big world, little people.
life functions in devious ways. it has a knack for leading you down a supposedly definitive road before yanking you by the collar and shoving you toward a different cobbled path; it renders you utterly confounded and grappling for a sense of direction. as malicious as it may sound, life does (occasionally) bestow upon its dwellers anticipated journeys and pleasant surprises in unforeseen forms.
but, for a certain chinese-canadian man standing outside an international preschool in the middle of seoul, life could not possibly get any worse.
“fuck my life,” groans kris as he finally builds up the courage to unlatch the gate and step inside. the white brick building is anything but welcoming; it seems to glower ominously at him although the morning rays are still smoky. even the colorful flags that adorn each window do not appease him, and neither do the obnoxiously yellow slide nor the cherry-red swings.
his worn tissot watch reads 7.47 am - precisely thirteen minutes to go before school is in session (in simpler terms, thirteen minutes to go until the little monsters are in class and fully occupied) so he decides to head to the main office a little earlier than originally planned.
kris slowly makes his way toward the entrance, side-stepping gingerly from right to left in order to avoid squealing little boys and girls. just as he’s about to yank open the front door, a chubby boy rushes past him and keels over the potted plant next to the door. judging by the sticky red mess that the boy’s fingers are, he has had one too many pilfered lollipops for breakfast.
then he unceremoniously vomits. and rather messily at that.
"fuck my life.”
“ah, you’re wu yifan, the new english teacher! i am go ara - the clerk and sometimes the sub.” her eyes twinkle as she extends a supple hand.
he nods, enclosing her fingers within his own and giving them a concise shake. “i go by kris,” he informs her bluntly. through his peripheral vision, he notes that the main office is mostly deserted; the glass door leading to the headmaster’s office exhibits nothing but a neat desk (with an angel-shaped paperweight displayed on top) and an empty swivel chair.
“where is mr. kim?” feeling a little wary, kris asserts, “i’m supposed to meet him before i start work.”
“joonmyun is in tokyo.” ara airily dismisses his concerns, handing him a sheet of paper. “this is your schedule. since we’re understaffed at the moment, you will have to begin right away. don’t worry about joonmyun - i’ll let him know that you’re already here.” as another brilliant smile illuminates her porcelain face, kris feels a strange need to shield his eyes. she chirps, “good luck, yifan!”
“thanks. and like i said, my name is kris.” kris scans the handout quickly. “and i have absolutely no idea where any of these classes are,” he deadpans, refraining from lashing out at her.
before the receptionist could respond, the door behind him screeches open then slams shut. “i'm sure choi sooyoung can show you around. right?” coos ara. kris spins and finds himself facing a tall (not taller than him but still taller than most) young woman who, in her mud-splattered coat and soiled flats, does not look pleased by the arrangement. regardless, she bobs her head in acknowledgement.
“uh, yeah. sure. as soon as i get myself sorted out!” not sparing them another glance, sooyoung trails out of the room barefoot. they see vaguely picking at her unruly hair as she sprints for the restroom.
clearing her throat, ara comments, “she’s a bit of an acquired taste, that sooyoung, but you’ll get used to it, i’m sure. ultimately.”
as he prepares to take on a job he knows nothing about, in a country whose language he has yet to master wholly, kris doubts he'll get used to anything.
“i’ve already explained this before, yixing - i very love you is not a proper way to proclaim your affections for someone. although very is a good descriptive term, it’s better for you to say i love you a lot. it makes more sense.” kris punctuates his explanation with a sigh for the umpteenth time. he has only been teaching for thirty minutes yet his nerves are already frayed beyond repair.
his first group of students for the day is a rowdy bunch five-year-olds, comprised of seven boys (six koreans and two chinese) and five girls (three koreans, a korean-american and a taiwanese-american) who, as willing they are to learn, have productively given him a drubbing headache before recess. again, kris wonders why he decided against being a computer engineer in favor of following his dead grandfather's wishes.
“be a teacher, yifan,” the old man had said. “it’s the most rewarding job in the whole world. educating other people is something honorable. it’ll do you good.”
well, no shit, grandpa. it’ll be good as a method of tormenting my soul.
in order to retain what is left of his sanity, kris turns to one of the english-speaking students. “how’s your work coming along, amber?” he directs his inquiry to the boyish little girl in the front row. “i hope you at least have a few sentences by now.”
