[✔] ROOMMATE FOR HIRE ── chanlix

sechsundzwanzig.

"Are you still mad at me?" Chan asked under his breath, his shoulder lightly bumping Felix's while they walked down the hall.

The day before, after Chan had stolen Felix's paintbrush and painted an annoyingly blue line on his face, the two got into a little quarrel with one another. Nothing too bad.

Until Chan decided to paint yet another blue streak right over Felix's right eye. Now his eyelashes were unevenly stained- somehow -with the cheap dollar store paint.

Whoever said that this paint was washable was a liar.

Then Chan got it in his hair; which Felix wouldn't have minded if it didn't get stained a god awful green color when he rinsed it out.

If he wanted to dye his hair, he would have gotten green box dye. He wouldn't have used cheap paint that was probably going to ruin his hair just as much.

Plus, the green streaks were absolutely horrendous.

Felix wasn't even able to get anything in Chan's hair; so the older's hair had gotten away from their paint fight unscathed and still completely brown and blond.

So, yes, Felix was still mad at Chan. Not, 'I'm going to shave your head in your sleep' mad, but mad.

Reasonably mad.

Instead of responding to Chan, he turned his head and glanced at the banner hanging on the wall, reading something about a play that the acting students were going to put on.

"Come on, Lee, it's not even that bad, you look fine. It's the green that doesn't look fine."

Felix let out a small huff, scrunching his nose up at the older male. "It's your fault that I have it in my hair to begin with."

The older male let out an audible huff. "You do know that if you would have just let me help you get it out of your hair, you wouldn't have it in your hair right now. I offered to help, you called me a pervert." Chan grunted.

"Because you are!"

Chan let out a gasp. "I'll have you know I would have kept your pants on you little asswipe. But, whatever, keep your green hair now."

Felix scrunched his nose up again, sticking his tongue out at the male before he turned towards their lecture hall. He released a huff as he pulled open the door.

"Ladies first."

There was a beat of silence, and Chan simply stared in Felix's direction with an unamused expression. Felix just stared back in his direction, an eyebrow arched at him.

Chan then placed a hand on Felix's shoulder and tugged him away from the door. Despite Felix's physical protest to being shoved inside of the room, Chan pushed him inside.

The younger male let out a huff once the lecture hall door closed behind them, glaring over his shoulder at him. "That wasn't very ladylike of you, loser."

A smile put itself on Chan's lips, and he leaned forward slightly. "Shut up, Polly Pocket. I don't think you want to be reminded that you're the one stealing my clothes."

His face dropped into an expression of confusion, eyebrows creased and mouth open slightly as he shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about," he lied, folding his arms over his chest as he tilted his chin up.

"Felix, you're wearing my hoodie. Again."

The lecture hall door opened the moment Felix went to object, and heels clicked in loudly.

Immediately his face fell, and he scrunched his nose up again before dropping his hands into the front pockets.

"Ah, so you are talking to each other? I didn't think that you would still associate with him, Chan," Meghan stepped forward, head tilted to the side as she stopped right beside Chan. "Why are you talking to him, anyway?"

There was a beat of silence where Felix just glared at Megan, and Chan stared at Felix apologetically.

Chan then cleared his throat and stepped away from Megan, now standing at Felix's side. "It shouldn't really concern you, Megan. Now I'm sure our professor would appreciate you taking your leave."

"He's not in here."

With a shrug, Felix turned on his heel and snatched Chan's hand into his own hand, slotting his finger's between the older's and marching his way triumphantly to the spot that he normally sat.

Did he care if he left Megan standing awkwardly at the front of the class? No, he did not. Did he care if he was holding Chan's hand?

Also no, he did not.

It was warm, it was soft. Comfortable.

Dropping his bag on the table in front of him, Felix sat himself down in his chair. Chan eventually sat down right beside him, squeezing his hand lightly before struggling to wiggle his bag off of his shoulder.

"Can I have my hand back?" Chan asked, lightly raising their entwined hands. 

He lifted his head slightly, eyebrows raised as he stared at him. "I don't know, you gonna give it back to me?"

The other male blinked at him. "You aren't left handed. Nor ambidextrous. And I thought you were still mad at me for accidentally getting paint in your hair?"

Immediately, Felix let go of Chan's hand, shoving it away from him as he scrunched up his nose. "Yeah, you're right, I'm still mad at you. Fuck you."

"When and where?"

Felix scrunched his nose again, this time into disgust. "What the fuck? Not anywhere, and never."

The older pouted his lips, dropping his bag into his lap as he sifted through his things and pulled out the notebook. "You were the one that offered it," he muttered, his lips eventually turning into a small smile.

Gently, Felix swatted Chan's arm, slowly sliding his own bag off of the table and to the floor beside him.

Felix's stool then moved slightly, causing Felix to jerk to the side and stare up at the male who had tugged on the metal legs to get it to move closer.

Chan gave him an innocent smile, tugging the legs of the stool towards him once again to make the top of the stool touch his own. Felix just stared at him.

"You wanted to hold my hand, I'm just making it easier for you." Chan then dropped his arm over Felix's shoulders, "even if you want to pretend to be mad at me."

Felix snorted, lifting his left hand to gently to grab Chan's.

"I'm still very, very mad at you."

The older male chuckled slightly, "Sure you are, princess."

-    /    -

a/n || the next time my band director pokes fun at me for laggy internet im gonna ditch his class