(for joondaes) Hot For Teacher - Part 1 of 2
For: joondaes
Title: Hot For Teacher
Pairings: Kai/D.O, mentioned!Luhan/Chen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 8,821
Warnings: (Clearly your definition of delinquent differs from mine and I'M SORRY.)
Summary: Sometimes Kyungsoo forgot Jongin was his student...
Author’s Note: Wails, I suck. I have so many things to say, and among those things are I'm sorry. I don't even―I'm not even―I am not in a right state of mind. I've been working on this all Summer and literally four days before final submission, I chANGE THE WHOLE STORY, GO IN A WHOLE NEW DIRECTION AND I AM SORRY. I don't know how far from the prompt I deviated or why I let this happen. (Jongin is less delinquent and more smart mouth, I suppose. IDK) I hate and love this with a passion as hot as a thousand burning suns (okay, maybe twenty burning suns. It's not terrible, I don't think). THANK YOU, prompter, for sending me such wonderful prompts. Know that I love you a lot. I hope you enjoy this!!! Happy reading!!!
When Kyungsoo had first entered the high school where he was newly hired, he'd been amazed by the grandeur of the campus. It was open and welcoming, the tall white pillars of the building looming over his head like an ancient Greek palace.
"Just our little corner for those eager to learn. Nothing too extraordinary―but don't say that to the architects," Mr Park, the principal, had said to him after he'd given him a quick tour last week. Kyungsoo thought it was pretty extraordinary, what with the impressive murals and always working staff. He could tell that he would like it here. The school specialized in treating students in the skills they wished to improve. Most of the pupil were advanced, mature, always digging for more knowledge, ambitious, adventurous, daring―typical Honour Students―and he could see that in the essays he was currently correcting, given by their last teacher before she went into labour. Kyungsoo was ready to feed their curious minds by being the best English teacher he could be.
"Mr Do!" the principal called as he entered the English Department and made his way to his desk. He had a wide smile plastered to his face, teeth and all, framed by his wild red curls that bounced at the slightest movement. "How are you settling in?"
It was hard not to share Mr Park's enthusiasm about everything. He smiled back. "Just fine, thank you. I'm really happy to be here." It hadn't taken long for Kyungsoo to settle in the rhythmic life of a new teacher, despite the little preparation he'd had.
Mr Park's smile widened. "Well, I'm glad you were able to accept the position on such short notice. Mrs White didn't know she was pregnant until her water broke in class." Mr Park put his weight on one side, taking a moment to chuckle and reminisce. "Hilarious," he exclaimed. Kyungsoo thought that was...traumatizing more than hilarious. He decided he'd never understand the principal's humour. He collected himself before handing him a white manila folder with a list stapled to it. "Here's the curriculum Mrs White left for her special Writer's Craft course."
Kyungsoo thanked him as he took it, skimming over the list and the folder's content. "You know," Mr Park pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I wouldn't worry too much about the students, yet."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well,"―he smacked his lips―"some like to cause trouble. And by some, I really mean Kim Jongin." He reached over to point at the name of the student in question on the list. Kyungsoo gave him a confused look. "He lacks...tact." Mr Park's eyes widened as if he'd found the perfect word to describe the student. "Have you corrected his essay yet?"
The teacher shook his head, a little apprehensive. He knew of Kim Jongin. He was the quiet kid who sat at the back of the class and made it a point to ignore every word that left the teacher's mouth (though he got the sneaking suspicion that he wished to tune out everyone around him). He riffled through the pile of uncorrected assignments until he came across the one written by Kim Jongin. Understanding the Roots of Wildlife Destruction was the title, and when he flipped through it, Mr Park patiently gauging his reaction in front of him, he discovered five pages of whiteness, the sixth the only one with few words.
This dead tree says, "Suck my ass."
The principal broke out into a fit of loud cackles. He threw his head back as he laughed. "Oh. Oh man," he breathed, pretending to wipe away a tear. He might have found it amusing, however Kyungsoo was less than impressed. He was irritated, insulted that a student would use such language and submit it. This wasn't right or formal and a blatant misuse of the language.
There were far better, less vulgar yet still dramatic expressions he could have used.
"And now you know who Jongin is. He's always been this way―curt yet straight to his point."
"What do I do about this?" Kyungsoo asked, but he got the feeling there weren't any disciplinary actions taken against Jongin anymore.
He gave the teacher one last reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Don't dwell too long on him; he refuses to change."
Kyungsoo wasn't having it. He would speak to this student―this Honour Student, no less.
The thing about talking to Kim Jongin was that he was scary. More so as the class was emptying quickly, and it was just the two of them and a few slowpokes left. The difference of authority between them was evident, but Kyungsoo couldn't help but feel small under his student's intense gaze―both physically and figuratively. Kyungsoo looked up and kept looking up, because Jongin was at least half a head taller than him, a full head now that he was leaning against his desk. Kyungsoo rose to his full height to feel less small.
Kyungsoo took a better look at Jongin now that he wasn't sitting in a corner. Tall, dark and handsome were words that described him well, his defined cheekbones and full lips a sight to see. Kyungsoo imagined Jongin didn't have a wide range of emotions, limited between I don't care and I really don't care, but the expression he was sporting now read I don't give a shit. Kyungsoo struggled to not look less confident than he was feeling, what with Jongin's dark eyes boring into his soul.
"Um," he smartly started. He picked up Jongin's assignment. "We need to talk about your essay―or rather the lack thereof." Jongin's expression didn't change. Kyungsoo crossed his arms. "You're not as eloquent in writing as you are in speech. Ha ha..." He laughed nervously. "That was a...That was a joke, because you don't speak much?" Kyungsoo didn't why his voice rose at the end of his sentence, as if he were asking a question. Maybe he was searching for some signal of acknowledgment from the youngster in front of him. He blinked. Jongin stared. "Anyways. You do realize I can't accept this, right? It's inappropriate and doesn't meet any of the requirements set by your previous teacher. And it seems that none of the assignments you've handed in do so. Are you aware that you're failing the class? It's affecting the average but mostly it's affecting yours." Jongin shrugged, clearly not invested in the conversation. Kyungsoo sighed and walked around the desk to sit down. He was frowning at the other essays needing correcting, a little frustrated that he literally could not get a word out of his student.
Jongin stood in front of him a few moments, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, before Kyungsoo realized he was waiting for dismissal. Polite, he thought, but not in writing. "All right, get out of here. I have essays to correct. Honour students, my butt," he muttered the last part, but Jongin had caught it. He displayed the most emotion Kyungsoo had ever seen before exiting: he gave him a small smile.
