Fics like routine

“You didn’t have to bring the tray to us,” Chan softly says to someone Jisung presumes it’s Seungmin. “I would’ve just taken the drinks from the counter myself.” The figure places the tray on the table without bumping into Jisung’s not-sleeping figure (a feat to be sure, considering how Jisung probably took up half the table) and laughs. “No one’s here yet, right? I don’t really have anything to do.” Wait a minute. Someone starts stroking his head, and Jisung knows it’s not Chan because Chan’s fingers are thick and heavy and hesitant in the way he handles Jisung like porcelain. These fingers are confident, like they knew exactly where the slope of Jisung’s head started and ended, like they knew him, and Jisung’s hit with a train of raw familiarity. It’s so familiar, so achingly familiar, and the strength of it immediately wakes him more than any cup of coffee would. or, Minho comes back, old feelings resurface and the student council grows sick of the unresolved tension between their secretary and their vice-president.

Fics like routine

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