(for joondaes) Hot For Teacher - Part 2 of 2

[parkourdeer]

For: joondaes
Title: Hot For Teacher



Kyungsoo had found it cute when Jongin, who admittedly didn't like drinking coffee, made face and had tried his hand at a Café Americano.

Jongin hadn't said much, but his face had.

So that was $1.40 wasted and another $1.40 when he'd given up on the bitter coffee and opted for a classic Hot Chocolate, drinking with his arms crossed like he'd just lost a major bet.

The second time they found themselves at Starbucks, he decided he'd order a tall, hot White Chocolate Mocha for Jongin, which he had been adamant about paying for. (But of course, not in words.)

They sat on the dewy grass of the park in front of the coffee shop, sitting under the scarce shade of a balding tree, staring at the beige blend.

"Try it."

"No."

"But you already bought it."

Jongin grimaced. He picked up the drink, throwing Kyungsoo a cold stare. I'd better like it, it had said.

"So," Kyungsoo watched Jongin take a sip and smirked when the kid's face lit up. He was amused at how quickly he had taken a liking to the drink. "What helps you concentrate?"

Jongin leaned back into his chair, still sipping, his gaze on his teacher. When he finally found the will to stop drinking (it was just so good), he asked, "When I do what?"

"Just in general."

"Different things," he paused, "for different activities."

"Like?"

Jongin looked past Kyungsoo, right past his left ear, in deep thought. "When I dance―"

"You dance?" It was through these sit-downs that Kyungsoo learned the little things about his taciturn student, the little things that gave him personality behind that cold exterior.

"Yeah." He shifted in his seat. "I concentrate by just getting the feel of the music, retracing the steps of a routine in my head before giving it a try."

Kyungsoo tried to imagine Jongin standing in a mirrored studio, his eyes closed and face serene much like it had been the other day, swaying from side-to-side as he felt the music.

"Okay. What about when you write?" He took a sip of his French Roast―which Jongin had paid for, he reminded himself.

Jongin shook his head. "Silence."

The teacher scrunched up his nose. It was the complete opposite for him. He needed noise. Whether it was the quiet din of Starbucks' customers chatting amongst themselves or his stereo blasting John Legend, he better concentrated when he had to force his inner voice to be louder than the noise around him.

"You're judging me."

"No, I'm trying to understand you."

Jongin rolled his eyes. "Old people."

"I am not old!" He sputtered quietly. "Twenty six is not old.

"Have you ever tried not talking? Or sitting in silence?" Jongin leaned forward, as if he were sharing a secret with Kyungsoo. "You start noticing things."

He leaned back on his hands, silently sweeping his eyes on the hilly area of the park. Kyungsoo did the same. He supposed if he took the time to stop thinking, to stop hearing his own voice, he could actually appreciate what was around him. It was in seeing the world that he could better describe it when he wrote.

"Yeah." He bumped their knees, getting his student's attention. "It's not so bad when the company's nice."
Jongin looked away.

"Why are we here?"

Kyungsoo had dragged Jongin across town to a questionable venue harbouring questionable people in a questionable neighbourhood. The club sign was so worn-out, Jongin had a hard time deciphering the word MANSION. It was a small, dark place at the corner of a dimly lit street. Jongin gave the building a stern look.

"Because, Kim Jongin," Kyungsoo began his explanation wisely. "The first step to becoming a better writer is to get over yourself, and realize that not only are you a shitty writer, but so is everyone else."

Jongin turned to face Kyungsoo. "Okay, but why are we here?" He figured he'd humour his teacher and learn what big lesson he had up his sleeve. (This was mostly because there were already too far from where he lived, and getting home by bus would take a long, unwanted hour. Had he known he'd have been dragged to a shoddy location, he wouldn't have agreed to give his number to his overly excited teacher with a flyer in his hand.)

"A great man whose works I've never read once said, 'All first drafts of anything are shit'." Kyungsoo turned to face Jongin, a wide grin pulling at his lips. "And I will prove that to you...sort of." He clucked his tongue. "Also, I want to know what inspires you."

"Couldn't you have asked?"

"What, and give up the opportunity of introducing you to atrocious poetry?" Kyungsoo looked at him with mock incredulity. Jongin rolled his eyes.

After much protest on Jongin's part, they finally made their way inside, in the midst of the spectators snapping their fingers. They sat in the farthest corner, which wasn't very far from the small dais as the place was very narrow.