“i love my mommy, i love my daddy and i love my sister, jackie. i am glad that they are part of family,” she promptly replies, flashing him a quick grin right after. kris smiles, too. thank god amber has managed to restore a smidgen of his lost patience. “now, why don’t you give sehun a helping hand?”
the generally morose and indifferent boy known as oh sehun has copied zhang yixing’s essay with a little flair of his own (adding four verys before his love you and a much after) peppered into it strategically. it’s conniving - but also clever.
kris misses the sound of the door sliding open but the tentative call of mr. wu? startles him into cognizance.
“i’m so sorry to interrupt,” begins choi sooyoung - who, kris shamelessly notes, is really rather attractive when she isn’t so beleaguered - apologetically, “but the bell rang ten minutes ago. your students are due at my art lesson right now.”
an angelic little girl by the name of choi jinri cheers, much to her english teacher’s chagrin and her art teacher’s amusement. “show mr. wu some respect, jinri-ah. english is not an easy language to learn. you kids are lucky to have such a qualified teacher!” sooyoung puts a stopper on her sermon to quirk an eyebrow at said teacher. she wonders aloud: “mr. wu, are they allowed to leave?”
agitated, kris glimpses at the round wall clack and is appalled to discover that he has indeed exceeded his lesson time.
“wow, look at the time! i am so sorry.” he heatedly shoves pens and flyaway pieces of paper into his briefcase. “i didn’t realize. uh, thank you, class. you can go with miss choi. i’ll see you tomorrow.” he tries to ignore the blatant groan from kim jongdae (insolent little brat) and forces himself to look the brunette in the eye. he babbles, “again, i’m really sorry, miss choi. really.”
sooyoung, astonished by the fact that she finds his rapid lurch into panic endearing, offers a merry grin in return. “that’s okay,” she reassures him as she herds lu han out of the room. “oh, and you can call me sooyoung. if you want to, that is. i’m just letting you know that you can.”
he blinks. “alright,” he concedes, rather hesitantly at that. “yeah. i’ll call you sooyoung. thank you…sooyoung-ssi.”
lee taemin makes abhorrent kissy-faces at them, which causes sooyoung to bring her knuckles down onto his head. he cringes and rubs the sore spot, sticking his leg out at the giggling kim jongin. “okay. come on, kids!” just as she's about to close the door behind her, she cheekily remarks, “before i forget - welcome to the school, yifan.”
he opens his mouth to correct her (something along the lines of it's kris goddammit why can't anyone digest that) but the uncanny shimmer in her eyes tells him that she already knows.
she walks around the room, inspecting the artwork the kids left on the easels. smiling to herself, she runs her fingers across half-dried paintings of princess and castles, dogs and ponies, flowers and ladybugs. chasing after mischievous children all day long for a measly paycheck doesn't sound like the ideal job but when do kyungsoo's portrait of his family begins to assume eyes that are a lot less globular, sooyoung knows that her hard work is worth it.
“knock-knock.” boa pokes her head round the door. “a little birdie tells me that you and the new english teacher have a thing going on.”
sooyoung disdainfully removes the apron she always wears during paint-related activities. “if that little bird is park sunyoung,” she rebukes, “then you shouldn’t believe such rumors.” however, her eyes could not remain on the older woman for too long - a clear sign of her wavering conscience.
“aww, you have a crush!” clapping her hands childishly, boa begins to hop on one foot then the other. “this is so exciting, sooyoung-ah. this school is desperately lacking in romantic sagas ever since minho moved away and yuri became a housewife.”
another figure appears by the doorjamb nosily, arms crossed over his chest. “romantic sagas?” lee jinki (music teacher cum self-proclaimed cupid) raises his eyebrows in profound interest. “tell me more, tell me more!” he demands, resting his chin on his palms.