Another thing about Kim Jongin, Kyungsoo remarked, was that he wasn't stupid. At least he didn't look stupid.
When he was in the library, and Jongin happened to be sitting in the same secluded corner by the counter, he could be seen looking over his notes quite studiously. Sitting comfortably with his leg up, a thick book balanced against his knee and a pen stuck between his teeth, Jongin was the image of a model student hitting the books. He could easily breeze through books varying in size, written by the likes of Shakespeare and Homer, or even sit through complicated, college-level biochemistry manuals, notes strewn across the round table in front of him.
It was one thing to look smart, and an entirely different thing to write down one's thoughts so that their knowledge and understanding could be graded by the teacher and hopefully pull the class average out of the infernal Bs. Kyungsoo would prefer Jongin choose the latter for their next assignment.
"You're staring at me."
The teacher nearly jumped out of his skin. In his surprise, he managed to drop three significantly heavy books on his foot, backing into the return tray behind him, which backed into the bookshelf and made it precariously lean forward. It didn't fall, so Kyungsoo released a relieved breath. He calmed himself down enough to realize this was the first time he'd ever really heard Jongin's voice, and it was nice and deep and suave, like puberty had hit him in the throat quite hard. He would have liked to tell Jongin how nice it was to hear his voice, but Kyungsoo opted to flush and duck his head.
"I w-wasn't." He promptly excused himself, forgetting his books, before words like, wow, I could fall asleep to your voice made it out of his mouth. He had practically ran out of the library.
As Kyungsoo sped-walk back to the Department, he tried to calm himself down again. It was stupid of him to have noticed how close Jongin had been standing next to him (How had he not noticed him stand up and walk towards him?), and he didn't like the way he made him nervous. It was embarrassing, unmanly and totally un-teacher-like of him.
The second time Kyungsoo asked Jongin to stay after class to talk to him about his grade―actually talk to him and not make a total fool of himself trying to be authoritative―Jongin actually responded.
"Whoa. You're actually talking to me," had slipped out of Kyungsoo. He was genuinely surprised. There was a beat of silence before Jongin responded.
"I'm regretting it already..."
Kyungsoo smiled at his student.
"Fascinating?" Jongin asked.
Now he was just making fun of him. "That you're talking to me?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"How a person can simultaneously disregard authority whilst still doing what it is that that authority figure is enforcing?"
Kyungsoo blinked. For a moment, he was filled with pride because that was the longest sentence the kid had ever uttered to him, feeling the strong urge to reach out and pull his cheek, cooing at him like a proud father. He resisted that urge by blinking again, frowning. He was pretty sure he had asked Jongin about the progress of his recent assignment. Seeing as Jongin liked to attend class yet disregard his authority, he decided he'd humour him for now. "Are you talking about yourself?"
"I like to reflect myself in my work."
"That's great, Jongin," Kyungsoo breathed, a strained, stressed smile on his lips. "That's really, really great. I just need you to, you know, do your work and then hand it in so that I can see that." Jongin chewed the inside of his cheek, which was a dead giveaway that no progress had been recorded. Kyungsoo asked again. "How is your short story coming along?"
"It's not," Jongin said truthfully, his expression falling. Kyungsoo nodded thoughtfully.
"Do you need any help?"
"No," he said without missing a beat. Kyungsoo frowned. "I'm working on it. Can I go?"
He dismissed Jongin. There was only so much Kyungsoo could do for a student unwilling to accept his help.
Kyungsoo released a sharp breath, carding his fingers through his hair. He rested his elbow on his desk, his hand still tangled in his dark strands, feeling completely exasperated. It was a late Friday night. Kyungsoo was one of the few teachers from their Department who stayed behind to take care of last-minute correcting, most of them not wanting to drag their work over the weekend. He figured he ought to stay as well to maximize his efficiency as a relatively new teacher. (That and, if he hadn't, he’d have felt unbearably unproductive today despite having finished correcting his students’ essays during lunch, and the guilt of non-productivity would have kept him up all night.)
"UGH," Kyungsoo exclaimed, slamming his arm down on his papers. Lu Han looked up from his desk, Kyungsoo's outburst having garnered his attention. Lu Han blinked over the rim of the coffee mug he was holding up, eyeing the new teacher warily. This wasn't the first time Kyungsoo cried in frustration. He'd been doing it for the past few days and Lu Han was beginning to worry. He'd never bothered asking what was troubling him for so long―Lu Han wasn't exactly the come-talk-to-me-about-your-problems type of guy. It wasn't that he didn't care; he had just always been a quiet, reserved person, preferring not to perturb his peaceful lifestyle with another's issues. As his students would say, he's not about that life.
Lu Han pretended not to have heard, returning his gaze to his own paperwork. Kyungsoo released another solemn breath. He didn't look up, deciding he'd leave Kyungsoo to wallow by himself again.
Yixing didn't have the same idea. The substitute teacher noisily wheeled his chair in front of the sulking teacher's desk, standing up to poke his head over the divider. Lu Han looked up to see his friend's bright face staring down at Kyungsoo with hooded eyes, a creepy smile stretching his lips. "Why the long face, Mr Do?" he drawled almost dreamily. Yixing was of the firm belief that he must embody whatever subject he was teaching whenever he taught it. Today it was psychology. Evaluating the mental processes of a person by asking them what was bothering them fell under that category, he concluded. Lu Han shook his head at his weird friend, looking back down.
Kyungsoo sighed as he looked up at his colleague. "Nothing. Thanks for the concern." He gave him a small smile.
Yixing tucked in his chin, giving him a knowing look. He moved his chair around the divider to sit next to Kyungsoo. He put his hand on his shoulder. If there was one thing he learned in college while he slept through those psychology 101 classes, it was that trust must be established between doctor and patient. "I'm here for you. You can trust me." Lu Han rolled his eyes.
The new teacher laughed nervously before slyly slipping Yixing's hand off of his shoulder. "Thanks. Really, I'm fine."
"Okay, Kyungsoo." He replaced his hand on his shoulder. "But know that we teachers are here to support each other."
"Yixing," Lu Han called from his desk. "Leave the man alone. You're starting to creep me out."
The supply teacher pouted, disappearing behind the divider.
Kyungsoo threw the Chinese teacher an appreciative smile. They both returned to their business before Kyungsoo whirled around to stare at Lu Han, worrying his lip. "Can I ask you for your advice, actually?" It wasn't that he doubted Yixing's intentions, he was just...quirky.
Lu Han resisted the urge to sigh. He put down his mug. "Sure."