"Thank you," a tall man spoke into the microphone, then took a seat, his gruff voice bouncing off the walls. "Woe is me, at this time of the night," he started. Jongin scowled.

They sat through three poems, and Kyungsoo watched Jongin. He wanted to laugh at how offended Jongin looked as the same man performed between the snap-applause, particularly when his eyes darkened at the use of the slang word clutch.

As the current performer was being replaced by a new one, Jongin decided he'd had enough.

"Okay," he strained. "I get it. I'm not the shittiest writer." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, turning to face Kyungsoo with an almost pained expression. "You didn't have to torture me to make your point."

Kyungsoo laughed. They didn't have to come to the poetry reading, but he had spent days imagining Jongin's reaction to the poems, and nothing beats the actual one.

The microphone screeched; the next reader was ready to perform, guitar in hand.

"Can we please leave before this one brings shame to the iambic pentameter?"

"What?" Jongin asked after a long stretch of silence. They had left the establishment as per the student's request, Kyungsoo smirking as he sent him sidelong glances.

"Nothing. I just find you funny," Kyungsoo replied innocently, unable to hide his amusement. "How did you find the poems?"

"Soul-crushing."

The teacher smiled. "But there was content."

"Nothing tangible." Jongin sighed. "Are you attacking me?"

Kyungsoo stared ahead. He hadn't meant to target or make fun of him. "No...Are you planning on submitting the next assignment?"

"I dunno." He shrugged. "What do you put in an essay?"

"Jongin, please tell me you're joking."

"I know the elements," he defended. "But how do people decide on content? How can they say 'and through this, the author is trying to demonstrate...'?" Jongin looked like he wanted to say more, but decided against it.

"You worry too much," Kyungsoo said after a moment. "It's not about the author's message; it's about how you interpret it, and how well you can support your findings."

"I think writing it down is my biggest problem."

"Practice makes perfect. You have to write. I want to know what you're thinking. You learn a lot about people through what they write."
Jongin stopped and faced Kyungsoo, his voice grave. "Are you trying to get to know me, Mr Do?"

Kyungsoo stared up at Jongin, suddenly feeling flustered by his question, by the way his voice dropped and his eyes held his gaze.

He didn't have to say anything. Both turned their heads when they heard a husky voice call Jongin's name.

"Who is that?" Kyungsoo whispered as the young guy separated himself from a group of teenagers, glad for the distraction.

"Minseok," Jongin answered. "From the studio."

"Hey," Minseok said as he approached them. He was taller than Kyungsoo but not by much, and had spiky brown hair. His face was mostly friendly and he looked young, but still very handsome.

They exchanged greetings, Kyungsoo staying resolutely quiet as they did while trying not to ooze awkwardness.

"Hey, Jongin. Are you coming?" One of the guys a few meters away shouted before Minseok could say anything else. He rolled his eyes.

"Where are you going?" Jongin asked after a pause.

"Bowling," his friend answer, gesturing to the boys behind him, his faux leather jacket loosely sliding on his shoulders. His eyes glinted mischievously, which made Kyungsoo feel uneasy. "Wanna come? You can come too...?"

"Kyung―soo," he hesitated to say, because it was weird introducing himself as Mr Do. He lifted his shoulders in an attempt to bury his face in his large scarf.

"Minseok." He smiled widely, pointing at himself. Kyungsoo nodded.

Jongin was amused by his teacher's apparent discomfort. He pursed his lips. "I can't. I'm walking Kyungsoo home." He gestured to the man with his chin, a small grin on his face. Kyungsoo's own lips thinned into a tight smile. If Yixing were here, he'd have teased him for being on first-name basis with his student.

"Excuse you?" Kyungsoo whispered pointedly. "What makes you think that I need a chaperone?"

Jongin didn't look at him when he said, "You don't exactly scream masculinity." Kyungsoo blinked. He was subsequently offended that this child, Kim Jongin, would question his manliness and dare to imply that his innocent appearance meant he couldn't bring himself home. But before he could protest, Jongin lightly tapped Minseok's shoulder, who grinned throughout their conversation. "Later." He started walking away.

Kyungsoo watched him, turned to slightly bow at friend, then hurriedly caught up to Jongin's wide strides.