“it’s kris’ first day here. there’s nothing to tell,” snaps sooyoung, concealing her florid cheeks from view.
a collective oooooh is emitted by her colleagues; she struggles in vain to hide the blush that is surging up her neck. “it’s only recess on his first day and the two of you are already on a first-name basis?” exclaims jinki. he rubs his hands together gleefully. “oh, this is rich. when people hear about this, they will - “
“ - not react because nobody will hear about this nonsense! do you compute?” only two steps forward and sooyoung has her fingers around his neck. boa watches on, amused, before eventually chiding, “don’t scare him like that, sooyoung. you know how fragile his heart is. he isn’t brave enough to spread gossip about you, so relax.” she pats jinki on the shoulder. “you should hang out with chanyeol more. he can give you a crash course in physical education.”
he glowers, batting her hand away.
“how has your first day been so far, kris-ssi?”
although kris would prefer to sit by himself and wallow in self-misery, im yoona - specialty: korean language - and cho kyuhyun - field of expertise: math - have taken it upon themselves to keep him company.
“i suppose it hasn’t been too bad,” he muses, peering down at the flaccid tuna sandwich he purchased at the cafeteria. “the kids are…kids.”
yoona nods, breaking her large chocolate chip cookie into two and offering kris one half. as soon as he declines, kyuhyun grabs it from her and shoves it into his mouth. she rolls her eyes.
“did anyone show you around the place?” asks kyuhyun. “the school is tiny but it’s a maze, really. on my first day, i taught math to kids who were supposed to learn music.” he crunches noisily on the cookie (kris does everything in his power to avoid cringing) without a care for the world. “the receptionist asked sooyou - miss choi to show me around before my first class this morning,” kris mutters in return, “so i can find my around, sort of.”
“first-name basis, huh? interesting,” teases yoona, gazing at him over the rim of her coffee mug. he coughs loudly as he tears the crust off his sandwich. “there’s nothing interesting about it, yoona-ssi.” his casual jibe does not deter her. instead, it merely amplifies the smirk she has on. leaning forward, she says, “sooyoung is available, you know. though i’m no expert, she seems to be quite the catch.”
since kyuhyun is, after all, of the male population, he feels obliged to confirm yoona’s suggestion with a series of ardent nods.
“that isn’t what i’m aiming for.” being interrogated by people whose names he can barely remember isn’t necessarily kris’ idea of a good day (teaching english to a cluster of five-year-old blockheads isn’t, either) but since he is going to be stuck with them for a while, he tones down his aloofness. “but i’m sure miss choi is an extremely nice person,” he adds.
his colleagues chortle, in perfect unison. “oh, she is. definitely.” kyuhyun furtively crumples the issue he used to wipe his mouth into a ball.
days uneventfully progress into weeks and kris discovers that he has, more or less, adapted to life in seoul. more importantly, his job as a preschool teacher has become less of a saddle and more of a legitimate occupation.
“like i’ve promised,” kris begins, “we’re going to talk about animals today.”
the children earnestly cheer. animals have somewhat become their forte due to his relentless drilling for them to memorize a list of them by heart. “but animals are a part of science,” interjects an affronted lee soonkyu, “and miss kwon teaches us science!” sighing, kris sets his marker on his desk.
“i’m not going to teach you much about them,” he reassures her, as well as the rest of the classroom. “i’m just going to draw an animal on the whiteboard and anyone who knows what it’s called in english will raise their hand and give me the answer. amber, krystal, lu han and kyungsoo, please raise your hand before blurting out the answer, okay?”
the more fluent english-speakers (kyungsoo can only recite the days of the week and lu han the seven colors of the rainbow but that's better than nothing) nod.
he uncaps his marker again and swivels to face the whiteboard. “before we get started - jongdae?” the little boy’s eyebrows shoot up. his lips set in a firm line, kris reproofs, “if i get another homework sheet from you with nothing but kim jongdaebak scribbled on it i will call your mother. i am not kidding.” he disregards the hushed sniggers from taemin and jongin. and now, as he stands in front of the whiteboard, kris is brutally reminded of the verity that he cannot draw.
oh, well.
“that’s a donkey,” yixing whispers to sunyoung, who vehemently shakes her head. “no, yixing. i’m telling you - it’s a reindeer!” their teacher puts the finishing touches on his unrecognizable work of art whilst the befuddled children attempt to decipher the simple drawing.
krystal, irritated, points her pencil at both of them. “don’t be silly,” she scoffs. “it’s obviously a normal deer.”