The English teacher pulled up a chair in front of Lu Han's desk as if he were a student being scolded. Lu Han suddenly regretted indulging him, vaguely wondering how rude it would be to tell him to take his problem elsewhere. "Say I'm having a trouble with a student―"
"Kim Jongin," Lu Han guessed immediately. Kyungsoo blinked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"Okay, yes. Jongin. How do I deal with him?" Kyungsoo didn't like the word deal. Jongin wasn't a problem that needed to be dealt with; rather he didn't know how to approach him. "How do I help him?"
"Help who?" Mr Park asked as he waltzed into the office. He was smiling as he made his way to the coffee machine. Kyungsoo didn't know why he choose to hang out in their Department instead of the Teacher's Lounge. It made him wonder how busy he really was as principal if he often found time to pay them a visit. Mr Park turned to face them, coffee mug at his lips.
It was Yixing who answered him. "Kim Jongin."
Mr Park raised an eyebrow. He had heard the teacher but not seen him. "I'm behind here," he announced, his hand shooting up from behind the divider. The principal nodded. "Is there something wrong with Kim Jongin?"
"Nothing more than usual, I don't think," Lu Han answered. He shrugged.
"Has he submitted another essay?" Mr Park's eyes gleamed with amusement.
"No, that's the problem. He hasn't been graded all term."
"Talk to him," Lu Han advised.
"I tried. He didn't say much about it."
"Fight him." They looked at their principal. "He used to be quite the fighter." He took a sip of coffee.
Easy for you to say, Kyungsoo thought, sinking down into his seat. Mr Park was a former mixed martial arts athlete whose lean structure and height add to the fact that he was still completely intimidating when he wanted to be. Kyungsoo was a small, frail man with questionable fashion taste who was as intimidating as a tiny cat. He clawed the air cutely to support his thought. But he couldn't very well fight his student.
Lu Han watched him and seemed to grow irritated. "Don't suggest something so stupid." The principal's smile only widened. “And stop considering it.”
"Well, since you're so bent on helping him,"-he turned to Kyungsoo―"maybe you need to sit him down and―I don't mean force, but force him to understand his situation. You know, that he's failing." Another sip.
Kyungsoo frowned. "Lu Han made the suggestion. I tried."
"Inspire him to better himself today, for a better tomorrow," Yixing sleepily said from his hiding place. There was a silence that followed his words as the others registered them.
Kyungsoo thought about it. Could he inspire his student to be a better student? He supposed he could try it.
Luhan was the first to speak. "By God, I think that's the smartest thing you've ever said."
Monday arrived. Kyungsoo stood in front of his Writer's Craft class a nervous wreck. It was all suddenly daunting to stand before them, ready to inspire a particularly uninspired young lad by covering it up as a lecture. Kyungsoo was never apt at oral presentation, though it was different when he was teaching them about the way of the language. He was usually in his element on any other day, ready to help whatever student because that was what appealed to him as a teacher, as opposed to now where he was quite literally winging it thirty minutes before class. It was different because Writer's Craft demanded individual attention, not all of it all at once.
He swept his eyes across the desks, avoiding the corner from where he could feel Jongin's gaze on him.
"Words," he began. "They're difficult, aren't they? Intimidating, cutting, even when they're not there. I'm talking about the moments you wasted searching for the best comeback to your siblings' insults. That word that escaped you during your presentation that you replaced with 'um' and 'uh'.
Maybe you're not the type of person with those problems, but trust me when I say your vocabulary might be the most lacking―and that includes me.
Now I'm the guy constantly searching to improve my vocabulary, and in this class, that's the person I need you to be. If you're already that person, perfect―that's the person I want you to always be.
But before we get to bettering ourselves, I want to know where we stand as a class. Yes, that's right. A diagnostic evaluation."
The Honour Students didn't whine. Jongin rolled his eyes.
Kyungsoo continued. "I know it's weird to give a diagnostic evaluation after a few assignments but I think it'll help me understand how to go about teaching you guys, seeing as I'm still quite new.
After this, I'm going to ask you guys to write to convey an emotion.
Some of you might have trouble explaining how you feel. Apprehensive. Nervous. Scared. I want you guys to practice with this diagnostic. Write about how you feel right now. Or maybe how you felt yesterday when you fought with your parents. How you felt five years ago on that one day. Choose your moment, write a diary entry and convey an emotion, or even many. Ask yourself this question when you're done: Will a complete stranger be able to understand the feeling?
Leave it on your desk at the end of class. It's fine if you don't finish."
He looked right at Jongin. "Just write the first thing that comes to your mind."
But of course, by the end of class, Jongin's paper was blank.
Embarrassed. Kyungsoo was embarrassed. He had given this whole embarrassing speech about words and how they're not scary and had looked like a total pretentious ass in front of his whole class, in front of the student he'd hoped to inspire only for his efforts to return fruitless. There hadn't even been lead residue or ink marks on the paper to indicate that he had tried to write something down, no dirty eraser bits, either.
They were sitting at a round table in the bustling cafeteria, surrounded by loud students who were ready to stop thinking for a good hour and enjoy a good lunch eating and chattering. Lu Han sat to Kyungsoo's left, leisurely chewing his Caesar salad, working hard to tune out whatever Yixing, who sat to Kyungsoo's right, was saying. He was probably wondering why they were actually eating in the cafeteria when there was a Teacher's Lounge for them, and how they'd talked him into it. "Free tacos," Yixing had answered when he had asked. Yixing was substituting for a first year health class today, and whatever warnings about practising safe sex he had Lu Han absolutely did not want to hear.
The English teacher wasn't paying very much attention either. His thoughts were stuck on one Kim Jongin.
"Ask me how a kid single-handedly brings down the class average to a B minus?" He asked when Yixing took a moment to breathe between information, removing the fork he had been holding from his mouth.
Lu Han shrugged. "You know, this could be bad for your performance review."
Kyungsoo groaned loudly and carefully sprawled himself upon the table surface. The performance review. With his thoughts constantly wrapped around his student, he had completely forgotten about it. Not that he could really do much about it now seeing as the results are based on class average, but a B minus in a school for the intellectually advanced is unacceptable, deplorable, cause for dismissal. Just Jongin.
"Did you know," Yixing started, leaning back into his chair as he fixed his colleagues with a proud look, as if he were about to teach them some Grand Revelation. "That the number one reason for academic failure is not sex?" Both Lu Han and Kyungsoo were looking at him now. "Which is good because chances are, Jongin isn't abstaining from writing because of sex. Which is doubly good because chances are, he won't get AIDs and die."
"You are,"―Lu Han pinched the bridge of his nose, crossing his arms―"almost as stupid as Chanyeol."
