CR | Chapter 1.2

Trying to act invisible was a nice effort, but Woori had no intention of letting him off that easily.

“Mom, Mom,” Woori said, grinning mischievously. “Donghwa’s here right now.”

Donghwa scowled as if to say, What did I ever do to you? barely holding back a laugh. Woori scooted over and patted the seat beside him, motioning for Donghwa to sit.

“Hello, Ma’am,” Donghwa greeted, his deep voice steady.

“Donghwa, do you need a roommate by any chance?”

“No, Ma’am. I’m good.”

“Well then, I guess Woori will just have to sleep on the streets!”

“Mom! Do you really want to see your beloved youngest son end up homeless?”

At the mention of homelessness, Donghwa raised a brow, curiosity flickering across his face. Woori, ever dramatic, shoved the eviction letter into Donghwa’s hands. Donghwa’s lips curved into a sharp grin as he read it.

“Homeless life isn’t so bad. I can toss you some spare change now and then.”

“Oh, Donghwa, you have such a great personality. I like you so much. But tell me, while Woori was busy earning D’s, what were you doing?”

The smile froze on Donghwa’s face. It seemed he’d finally realized that he, too, would be dragged into the scolding.

Woori, smirking, decided to mentally disassociate. This isn’t about me. This is all aimed at Donghwa now, he told himself. Somehow, sharing the scolding felt much better than enduring it alone.

After a 40-minute barrage of lectures, Woori’s mother ended the call, firmly maintaining her stance on the eviction. Woori had thought he could smooth things over with a bit of charm, but he’d forgotten that his mother was immune to his antics.

“What do I do…” he groaned, collapsing onto the sofa in defeat.

Donghwa, quick as ever, dodged out of the way before Woori could rest his head on his lap.

“Why won’t you let me?” Woori muttered, glaring at Donghwa, who avoided his gaze as if Woori were some kind of pest.

“Why not rent a studio apartment nearby? You’ve got the money,” Donghwa suggested.

“Who said I’m broke? I just hate studios.”

Woori grumbled, explaining that while he could easily afford a new place, he couldn’t bear the idea of living in a cramped one-room studio. He was used to a more spacious setup, at least two rooms, and the thought of downgrading was unbearable.

Besides, moving to a noisy villa near campus meant dealing with drunken neighbors and sleepless nights. The very thought of it made Woori shudder.

Then, an idea struck him.

“Also, you know what happens when I’m outside. Ever since I manifested as an Omega, every random Alpha on the street catches my pheromones. What if one of them jumps me? It’s terrifying!”

Yeah, right.

“Scared?” Hardly. Most Alphas Woori encountered were smaller than him, making them laughably unimpressive. People liked to claim Alphas were tall, broad-shouldered, and attractive, but that was only true for the lucky few who looked the part. The majority of Alphas were simply people who had the fortune of manifesting as one—often with no corresponding physical or aesthetic blessings.

So no, there was nothing to be scared of.

Ordinarily, such a statement wouldn’t hold any weight, but Woori knew exactly how much Kim Donghwa was affected by those pesky “pheromones.”

A victorious grin crept across Woori’s lips. His mother had hit the nail on the head: the best option was to live with Kim Donghwa.

After all, they’d been inseparable since childhood and knew each other’s habits inside out. Even if they clashed and fought, they always made up quickly. They’d had enough practice turning arguments into something akin to a sport.

Plus, it’d be so convenient—it’s Kim Donghwa we’re talking about here.

Yes, that Kim Donghwa. The very person Woori had been quietly harboring feelings for all these years. Living with him, under a perfectly reasonable excuse, was an opportunity Woori couldn’t let slip by.

He stole a glance at Donghwa, who was scratching his eyebrow with a disgruntled frown, clearly already annoyed by the conversation.

“Ah.”

“Let me move in with you, okay? I’ll handle all the recycling!”

Of course, food waste would still be Donghwa’s responsibility. Woori mumbled the last part under his breath, but Donghwa shot him a sharp glare regardless.

“Ah, but really…” Donghwa sighed heavily, sinking into the sofa. It was as if he could already see the inevitable future where he’d give in. Woori felt a surge of triumph but held back from celebrating too openly—he didn’t want to risk being kicked out before he even moved in.

“Fine, but decide this before you move in.”

“Decide what?” Woori tilted his head in confusion.

Donghwa didn’t answer immediately, instead pulling out a piece of paper and a pen. Woori watched in disbelief as Donghwa began jotting down what looked like… rules?

—
House Rules

Recycling: Woori
Food Waste: Donghwa
—

Donghwa sighed as he wrote “Food Waste,” but didn’t argue, knowing it was a battle he’d never win. Woori, feeling smug, ruffled Donghwa’s hair, only for Donghwa to swat his hand away.

0. Whoever eats last does the dishes.

“Fine, works for me,” Woori agreed easily.

“Your opinion doesn’t matter. These are the conditions for living in my house.”

“Okay, okay.”

Woori wisely zipped his lips. He knew from experience that when Donghwa got this serious, pushing back wouldn’t end well.

0-1. Meals will be cooked alternately.

“What if I can’t cook? Can I order takeout?” Woori asked innocently.

Donghwa immediately added sub-clauses.

– Takeout is allowed only once every two days.
– Dining out is limited to once a week.
– Ideally, neither. ㅗ

Donghwa even carefully drew a middle finger emoji at the end. Woori pouted at the sight. In a country as takeout-friendly as Korea, wasn’t banning delivery food basically unpatriotic? Still, he figured this was something they could negotiate over time.