"I'll have you know that a teacher escorting his student home or vice-versa is extremely inappropriate behavior―"

"Do you live this way?" Jongin interrupted. Kyungsoo pulled the sleeve of his jacket and led him across the street, toward the bridge back to Centertown. He raised his arm in that direction as if to say this way. He continued as if he Jongin hadn't interjected.

"―And could get said teacher in a lot of trouble."

"What if I had been in danger?"

"You're not."

"You'd be responsible of me."

"But you're not in danger, and I'm not responsible."

"Kyungsoo―"

"― that's Mr Do―"

"―I don't care." He grinned down at him, and that was the end of that argument.

Jongin picked up the conversation before his friends had appeared. "I don't see you making an effort to befriend every one of your students."

"I'm your teacher, Jongin," he reminded him. "And you're a very interesting student."

"That's a boring answer," Jongin deadpanned.

"Oh, excuse me. Let me write an essay on your intrigue and get back to you."

"Thesis: Kim Jongin often challenges my mental capacities and that makes him awesome."

"That's a terrible thesis." Kyungsoo eyed Jongin, amused. "And it's completely untrue."

"On my desk by Monday."

Kyungsoo smiled.

They arrived in front of Kyungsoo's shabby apartment building, idling by the gate.

"Thanks." Kyungsoo's voiced was muffled by his scarf.  "For entertaining me tonight."

Jongin lifted an eyebrow. "I thought you were trying to teach me a lesson."

"That too." He grinned.

Jongin laughed, a soft clear sound. "See you Monday, then."

"Mmh-hmm," was all Kyungsoo could hum as his eyes followed Jongin's lips stretch into that crooked grin of his. It was a suddenly too warm and Jongin was standing too close. He didn't leave right away. He slightly swayed forward, Kyungsoo reflexively taking a few steps back until his back met the green fence. He shyly looked up into the taller boy's brown eyes that seemed closer than they were a second ago, and thought Ohmygodohmygodohmygod until he felt slight pressure against his cheek, after which his thoughts blanked. He opened his eyes to see a grinning Jongin.

"Good night, Mr Do." A pause, then he slowly pulled away and walked down the street. Kyungsoo stared after Jongin's retreating figure, his eyes opened so wide, they took up half of his face. When Jongin rounded the corner, Kyungsoo groaned, throwing his head back to rest on the gate. He brought a hand to his cheek where Jongin had pecked him, heat rising on his face. Kyungsoo hadn't expected it, but he had been waiting for something when he had closed his eyes. He cursed himself for wanting anything more, for wanting anything at all from his student, and scolded himself for his inappropriate behavior.

Kyungsoo was trying really hard to not think.

But thinking about not thinking reminded him of one Kim Jongin, who particularly liked not thinking, and he had to remind himself to not think about Jongin.

But thinking about not thinking about Jongin only made him think of Jongin and how he'd wanted to kiss him the other day―something else he shouldn't be thinking about.

But fishing for another thought brought him to the performance reviews that were coming up, which made him think of Jongin because it was his fault he was worried about them to begin with, and his inability to help him produce an essay made him not want to think about the reviews, or Jongin, or anything.

And in the midst of all this not-thinking, Kyungsoo felt like a seventeen-year old girl trying to come to terms with her emotions.

He groaned and laid his head on his desk. Lu Han wasn't here to ignore his woeful cry and be forced to counsel him, but Yixing was.

The substitute teacher perched non-prescription glasses low on his nose, looking down at Kyungsoo over the lens where he was standing by the coffee machine. He thought he was geographically well positioned to fix him with a wise stare. (He was teaching Year 1 Geography Class today.)  "Where's your head, Mr Do?" He drawled. "Is it perhaps a little north-east in the mountains, up in the clouds where Mr Byun's grandmother resides?"

Kyungsoo blinked at his colleague. Why was he so weird? "No."

"Alas, mine either." Yixing sighed, then he smiled, dimple and all. "Literally, it's not, anyway." Kyungsoo stared at the strange man as he took a seat by his desk. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just...thinking."

"About Jongin?"

"Why would I be thinking about Jongin?"

"Remember: It's not the destination that matters, but the journey." He put a reassuring hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder. "You may feel like giving up on him, but I don't think that's what your heart wants."

"Don't bring my heart into this―"

"―And you have to listen to your heart, Mr Do! Because wherever your heart takes you, that's where you're meant to be."

"O...kay." Kyungsoo slipped Yixing's hand off of his shoulder. "Motivational speech?"

