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"Kwan, whose tie is that?"
As he slides into his seat next to Seokmin in Potions, Seungkwan glances down at his uniform. His usually green-striped tie is now a bright yellow, and he feels a blush bloom across his cheeks.
"Nobody's," he mumbles, tugging his robes tighter around himself in a feeble attempt to hide the wardrobe mishap.
He vaguely remembers waking up late— and rather sore , he might add—and rushing to throw on whatever he could find scattered across the room. Now, he mentally curses his past choices, but there's no time to search for his actual tie. Their professor sweeps into the room before he can dwell on it, launching immediately into the day’s lesson.
The rest of the day is a blur of hallway greetings, note-scribbled questions about test schedules, and racing from one classroom to the next. Seungkwan’s patience begins to fray like the hem of his robe—something he’s started to toy with whenever he’s nervous. The yellow tie remains stubbornly snug around his neck, loud and cheerful against his otherwise pristine Slytherin uniform, and he's certain at least three people have already given him peculiar looks.
He’s scoured every corner of the library, peeked into classrooms he doesn't even take, and circled the greenhouses twice. Still no sign of him.
By late afternoon, with a dramatic sigh and a growling stomach, Seungkwan finally gives up the hunt and heads toward the Great Hall—defeated, slightly disheveled, and very much still wearing someone else’s tie.
By the time dinner rolls around, Seungkwan’s still stuck in the unmistakably yellow accessory. He slides into his seat between Seokmin and Minghao, tugging at the knot like he can will it to change colors.
"Someone’s been spending a lot of time in Hufflepuff colors today," Jeonghan teases him from across the table, raising an eyebrow with far too much amusement.
Seungkwan scowls into his soup. "It’s not on purpose." He has tried—honestly.
Minghao snickers beside him. Seokmin smiles bewilderedly, like he can’t quite figure out what he’s hiding. Seungkwan’s face burns, and he busies himself with aggressively shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth.
Halfway through dinner, someone brushes past behind him. It's Joshua, who leans down just enough to murmur, "Your boy’s here."
Seungkwan’s head snaps up so fast that Seokmin gives him a startled look—but he couldn’t care less. His eyes dart across the hall until they land on a familiar mop of wavy brown hair at the Hufflepuff table.
He’s on his feet in seconds, stalking over with purpose and a flare of embarrassment. A few students pause mid-bite to watch. Seungkwan taps the boy on the shoulder, arms crossed like a storm cloud.
Hansol turns around slowly, smiling lazily, a curious glint in his eye.
“Hansol,” Seungkwan huffs, holding out a hand. “Give me my tie back.”
Hansol blinks at him innocently—then grins. “But you look so good in yellow, Boo.”
Seungkwan blushes, sputtering as he pulls off the tie and gestures for Hansol to do the same. With practiced ease, he slips his proper Slytherin tie back over his head and begins knotting it neatly. Then, without thinking, he steps forward and adjusts Hansol’s tie too.
“You need to be more responsible,” he mutters, fingers brushing the base of Hansol’s throat.
Just as he pulls the knot tight, something catches his eye—a smear of red and blue just under Hansol’s collar. His breath stutters. A hickey. He blushes furiously at the memory of their activities of the night prior. The catalyst for this exact situation.
Hansol just smiles again, reaching up to fiddle with the edge of Seungkwan’s tie before following his gaze. His fingers brush over the mark like he only just remembered it was there—and he blushes, too.
Seungkwan turns to retreat, heart racing, but before he can take a step, a hand catches his sleeve and tugs him back.
Suddenly, Hansol’s lips are on his—firm, warm, and unbothered by the now-silent Hall around them.
When he pulls away, Seungkwan’s mind is blank. Everyone is staring. Of course they are.
Hansol grins like it’s the most casual thing in the world.
“Thanks, doll,” he says, then turns back to his plate like he didn’t just out their entire cross-house relationship in five seconds flat.
Seungkwan stares for a beat, then sighs, shoulders slumping as he walks back toward the Slytherin table, toying with the hem of his robe.
“Well,” he mutters under his breath, “I guess that’s one way to do it.”