“Anything else to add?” Woori asked, trying to look as cooperative as possible.

“Should I write down that you need to clean your room yourself?”

“Hey, I can manage that much!”

“Really?”

Donghwa’s skeptical gaze swept over the cluttered state of Woori’s current apartment. Following his gaze, Woori couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed, but he quickly brushed it off.

“Of course I’ll clean! What do you take me for?”

“You don’t clean now,” Donghwa shot back without missing a beat.

Woori just smiled sheepishly, refusing to argue further.

Before leaving, Donghwa gathered his belongings, including the “House Rules” paper, clearly intending to stick it on the fridge for easy reference.

“When are you moving in?”

“Dunno, I might start sneaking things over little by little.”

“Move in by the end of the month. I need to clear out the room, too.”

Even though it was just the apartment next door, Donghwa seemed determined to stick to his timeline.

“Alright, give me the sunny room. I don’t need blackout curtains—I like waking up to sunlight,” Woori added cheekily.

“Wow, you’ve got a lot of demands for a freeloader. Fine, but if we need to add more rules later, we will. You can write some, too, if you want.”

“Got it!”

As Donghwa slipped on his shoes, Woori grabbed his bag at the last second. Donghwa turned, glaring in annoyance.

“Looking forward to living with you, roommate!” Woori said with a beaming smile, extending his hand.

Donghwa didn’t even hesitate before slapping Woori’s hand away with a loud smack!

“I don’t even know why I’m doing this,” Donghwa muttered, stepping out the door.

Three seconds later, Woori heard the sound of Donghwa unlocking his door next door.

The move happened quickly. Woori’s mother had listed the apartment immediately, and before the month was over, the next tenant was lined up.

In the meantime, Woori spent his days whining at Donghwa, claiming his mother must’ve adopted him because no loving parent would let their precious youngest son end up homeless.

Donghwa, unimpressed, simply showed him a photo of their mothers together.

“You’re the spitting image of your mom,” Donghwa said flatly.

The picture showed a younger version of Woori’s mother standing beside Donghwa’s, both smiling brightly. Unlike Donghwa, who took after his father’s sharp features, Woori was undeniably his mother’s mini-me.

“Ugh, who asked you to tell me that?” Woori grumbled, setting a box down with exaggerated carelessness.

“Don’t throw stuff around. I’ll kick you out for real,” Donghwa warned.

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

Well, it worked. Woori sighed, picked up the box again, and carried it into his new room—the sunny one, just as he’d requested. Donghwa had even gone so far as to swap rooms, giving up his own for Woori’s comfort.

Woori smiled as he walked past Donghwa and playfully patted his butt.

“Cut it out,” Donghwa snapped, jumping away like he’d been electrocuted.

It was so entertaining that Woori couldn’t resist repeating the gesture, though the second time earned him a firm grip on the back of his neck.

“Quit messing around and move your stuff properly,” Donghwa grumbled, releasing him with an exasperated sigh.

Still, Woori could tell Donghwa was starting to second-guess his decision to live together.

It’s too late now. Once you’re in, you’re in, Woori thought with a smug grin.

“Regretting it won’t help,” he teased.

As Kim Donghwa wiggled his index finger in front of him, his face twisted into a scowl.

“Ugh… It feels like a leech is stuck to me.”

“Hey, a leech? Do you want to be friends with a leech?”

Pouting his lips in mock offense, Wi Woori retorted. A leech? Seriously? That thing is ugly, and I’m handsome! Wi Woori arched an eyebrow. Kim Donghwa, who had been staring at him intently, sighed deeply and shook his head as if trying to say, There’s no point arguing with you.

“Hurry up and get your stuff sorted. We need to work on the schedule. Course registration is coming up.”

At Donghwa’s words, Woori checked the date. It wasn’t quite registration day yet, but they were exactly three days away from the opening of the course registration cart. It was time to start playing Tetris with their credits, carefully selecting and filling the cart with courses.

Just the thought of it made Woori scrunch his brows as if he’d already had enough. Another semester starting already? The mere idea of rolling in a field of endless assignments was exhausting.

This time, I’m only picking classes with the fewest assignments.

Resolutely setting his goal, Woori glanced at Donghwa with a confused Eh? Why was it suddenly so natural for him to plan Donghwa’s schedule as well? On top of that, Donghwa simply stood behind him, arms crossed, staring expectantly.

“Hey, why do I have to make it? You do it yourself!”

“Because you’re good at it. The Tetris King, Wi Woori.”

That’s a title I didn’t ask for. The way he said it so nonchalantly, as if roles had been assigned, made Woori furrow his brows in mild annoyance. But the memory of Donghwa’s disastrous first-year schedule came rushing back—morning and evening classes scattered like a wild seesaw. Just remembering it was enough to make Woori sigh.

He shook his head.

Poor Donghwa. I guess I’ll have to save him again.

“No group projects. Absolutely not.”

“Of course.”

“What do you prefer, assignments or exams?”

“Exams.”

“Wow, we’re so in sync.”

Before they knew it, the two of them were huddled in front of the laptop, smacking their palms together in triumphant camaraderie. After packing in the mandatory major classes, there weren’t many credits left to fill. They added a few light general education courses and some electives that didn’t seem too demanding, perfectly rounding out to 15 credits.

“Fifteen. Satisfied?”

Woori leaned back and asked. Donghwa nodded lightly in agreement.

“Perfect.”