"Oh, are you and Mr Park on first name basis, now?" Yixing teased, shielding himself with his arms as his long-time friend threatened to throw his fork at him.
"Shut up."
"Maybe he has a point," Kyungsoo said to no one in particular. Lu Han looked at him like he had grown a second head. "Maybe there's a reason."
It occurred to Kyungsoo that he had never asked Jongin why he never wrote. There could be a reason (―as Yixing so pointedly observed: not sex) that was affecting him. Perhaps a problem he had encountered, a bullying incident, a family matter, or maybe the academic pressure was just getting to him. (He understood how attending a school for the intellectually gifted could be stressful when you're in constant competition with excellent peers.)
Kyungsoo thanked Yixing before excusing himself, taking the rest of his lunch with him.
Lu Han watched him go before turning back to Yixing, who gave him a dimpled grin. "That's twice, now, that I was helpful."
"Nnh." The Chinese teacher made a noise at the back of his throat to show his disagreement as he took a sip of his drink. "I don't count the inspiration thing; it was a total flop."
Kyungsoo fixed the scarf he was wearing so it sat snuggly on his face. He was waiting in line at Starbucks, his body still adjusting from the sudden change of temperature. It was cold outside, the wind biting at his cheeks and the tip of his ears the faster he had walked. Inside, it was nice and cozy, the warm colours and atmosphere of the shop helping him unfreeze.
A tall French Roast coffee, two sugars, one milk. Kyungsoo smiled appreciatively as he took a sip of his drink, and almost spilled it back into his cup when he saw a mop of familiar black hair sitting outside the Starbucks.
As he often did things, Kyungsoo stepped outside without thinking, coffee in hand. Jongin sat on the bench by the door, his lean structure framed by a large orange coat. He was leaning his head back on the large window, the top of his hair smushed against it, with his eyes closed and earbuds firmly tucked into his ears. His face looked grey under the cloudy sky but serene, no lines cracking his impossibly clear skin and Kyungsoo again wondered if students were allowed to look be so handsome? (Seriously. His generation was not nearly as good-looking.)
Jongin was a lot less intimidating when he actually looked young (and less like he'd stepped out of an issue of Asgardian Weekly.)
He was staring at his student again.
Kyungsoo cleared his throat and lightly tapped Jongin's shoulder. The younger cracked an eye open, automatically removing an earphone. He stared at him hard, more surprised than irritated that someone had disturbed his peace.
"Hi," Kyungsoo managed meekly. He predictably didn't say anything. "Mind if I join you?"
Jongin nodded. Kyungsoo didn't know if that meant yes, I mind or no, I don't mind (because often people confused the proper conventions of answering this question, which then often led to misunderstandings).
He took a few steps back just to be safe, but Jongin didn't stop him. Kyungsoo grudgingly sat down anyway because he wanted to talk to the kid (but not hang out even though they are in a totally un-school-like setting) and satisfy a little bit his curiosity as to why he didn't hand in his reports. Maybe it was his way of rebelling, of sticking it to the man or some jazz―he at least wanted Jongin to tell him.
Jongin looked like he wanted to sigh when Kyungsoo sat next to him, cupping his warm drink in his lap. It was silent between them, a long awkward silence in which Kyungsoo sat looking at everything but Jongin until he decides he didn't like the silence.
"Why don't you sit inside?"
Jongin took a sharp breath, leaning back against the window again. He closed his eyes and shoved his hands deeper in his pockets.
"Being cold takes all of my focus." Kyungsoo frowned. Jongin could feel his frown so he explained, "It's so cold I'm only concentrating on the fact that I'm freezing, and that's enough to distract me from my thoughts."
Kyungsoo clucked his tongue and cooed understandingly. "Interesting theory―"
"Fact."
"Uh-huh," he said cheekily, swinging his legs out on the gravel. "And what do you usually think about?"
Jongin turned his head to look at him. "If I had wanted to think about it, I'd be inside."
Where it's warm and air conditioned, Kyungsoo thought, and suddenly he remembered how cold it was and took a sip of his coffee, still envying the customers bathing in warmth as the caffeine worked its way through his system.
Kyungsoo smiled at Jongin; he stared. "All right, fair enough," he conceded. "Can I ask you a question?" He asked instead of letting silence settle between them. "That isn't that one? Or that one," he felt the need to explain, because he was learning that Jongin was a smart-aleck.
Jongin's eyes flickered.
"You're actually debating saying no," Kyungsoo noted. Jongin laughed. It was a nice, clear sound, like a child receiving his Christmas gift. Kyungsoo decided he liked his laugh.
"I'll only allow it because you're the teacher I hate the least."
"Thanks...?" Kyungsoo felt strangely honoured. "I know I've pestered you a lot about your assignments but,"―a pause―"why don't you hand them in? Is there a problem I'm not aware of...?"
Jongin was characteristically silent. He didn't answer. Kyungsoo watched him expectantly, saw his handsome face twitch as he suddenly struggled to find the words that seem to be locked in his chest. Kyungsoo could tell it was question he'd been asked several times before he had asked, and he was still searching for an answer himself. Kyungsoo waited patiently, and Jongin noted how soft-spoken he was rather than aggressive like so many other teachers had been. He took another sharp breath.
"I'm not good," he started. "With words."
"What? Because you don't use them, or...?"
Like a child being wronged, Jongin faced ahead of him, bent on ignoring his teasing teacher now.
Kyungsoo laughed. "Okay, I'm sorry," he said, amused. "But that's why I'm here, Jongin. To help you become better. If everyone were good at it, I'd have nothing to teach."
Jongin seemed to only speak after a beat of silence. His replies were never immediate unless he was saying no. He spoke slowly and with pause, as if he were thinking about the rest of his sentence in the middle of it.
"It's different...when you're expected to excel in everything."
"Excel is a pretty fancy word."
"I don't like talking to you."
Kyungsoo laughed.
"I like that you're talking at all. I hardly get to hear your voice." They were having an actual conversation for once, and Kyungsoo felt unburdened somehow.
But Jongin stopped talking now, eyeing Kyungsoo's profile suspiciously.
"I can help you, you know." Kyungsoo turned to face him. "I don't know if you know this, but I'm pretty amazing with words." As he so brilliantly demonstrated by his speech the other day, which you totally ignored, he thought with a narrow of his eyes. He pointed at his student. "Let me help you. Let me do my job. And bring the class average up. And not fail you."
Jongin sighed heavily, taking his eyes off of Kyungsoo. He nodded.
The teacher once again resisted the urge to coo at him proudly, petting his hair like he wanted to do. Instead he smiled brightly.