“okay.” with a hint of pride, kris questions, “who can guess what this is?”
instantaneously, all twelve hands soar into the air (he feels satisfaction flower in his chest; are his teaching methods that effective?) and tiny feet stamp the floor in eagerness.
as quickly as it had come, though, the pleasure dissipates ten minutes later when none of the students answer correctly. “just tell us what it is, mr. wu,” jinri complains, head lolling onto her desk. “i’m tired.” she yawns to prove her point.
biting back an exasperated moan, kris eventually announces: “it’s a rhinoceros, kids. i drew a rhino.” the twelve occupants of his classroom stare at him as if he’s grown an extra pair of ears.
“you call that a rhino, yifan?” a familiar voice - one that he doesn’t particularly want to hear at that very moment - resonates in the room. shoulders shaking with palpable laughter, sooyoung steps forward and gently retracts the marker out of his hand. “let me show you what a real rhino looks like.”
within minutes, she sketches a rhinoceros that even national geographic would approve of. and naturally, it degrades his own drawing to the level of a stick figure. “if you can’t draw,” she rags, “then don’t.”
“maybe you can teach me.” one of kris’ weaknesses is that his mouth works faster than his brain.
fortunately, the request is barely audible (which sooyoung is grateful for because she would never live it down if the kids manage to catch wind of it) yet it isn't discounted. “sure,” she finds herself answering as she returns the marker to him, “i can teach you. yeah, we’ll make it work.”
and she coerces herself to believe that his simpering is not appealing in any way whatsoever.
“you can’t even draw a mouse properly and you expect me to teach you how to draw a decent koala by next week’s lesson? you’re incorrigible.”
they have twenty minutes for recess but since neither of them has a class after that, they decided to sneak out to the quaint little café a few blocks away from the preschool.
“well, i wouldn’t want you to barge in again and make fun of me in front of my students, would i?” kris mentions, scraping his fork against the plate of cheesecake they’re sharing. “as if they don’t already think i’m an idiot. i would appreciate it if you flaunt your superiority a little less.” her head bows due to her suppressed chuckles; his petulance really does not befit his forceful veneer.
“glad you think this is funny,” he gripes.
sooyoung shakes her head quickly (he tries not to gawk when stray curls from her chignon glide against her cheekbones) as she stirs her cappucino. “i didn’t mean to humiliate you,” she insists. “you were just so detached from the kids, you know? i needed to bring you back - one way or another.” their lips simultaneously twitch.
he heaves a sigh. “kids are not my strong point. i’m not good with them, so they dislike me in return. i don’t even know what the hell i’m doing as a preschool teacher.”
“are you kidding me? they adore you, kris!” surprise colors sooyoung’s face in diverse shades of pink.
the revelation is genuinely new to him so kris doesn’t bother to mask his shock. “they do?” he ponders.
“they do,” she affirms strongly. “they talk about you all the time during my lessons. sure, they also think you’re a little uncool but their affections for you run pretty deep.” her giggles pierce into his train of thought. “to understand children, you need to see the world from their point of view.”
before she could continue, kris interposes hastily: “do they talk about me or do you?”
he knows he’s struck jackpot when a fiery crimson sieves into her cheeks. “there’s no need to lie,” he murmurs, shoving another forkful of cake into his mouth. when he raises his head, sooyoung's face is a few inches away from his as she peers at him (probably in aggravation or even hilarity) and he does the one thing that flits his through mind. a fleeting moment that could potentially be catastrophic but kris is done with second-guessing his entire life.
he kisses her.
and surprisingly - to him - she kisses him back.
“ewwwwww!” a sudden holler severs the moment but the worst part is not the yelling.
it’s the fact that there are twelve faces pressed against the window; the boys - specifically taemin, who must have been the culprit behind the obnoxious squawk - leave stains on the glass as they squash their noses against it while the girls whisper into each other’s ears and titter. “mr. wu and miss choi, sitting in a tree! k-i-s-s-i-n - “
chanyeol finally catches up with the kids, panting heavily. as he nudges the kids along, he mouths recess is over with a shit-eating grin gilding his lips.