NO ONE POV :

Kim hated mess. He hated things being out of place, crooked, or even slightly tilted. There was a system, a structure, a right way to do things, and anything that deviated from that made his skin crawl.

And then there was Vegas.

Vegas, who lived to mess with Kim’s carefully structured world.

They were classmates, both popular yet completely different. Kim, with his quiet, perfectionist nature, and Vegas, the loud, cocky troublemaker who charmed his way through life. They had nothing in common—except for the fact that Vegas had made it his life’s mission to drive Kim insane.

---

Kim was carefully arranging the books in his locker, color-coordinating them by subject, ensuring every single one was aligned to perfection. He took a deep breath, admiring the neatness.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw it.

Vegas, two lockers away, had just shoved his football jersey and a crumpled notebook into his own locker—without a second thought.

The mess. The chaos. The absolute disaster.

Kim tried to ignore it. He really did.

But the way the sleeve of the jersey dangled out, the way the notebook was barely balancing on a pile of random junk—it was unbearable. His fingers twitched. His eye twitched.

Before he could stop himself, he turned on his heel, stormed to Vegas’s locker, yanked it open, and started fixing it.

He folded the jersey properly, stacked the books in size order, and straightened the notebook before closing the locker with a relieved sigh.

Only then did he realize—

Vegas was leaning against the locker next to him, watching with a lazy smirk.

Kim’s stomach dropped.

Vegas raised an eyebrow. “Did you just… organize my locker?”

Kim stiffened. His brain short-circuited.

“...No.”

Vegas chuckled. “Oh? So I imagined you color-coding my books and folding my jersey like a housewife?”

Kim’s ears burned.

He turned away, fast, muttering, “It was a mess. I was doing humanity a favor.”

Vegas grinned. “Cute.”

Kim walked away aggressively, pretending he didn’t hear that.

Vegas watched him go, already thinking of new ways to mess with him.

---

Kim was an athlete. He ran track, focusing on speed and endurance, preferring the quiet rhythm of running over the chaos of other sports.

Vegas, however, was a football player. And a menace.

One day, after Kim neatly arranged his water bottle, towel, and shoes before practice, Vegas came in like a hurricane.

He picked up Kim’s perfectly folded towel and threw it over his shoulder like it was trash.

Kim stared. “What are you doing?”

Vegas shrugged. “Towels are towels. Just use it.”

Kim gritted his teeth, snatched it back, refolded it, and placed it exactly where it had been.

Vegas’s eyes twinkled with mischief.

He knocked over Kim’s water bottle.

Kim’s soul left his body for a second.

Vegas watched as Kim quickly wiped the mess, re-aligned the bottle, and checked it three times to make sure it was straight.

Then, Vegas nudged it slightly to the side again.

Kim slapped his hand away. “Stop.”

Vegas laughed. “You’re so fun to mess with.”

Kim glared at him. Vegas just smirked.

---

Kim loved the library. It was quiet, clean, and organized—everything Vegas was not.

Unfortunately, Vegas had developed an annoying habit of sitting next to Kim whenever he was studying.

Kim had his books arranged precisely in a straight line, pens sorted by color, notebook open at a perfect ninety-degree angle.

Vegas, the absolute heathen, plopped his backpack onto the desk, spilling papers everywhere.

Kim took a slow, deep breath.

Vegas, noticing this, grinned and dramatically shoved his books even closer, overlapping them with Kim’s.

Kim moved them back.

Vegas shoved them again.

Kim bit his lip.

Vegas leaned in. “Does this bother you?”

Kim snatched Vegas’s books, stacked them properly, and pushed them to the edge of the table. “There. Now behave.”

Vegas just smirked. “Or what?”

Kim didn’t answer. He just focused on his notes, pretending his ears weren’t burning.

Vegas chuckled. Cute.

---

After weeks of torment, Kim finally snapped.

It happened after Vegas "accidentally" knocked over Kim’s entire pencil case, sending pens rolling across the floor.

Kim slammed his hands on the table. "Do you have a death wish?"

Vegas, completely unbothered, smirked. “What if I just like seeing you flustered?”

Kim glared. "Then get a new hobby."

Vegas leaned closer. "Or maybe I like you."

Kim froze.

Silence.

Then—

Vegas grabbed Kim’s wrist, pulling him forward and kissed him.

Kim stiffened, wide-eyed.

Vegas pulled back slightly, studying his reaction. “Still wanna kill me?”

Kim was speechless.

Vegas grinned. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Kim turned bright red.

---

Later that night, Kim couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. He hated Vegas. He hated him so much.

(Except… he didn’t.)

So, when Vegas showed up at his dorm later, smirking, Kim just sighed and let him in.

Vegas flopped onto Kim’s bed, looking completely at home. “Admit it. You like me.”

Kim crossed his arms. “You’re insufferable.”

Vegas patted the space beside him. “Come cuddle your boyfriend.”

Kim scoffed. “You’re not my boyfriend.”

Vegas pulled Kim down onto the bed anyway, wrapping an arm around him.

Kim wanted to protest, but… he didn’t.

Instead, he let himself relax, feeling the warmth of Vegas’s body against his own.

Vegas chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to Kim’s temple. “You’ll get used to me.”

Kim sighed. He probably would.

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Hope you like this chapter.

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