"Would you like some coffee?"
( Part Two )
Title: Hot For Teacher
Pairings: Kai/D.O, mentioned!Luhan/Chen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 8,821
Warnings: (Clearly your definition of delinquent differs from mine and I'M SORRY.)
Summary: Sometimes Kyungsoo forgot Jongin was his student...
Author’s Note: Wails, I suck. I have so many things to say, and among those things are I'm sorry. I don't even―I'm not even―I am not in a right state of mind. I've been working on this all Summer and literally four days before final submission, I chANGE THE WHOLE STORY, GO IN A WHOLE NEW DIRECTION AND I AM SORRY. I don't know how far from the prompt I deviated or why I let this happen. (Jongin is less delinquent and more smart mouth, I suppose. IDK) I hate and love this with a passion as hot as a thousand burning suns (okay, maybe twenty burning suns. It's not terrible, I don't think). THANK YOU, prompter, for sending me such wonderful prompts. Know that I love you a lot. I hope you enjoy this!!! Happy reading!!!
When Kyungsoo had first entered the high school where he was newly hired, he'd been amazed by the grandeur of the campus. It was open and welcoming, the tall white pillars of the building looming over his head like an ancient Greek palace.
"Just our little corner for those eager to learn. Nothing too extraordinary―but don't say that to the architects," Mr Park, the principal, had said to him after he'd given him a quick tour last week. Kyungsoo thought it was pretty extraordinary, what with the impressive murals and always working staff. He could tell that he would like it here. The school specialized in treating students in the skills they wished to improve. Most of the pupil were advanced, mature, always digging for more knowledge, ambitious, adventurous, daring―typical Honour Students―and he could see that in the essays he was currently correcting, given by their last teacher before she went into labour. Kyungsoo was ready to feed their curious minds by being the best English teacher he could be.
"Mr Do!" the principal called as he entered the English Department and made his way to his desk. He had a wide smile plastered to his face, teeth and all, framed by his wild red curls that bounced at the slightest movement. "How are you settling in?"
It was hard not to share Mr Park's enthusiasm about everything. He smiled back. "Just fine, thank you. I'm really happy to be here." It hadn't taken long for Kyungsoo to settle in the rhythmic life of a new teacher, despite the little preparation he'd had.
Mr Park's smile widened. "Well, I'm glad you were able to accept the position on such short notice. Mrs White didn't know she was pregnant until her water broke in class." Mr Park put his weight on one side, taking a moment to chuckle and reminisce. "Hilarious," he exclaimed. Kyungsoo thought that was...traumatizing more than hilarious. He decided he'd never understand the principal's humour. He collected himself before handing him a white manila folder with a list stapled to it. "Here's the curriculum Mrs White left for her special Writer's Craft course."
Kyungsoo thanked him as he took it, skimming over the list and the folder's content. "You know," Mr Park pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I wouldn't worry too much about the students, yet."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well,"―he smacked his lips―"some like to cause trouble. And by some, I really mean Kim Jongin." He reached over to point at the name of the student in question on the list. Kyungsoo gave him a confused look. "He lacks...tact." Mr Park's eyes widened as if he'd found the perfect word to describe the student. "Have you corrected his essay yet?"
The teacher shook his head, a little apprehensive. He knew of Kim Jongin. He was the quiet kid who sat at the back of the class and made it a point to ignore every word that left the teacher's mouth (though he got the sneaking suspicion that he wished to tune out everyone around him). He riffled through the pile of uncorrected assignments until he came across the one written by Kim Jongin. Understanding the Roots of Wildlife Destruction was the title, and when he flipped through it, Mr Park patiently gauging his reaction in front of him, he discovered five pages of whiteness, the sixth the only one with few words.
This dead tree says, "Suck my ass."
The principal broke out into a fit of loud cackles. He threw his head back as he laughed. "Oh. Oh man," he breathed, pretending to wipe away a tear. He might have found it amusing, however Kyungsoo was less than impressed. He was irritated, insulted that a student would use such language and submit it. This wasn't right or formal and a blatant misuse of the language.
There were far better, less vulgar yet still dramatic expressions he could have used.
"And now you know who Jongin is. He's always been this way―curt yet straight to his point."
"What do I do about this?" Kyungsoo asked, but he got the feeling there weren't any disciplinary actions taken against Jongin anymore.
He gave the teacher one last reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Don't dwell too long on him; he refuses to change."
Kyungsoo wasn't having it. He would speak to this student―this Honour Student, no less.
The thing about talking to Kim Jongin was that he was scary. More so as the class was emptying quickly, and it was just the two of them and a few slowpokes left. The difference of authority between them was evident, but Kyungsoo couldn't help but feel small under his student's intense gaze―both physically and figuratively. Kyungsoo looked up and kept looking up, because Jongin was at least half a head taller than him, a full head now that he was leaning against his desk. Kyungsoo rose to his full height to feel less small.
Kyungsoo took a better look at Jongin now that he wasn't sitting in a corner. Tall, dark and handsome were words that described him well, his defined cheekbones and full lips a sight to see. Kyungsoo imagined Jongin didn't have a wide range of emotions, limited between I don't care and I really don't care, but the expression he was sporting now read I don't give a shit. Kyungsoo struggled to not look less confident than he was feeling, what with Jongin's dark eyes boring into his soul.
"Um," he smartly started. He picked up Jongin's assignment. "We need to talk about your essay―or rather the lack thereof." Jongin's expression didn't change. Kyungsoo crossed his arms. "You're not as eloquent in writing as you are in speech. Ha ha..." He laughed nervously. "That was a...That was a joke, because you don't speak much?" Kyungsoo didn't why his voice rose at the end of his sentence, as if he were asking a question. Maybe he was searching for some signal of acknowledgment from the youngster in front of him. He blinked. Jongin stared. "Anyways. You do realize I can't accept this, right? It's inappropriate and doesn't meet any of the requirements set by your previous teacher. And it seems that none of the assignments you've handed in do so. Are you aware that you're failing the class? It's affecting the average but mostly it's affecting yours." Jongin shrugged, clearly not invested in the conversation. Kyungsoo sighed and walked around the desk to sit down. He was frowning at the other essays needing correcting, a little frustrated that he literally could not get a word out of his student.
Jongin stood in front of him a few moments, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, before Kyungsoo realized he was waiting for dismissal. Polite, he thought, but not in writing. "All right, get out of here. I have essays to correct. Honour students, my butt," he muttered the last part, but Jongin had caught it. He displayed the most emotion Kyungsoo had ever seen before exiting: he gave him a small smile.
