Hyukjae returns to the dorm, he’s carrying a pumpkin spice latte in one hand and a bag of ice in the other. He’s secretly pleased to see that Donghae is the only person in the room. The brunette barely glances his way when he hears the door open. He’s got his headphones in, his left ankle elevated on a pillow.

“Come to berate me some more?” he asks coldly, taking his headphones out of his ears and closing his laptop.

Hyukjae flinches at the words. “No,” he responds harshly. Catching his mistake, he takes a deep breath and crosses the line between their personal spaces, standing next to Donghae’s bed. “No,” he says in a quieter, gentler tone. “I actually brought you some ice and your favorite café coffee.”

“Trying to win me over, huh?”

Donghae smiles to himself. He takes the warm paper cup and thanks Hyukjae in a barely audible whisper. He then reaches for the ice and tries to get it to sit on his ankle, but it’s hard to balance his drink and laptop at the same time. Just as catastrophe seems imminent, Hyukjae steps in and grabs the bag of ice, his fingers brushing Donghae’s. The brunette releases the bag and draws his hand back to steady his computer.

After Hyukjae maneuvers the ice over Donghae’s swollen ankle, he seats himself in Donghae’s desk chair. They’re encompassed by an awkward silence until Donghae speaks, “I bet you’ll be glad I won’t be at practice this week.”

“Why do you say that?”

Donghae shoots him an incredulous look. “You’re kidding, right? You hate playing soccer with me.”

“Never said that.”

“You showed it through your actions though, always so defensive and dedicated to stripping me of the ball. On Tuesday, you ran nearly the entire field to block my goal. I knew you hated me, but I didn’t think it was that intense.”

Donghae holds his computer out for Hyukjae to place on his desk. He sips his latte and stares at his ankle, not looking at the latter.

“I…I don’t hate you, Donghae,” Hyukjae finally admits after another brief silence. “And I don’t hate playing soccer with you. Hell, I don’t even hate living with you.”

“Then why are you always such a to me?”

“It’s…complicated.” Hyukjae exhales the breath he’s been holding and gazes at Donghae’s face fondly.

After a moment, Donghae finishes the latte and tosses the empty cup into the wastebasket. “I’m a smart guy,” he says with a grin, turning to make eye contact with Hyukjae. “I can handle complicated.”

So Hyukjae kisses him. It’s chaste, nothing too passionate, but he lets his lips linger on Donghae’s for a couple more seconds before he pulls back. The brunette’s eyes are wide with surprise, and he blinks, mouth opening and closing soundlessly like a gasping fish.

“You’re right,” Hyukjae sighs. “I with words. I have the emotional capacity of a twelve-year-old. I was a to you because I think you’re perfect even when you leave your clothes all over the floor and never make your bed.” He carefully observes Donghae’s facial features for some kind of indication that he wasn’t making a complete fool of himself. “I’ve been harboring a stupid crush on you since last year, and when I found out that we were living together, I didn’t know what to do. So I acted like an . And then you kept antagonizing me here or on the field…. I couldn’t control myself. And then tonight I saw you with Oliver, and I lost my . I’m sorry if it seemed like I didn’t care because I was worried.”

Donghae appears frozen for the longest time after Hyukjae finishes his rant, but then he bursts into laughter. He covers his mouth with a hand to stifle himself, but he just keeps laughing. Hyukjae feels his face go hot with embarrassment and quickly stands up, ready to flee the room, when a hand grasps his wrist.

“Wait!” Donghae exclaims. His other hand curls around Hyukjae’s forearm and tugs lightly to get Hyukjae to look at him. In his haste, the ice flops to the floor as Donghae sits up. “I’m sorry for laughing. It wasn’t directed at you, I swear. Hyukjae, please.”

The latter relents and faces the brunette on the bed.

“I was always antagonizing you because I was confused as to why the guy I liked was treating me like crap. You were so amazing at soccer that I did everything I could to show you that I could be just as good as you. That’s why I was competitive. And when we were told to live together, I hoped that maybe we could get to know each other better and be friends, but…but you were so infuriating that I just played along and purposely tried to piss you off.” Donghae chuckles. “We’re both emotionally constipated! Besides, there is nothing going on between Oliver and me. He was just helping me from the library.”

Hyukjae bends over to pick up the fallen ice bag and places it on Donghae’s ankle. He smiles at the brunette and sits on the bed beside him, leaning over him and silently asking permission to kiss him again. Donghae just rolls his eyes and pulls Hyukjae down by his hair.

This kiss is much more deep, tongues probing and battling for dominance. Hyukjae has a bit of an edge by default because he is upright, but Donghae plays dirty and nips at the older’s bottom lip.

When they finally separate, Donghae huffs and laughs. “So does this mean no more fighting?”

“Probably not. We are both stubborn after all.”

“What do you say, once my ankle heals, you and me have a one-v-one after practice. Winner tops.”

“You’re on.”

***

A/N: Haha. Oliver. I don’t even know. Hope you like it!

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