Another thing about Kim Jongin, Kyungsoo remarked, was that he wasn't stupid. At least he didn't look stupid.
When he was in the library, and Jongin happened to be sitting in the same secluded corner by the counter, he could be seen looking over his notes quite studiously. Sitting comfortably with his leg up, a thick book balanced against his knee and a pen stuck between his teeth, Jongin was the image of a model student hitting the books. He could easily breeze through books varying in size, written by the likes of Shakespeare and Homer, or even sit through complicated, college-level biochemistry manuals, notes strewn across the round table in front of him.
It was one thing to look smart, and an entirely different thing to write down one's thoughts so that their knowledge and understanding could be graded by the teacher and hopefully pull the class average out of the infernal Bs. Kyungsoo would prefer Jongin choose the latter for their next assignment.
"You're staring at me."
The teacher nearly jumped out of his skin. In his surprise, he managed to drop three significantly heavy books on his foot, backing into the return tray behind him, which backed into the bookshelf and made it precariously lean forward. It didn't fall, so Kyungsoo released a relieved breath. He calmed himself down enough to realize this was the first time he'd ever really heard Jongin's voice, and it was nice and deep and suave, like puberty had hit him in the throat quite hard. He would have liked to tell Jongin how nice it was to hear his voice, but Kyungsoo opted to flush and duck his head.
"I w-wasn't." He promptly excused himself, forgetting his books, before words like, wow, I could fall asleep to your voice made it out of his mouth. He had practically ran out of the library.
As Kyungsoo sped-walk back to the Department, he tried to calm himself down again. It was stupid of him to have noticed how close Jongin had been standing next to him (How had he not noticed him stand up and walk towards him?), and he didn't like the way he made him nervous. It was embarrassing, unmanly and totally un-teacher-like of him.
The second time Kyungsoo asked Jongin to stay after class to talk to him about his grade―actually talk to him and not make a total fool of himself trying to be authoritative―Jongin actually responded.
"Whoa. You're actually talking to me," had slipped out of Kyungsoo. He was genuinely surprised. There was a beat of silence before Jongin responded.
"I'm regretting it already..."
Kyungsoo smiled at his student.
"Fascinating?" Jongin asked.
Now he was just making fun of him. "That you're talking to me?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"How a person can simultaneously disregard authority whilst still doing what it is that that authority figure is enforcing?"
Kyungsoo blinked. For a moment, he was filled with pride because that was the longest sentence the kid had ever uttered to him, feeling the strong urge to reach out and pull his cheek, cooing at him like a proud father. He resisted that urge by blinking again, frowning. He was pretty sure he had asked Jongin about the progress of his recent assignment. Seeing as Jongin liked to attend class yet disregard his authority, he decided he'd humour him for now. "Are you talking about yourself?"
"I like to reflect myself in my work."
"That's great, Jongin," Kyungsoo breathed, a strained, stressed smile on his lips. "That's really, really great. I just need you to, you know, do your work and then hand it in so that I can see that." Jongin chewed the inside of his cheek, which was a dead giveaway that no progress had been recorded. Kyungsoo asked again. "How is your short story coming along?"
"It's not," Jongin said truthfully, his expression falling. Kyungsoo nodded thoughtfully.
"Do you need any help?"
"No," he said without missing a beat. Kyungsoo frowned. "I'm working on it. Can I go?"
He dismissed Jongin. There was only so much Kyungsoo could do for a student unwilling to accept his help.
Kyungsoo released a sharp breath, carding his fingers through his hair. He rested his elbow on his desk, his hand still tangled in his dark strands, feeling completely exasperated. It was a late Friday night. Kyungsoo was one of the few teachers from their Department who stayed behind to take care of last-minute correcting, most of them not wanting to drag their work over the weekend. He figured he ought to stay as well to maximize his efficiency as a relatively new teacher. (That and, if he hadn't, he’d have felt unbearably unproductive today despite having finished correcting his students’ essays during lunch, and the guilt of non-productivity would have kept him up all night.)
"UGH," Kyungsoo exclaimed, slamming his arm down on his papers. Lu Han looked up from his desk, Kyungsoo's outburst having garnered his attention. Lu Han blinked over the rim of the coffee mug he was holding up, eyeing the new teacher warily. This wasn't the first time Kyungsoo cried in frustration. He'd been doing it for the past few days and Lu Han was beginning to worry. He'd never bothered asking what was troubling him for so long―Lu Han wasn't exactly the come-talk-to-me-about-your-problems type of guy. It wasn't that he didn't care; he had just always been a quiet, reserved person, preferring not to perturb his peaceful lifestyle with another's issues. As his students would say, he's not about that life.
Lu Han pretended not to have heard, returning his gaze to his own paperwork. Kyungsoo released another solemn breath. He didn't look up, deciding he'd leave Kyungsoo to wallow by himself again.
Yixing didn't have the same idea. The substitute teacher noisily wheeled his chair in front of the sulking teacher's desk, standing up to poke his head over the divider. Lu Han looked up to see his friend's bright face staring down at Kyungsoo with hooded eyes, a creepy smile stretching his lips. "Why the long face, Mr Do?" he drawled almost dreamily. Yixing was of the firm belief that he must embody whatever subject he was teaching whenever he taught it. Today it was psychology. Evaluating the mental processes of a person by asking them what was bothering them fell under that category, he concluded. Lu Han shook his head at his weird friend, looking back down.
Kyungsoo sighed as he looked up at his colleague. "Nothing. Thanks for the concern." He gave him a small smile.
Yixing tucked in his chin, giving him a knowing look. He moved his chair around the divider to sit next to Kyungsoo. He put his hand on his shoulder. If there was one thing he learned in college while he slept through those psychology 101 classes, it was that trust must be established between doctor and patient. "I'm here for you. You can trust me." Lu Han rolled his eyes.
The new teacher laughed nervously before slyly slipping Yixing's hand off of his shoulder. "Thanks. Really, I'm fine."
"Okay, Kyungsoo." He replaced his hand on his shoulder. "But know that we teachers are here to support each other."
"Yixing," Lu Han called from his desk. "Leave the man alone. You're starting to creep me out."
The supply teacher pouted, disappearing behind the divider.
Kyungsoo threw the Chinese teacher an appreciative smile. They both returned to their business before Kyungsoo whirled around to stare at Lu Han, worrying his lip. "Can I ask you for your advice, actually?" It wasn't that he doubted Yixing's intentions, he was just...quirky.
Lu Han resisted the urge to sigh. He put down his mug. "Sure."
The English teacher pulled up a chair in front of Lu Han's desk as if he were a student being scolded. Lu Han suddenly regretted indulging him, vaguely wondering how rude it would be to tell him to take his problem elsewhere. "Say I'm having a trouble with a student―"
"Kim Jongin," Lu Han guessed immediately. Kyungsoo blinked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"Okay, yes. Jongin. How do I deal with him?" Kyungsoo didn't like the word deal. Jongin wasn't a problem that needed to be dealt with; rather he didn't know how to approach him. "How do I help him?"
"Help who?" Mr Park asked as he waltzed into the office. He was smiling as he made his way to the coffee machine. Kyungsoo didn't know why he choose to hang out in their Department instead of the Teacher's Lounge. It made him wonder how busy he really was as principal if he often found time to pay them a visit. Mr Park turned to face them, coffee mug at his lips.
It was Yixing who answered him. "Kim Jongin."
Mr Park raised an eyebrow. He had heard the teacher but not seen him. "I'm behind here," he announced, his hand shooting up from behind the divider. The principal nodded. "Is there something wrong with Kim Jongin?"
"Nothing more than usual, I don't think," Lu Han answered. He shrugged.
"Has he submitted another essay?" Mr Park's eyes gleamed with amusement.
"No, that's the problem. He hasn't been graded all term."
"Talk to him," Lu Han advised.
"I tried. He didn't say much about it."
"Fight him." They looked at their principal. "He used to be quite the fighter." He took a sip of coffee.
Easy for you to say, Kyungsoo thought, sinking down into his seat. Mr Park was a former mixed martial arts athlete whose lean structure and height add to the fact that he was still completely intimidating when he wanted to be. Kyungsoo was a small, frail man with questionable fashion taste who was as intimidating as a tiny cat. He clawed the air cutely to support his thought. But he couldn't very well fight his student.
Lu Han watched him and seemed to grow irritated. "Don't suggest something so stupid." The principal's smile only widened. “And stop considering it.”
"Well, since you're so bent on helping him,"-he turned to Kyungsoo―"maybe you need to sit him down and―I don't mean force, but force him to understand his situation. You know, that he's failing." Another sip.
Kyungsoo frowned. "Lu Han made the suggestion. I tried."
"Inspire him to better himself today, for a better tomorrow," Yixing sleepily said from his hiding place. There was a silence that followed his words as the others registered them.
Kyungsoo thought about it. Could he inspire his student to be a better student? He supposed he could try it.
Luhan was the first to speak. "By God, I think that's the smartest thing you've ever said."
Monday arrived. Kyungsoo stood in front of his Writer's Craft class a nervous wreck. It was all suddenly daunting to stand before them, ready to inspire a particularly uninspired young lad by covering it up as a lecture. Kyungsoo was never apt at oral presentation, though it was different when he was teaching them about the way of the language. He was usually in his element on any other day, ready to help whatever student because that was what appealed to him as a teacher, as opposed to now where he was quite literally winging it thirty minutes before class. It was different because Writer's Craft demanded individual attention, not all of it all at once.
He swept his eyes across the desks, avoiding the corner from where he could feel Jongin's gaze on him.
"Words," he began. "They're difficult, aren't they? Intimidating, cutting, even when they're not there. I'm talking about the moments you wasted searching for the best comeback to your siblings' insults. That word that escaped you during your presentation that you replaced with 'um' and 'uh'.
Maybe you're not the type of person with those problems, but trust me when I say your vocabulary might be the most lacking―and that includes me.
Now I'm the guy constantly searching to improve my vocabulary, and in this class, that's the person I need you to be. If you're already that person, perfect―that's the person I want you to always be.
But before we get to bettering ourselves, I want to know where we stand as a class. Yes, that's right. A diagnostic evaluation."
The Honour Students didn't whine. Jongin rolled his eyes.
Kyungsoo continued. "I know it's weird to give a diagnostic evaluation after a few assignments but I think it'll help me understand how to go about teaching you guys, seeing as I'm still quite new.
After this, I'm going to ask you guys to write to convey an emotion.
Some of you might have trouble explaining how you feel. Apprehensive. Nervous. Scared. I want you guys to practice with this diagnostic. Write about how you feel right now. Or maybe how you felt yesterday when you fought with your parents. How you felt five years ago on that one day. Choose your moment, write a diary entry and convey an emotion, or even many. Ask yourself this question when you're done: Will a complete stranger be able to understand the feeling?
Leave it on your desk at the end of class. It's fine if you don't finish."
He looked right at Jongin. "Just write the first thing that comes to your mind."
But of course, by the end of class, Jongin's paper was blank.
Embarrassed. Kyungsoo was embarrassed. He had given this whole embarrassing speech about words and how they're not scary and had looked like a total pretentious ass in front of his whole class, in front of the student he'd hoped to inspire only for his efforts to return fruitless. There hadn't even been lead residue or ink marks on the paper to indicate that he had tried to write something down, no dirty eraser bits, either.
They were sitting at a round table in the bustling cafeteria, surrounded by loud students who were ready to stop thinking for a good hour and enjoy a good lunch eating and chattering. Lu Han sat to Kyungsoo's left, leisurely chewing his Caesar salad, working hard to tune out whatever Yixing, who sat to Kyungsoo's right, was saying. He was probably wondering why they were actually eating in the cafeteria when there was a Teacher's Lounge for them, and how they'd talked him into it. "Free tacos," Yixing had answered when he had asked. Yixing was substituting for a first year health class today, and whatever warnings about practising safe sex he had Lu Han absolutely did not want to hear.
The English teacher wasn't paying very much attention either. His thoughts were stuck on one Kim Jongin.
"Ask me how a kid single-handedly brings down the class average to a B minus?" He asked when Yixing took a moment to breathe between information, removing the fork he had been holding from his mouth.
Lu Han shrugged. "You know, this could be bad for your performance review."
Kyungsoo groaned loudly and carefully sprawled himself upon the table surface. The performance review. With his thoughts constantly wrapped around his student, he had completely forgotten about it. Not that he could really do much about it now seeing as the results are based on class average, but a B minus in a school for the intellectually advanced is unacceptable, deplorable, cause for dismissal. Just Jongin.
"Did you know," Yixing started, leaning back into his chair as he fixed his colleagues with a proud look, as if he were about to teach them some Grand Revelation. "That the number one reason for academic failure is not sex?" Both Lu Han and Kyungsoo were looking at him now. "Which is good because chances are, Jongin isn't abstaining from writing because of sex. Which is doubly good because chances are, he won't get AIDs and die."
"You are,"―Lu Han pinched the bridge of his nose, crossing his arms―"almost as stupid as Chanyeol."
"Oh, are you and Mr Park on first name basis, now?" Yixing teased, shielding himself with his arms as his long-time friend threatened to throw his fork at him.
"Shut up."
"Maybe he has a point," Kyungsoo said to no one in particular. Lu Han looked at him like he had grown a second head. "Maybe there's a reason."
It occurred to Kyungsoo that he had never asked Jongin why he never wrote. There could be a reason (―as Yixing so pointedly observed: not sex) that was affecting him. Perhaps a problem he had encountered, a bullying incident, a family matter, or maybe the academic pressure was just getting to him. (He understood how attending a school for the intellectually gifted could be stressful when you're in constant competition with excellent peers.)
Kyungsoo thanked Yixing before excusing himself, taking the rest of his lunch with him.
Lu Han watched him go before turning back to Yixing, who gave him a dimpled grin. "That's twice, now, that I was helpful."
"Nnh." The Chinese teacher made a noise at the back of his throat to show his disagreement as he took a sip of his drink. "I don't count the inspiration thing; it was a total flop."
Kyungsoo fixed the scarf he was wearing so it sat snuggly on his face. He was waiting in line at Starbucks, his body still adjusting from the sudden change of temperature. It was cold outside, the wind biting at his cheeks and the tip of his ears the faster he had walked. Inside, it was nice and cozy, the warm colours and atmosphere of the shop helping him unfreeze.
A tall French Roast coffee, two sugars, one milk. Kyungsoo smiled appreciatively as he took a sip of his drink, and almost spilled it back into his cup when he saw a mop of familiar black hair sitting outside the Starbucks.
As he often did things, Kyungsoo stepped outside without thinking, coffee in hand. Jongin sat on the bench by the door, his lean structure framed by a large orange coat. He was leaning his head back on the large window, the top of his hair smushed against it, with his eyes closed and earbuds firmly tucked into his ears. His face looked grey under the cloudy sky but serene, no lines cracking his impossibly clear skin and Kyungsoo again wondered if students were allowed to look be so handsome? (Seriously. His generation was not nearly as good-looking.)
Jongin was a lot less intimidating when he actually looked young (and less like he'd stepped out of an issue of Asgardian Weekly.)
He was staring at his student again.
Kyungsoo cleared his throat and lightly tapped Jongin's shoulder. The younger cracked an eye open, automatically removing an earphone. He stared at him hard, more surprised than irritated that someone had disturbed his peace.
"Hi," Kyungsoo managed meekly. He predictably didn't say anything. "Mind if I join you?"
Jongin nodded. Kyungsoo didn't know if that meant yes, I mind or no, I don't mind (because often people confused the proper conventions of answering this question, which then often led to misunderstandings).
He took a few steps back just to be safe, but Jongin didn't stop him. Kyungsoo grudgingly sat down anyway because he wanted to talk to the kid (but not hang out even though they are in a totally un-school-like setting) and satisfy a little bit his curiosity as to why he didn't hand in his reports. Maybe it was his way of rebelling, of sticking it to the man or some jazz―he at least wanted Jongin to tell him.
Jongin looked like he wanted to sigh when Kyungsoo sat next to him, cupping his warm drink in his lap. It was silent between them, a long awkward silence in which Kyungsoo sat looking at everything but Jongin until he decides he didn't like the silence.
"Why don't you sit inside?"
Jongin took a sharp breath, leaning back against the window again. He closed his eyes and shoved his hands deeper in his pockets.
"Being cold takes all of my focus." Kyungsoo frowned. Jongin could feel his frown so he explained, "It's so cold I'm only concentrating on the fact that I'm freezing, and that's enough to distract me from my thoughts."
Kyungsoo clucked his tongue and cooed understandingly. "Interesting theory―"
"Fact."
"Uh-huh," he said cheekily, swinging his legs out on the gravel. "And what do you usually think about?"
Jongin turned his head to look at him. "If I had wanted to think about it, I'd be inside."
Where it's warm and air conditioned, Kyungsoo thought, and suddenly he remembered how cold it was and took a sip of his coffee, still envying the customers bathing in warmth as the caffeine worked its way through his system.
Kyungsoo smiled at Jongin; he stared. "All right, fair enough," he conceded. "Can I ask you a question?" He asked instead of letting silence settle between them. "That isn't that one? Or that one," he felt the need to explain, because he was learning that Jongin was a smart-aleck.
Jongin's eyes flickered.
"You're actually debating saying no," Kyungsoo noted. Jongin laughed. It was a nice, clear sound, like a child receiving his Christmas gift. Kyungsoo decided he liked his laugh.
"I'll only allow it because you're the teacher I hate the least."
"Thanks...?" Kyungsoo felt strangely honoured. "I know I've pestered you a lot about your assignments but,"―a pause―"why don't you hand them in? Is there a problem I'm not aware of...?"
Jongin was characteristically silent. He didn't answer. Kyungsoo watched him expectantly, saw his handsome face twitch as he suddenly struggled to find the words that seem to be locked in his chest. Kyungsoo could tell it was question he'd been asked several times before he had asked, and he was still searching for an answer himself. Kyungsoo waited patiently, and Jongin noted how soft-spoken he was rather than aggressive like so many other teachers had been. He took another sharp breath.
"I'm not good," he started. "With words."
"What? Because you don't use them, or...?"
Like a child being wronged, Jongin faced ahead of him, bent on ignoring his teasing teacher now.
Kyungsoo laughed. "Okay, I'm sorry," he said, amused. "But that's why I'm here, Jongin. To help you become better. If everyone were good at it, I'd have nothing to teach."
Jongin seemed to only speak after a beat of silence. His replies were never immediate unless he was saying no. He spoke slowly and with pause, as if he were thinking about the rest of his sentence in the middle of it.
"It's different...when you're expected to excel in everything."
"Excel is a pretty fancy word."
"I don't like talking to you."
Kyungsoo laughed.
"I like that you're talking at all. I hardly get to hear your voice." They were having an actual conversation for once, and Kyungsoo felt unburdened somehow.
But Jongin stopped talking now, eyeing Kyungsoo's profile suspiciously.
"I can help you, you know." Kyungsoo turned to face him. "I don't know if you know this, but I'm pretty amazing with words." As he so brilliantly demonstrated by his speech the other day, which you totally ignored, he thought with a narrow of his eyes. He pointed at his student. "Let me help you. Let me do my job. And bring the class average up. And not fail you."
Jongin sighed heavily, taking his eyes off of Kyungsoo. He nodded.
The teacher once again resisted the urge to coo at him proudly, petting his hair like he wanted to do. Instead he smiled brightly.
"Would you like some coffee?"
( Part Two )