"I attended a seminar yesterday." His eyes twinkled excitedly. "Are you motivated?"

"Sure," he said. "I have to go."

"Go forth, my friend."

Yixing smiled as he watched Kyungsoo leave. "Aw, man. Lu Han's not gonna believe that I was helpful again."

Wherever your heart takes you, that's where you're meant to be, rang Yixing words.

Kyungsoo didn't like to think that his heart thought he was meant to be in front of Kim Jongin. He tried hard not to be awkward, he did, and he seemed to be the only one feeling it. Jongin was staring at him much like the first time he'd pulled him aside after class (but this time it had been Jongin who'd asked him to stay), that same soul-baring gaze, and he seemed completely relaxed―as if he weren't still failing his classes either.

"Laconic," is how Kyungsoo broke the silence.

"What?"

"Laconic..." Like the Spartan general Leonidas. "Come and take them," he had simply told the Persian emperor Xerxes after he'd offered to spare his men if he surrendered. Concise. Straight to the point. Of few words. Tall, dark and handsome. "That's what you are."

Jongin stared.

"Do you know what that means?"

"Yes," he strained.

Silence.

He liked how Jongin didn't bring up the almost-thingy-he-didn't-want-to-think-about, but could do without the awkward. And the Jongin staring at him.

"You wanted to talk," he reminded him.

The student shifted, removing his hands from his pockets. "I want to show you something." He grabbed Kyungsoo's hand without warning and pulled him out of class. Kyungsoo trudged a little bit behind. His hand fit nicely in Jongin's slightly larger one, he noticed.

The warmth left his hand suddenly, Jongin bringing his own back to his side to absently rub it against his thigh.

Kyungsoo looked away. "You wanted to show me the library?"

"My favourite spot." Jongin walked to the table by the counter, where Jongin usually sat. "This is where I was when you were stalking me."

"I was not―" He turned around to face Jongin. He was smirking at him. Kyungsoo grimaced. "Whatever."

Jongin leaned against the round table. "I like this corner because I can see every section of the library."

Kyungsoo leaned by Jongin. The library that had many times been rearranged by the architects for maximum aestheticism and practicality laid open to them. The building was white, but everything in it was a different shade of brown, yellow and orange, as if someone had decided that those were the colours of studying.

"It's a conglomerate of books and genres."

"I," Kyungsoo looked at him with mock seriousness. "Am so impressed right now."

Jongin rolled his eyes.

"I know the words; I can't write them."

"Why not?"

"It's so much harder"―he paused to think―"to make sense of a thought and write it down. So I've stopped trying."

"I don't believe you have," Kyungsoo spoke softly. Lately, he'd seen Jongin furiously scratch away at a notebook, writing and tearing lined paper. It was progress, Kyungsoo thought.

Jongin didn't respond. He stared at Kyungsoo, who was sitting so close, their shoulders grazed. He seemed relaxed in the silence he otherwise disliked, until he started humming. Jongin smiled.

"A very persistent teacher makes it hard not to make an effort."

"He must be a wonderful"―Kyungsoo turned his head to grin widely at Jongin. His face was doing that thing again, where it was too close to Kyungsoo's and he was leaning forward, and Kyungsoo could even feel Jongin's breath ghost just below his nose―"...guy..."

It should have alarmed him that Jongin was pressing his lips to his. It should have, but he wasn't really thinking, not with Jongin's mouth against his. His alarm was quickly replaced with the desire to press back. Their lips moved in slow strokes, and Kyungsoo was really, really enjoying it because while he had been trying not to fantasize about this moment, he thought about it all the time.

Jongin's hand found the nape of his neck. He pulled him up to deepen the kiss, soliciting a satisfied sound from Kyungsoo he should definitely not be making.

Panic settled into Kyungsoo. He frantically tapped Jongin's hand, like a wrestler asking for a tap-out. They pulled away. They stared. It was silent. Kyungsoo broke it.

"You...we...you..." he smartly whispered. Jongin dropped his hand, backing away from Kyungsoo. He looked like he was trying hard to hide his amusement.

"Kissed," Jongin supplied.

"Kissed me."

"You kissed me back," Jongin reminded him defensively.

Kyungsoo closed his eyes. "But you're my student. I'm your teacher." He was whispering in the empty library, incredulous more than furious.

"Did you hate it?"

"That is so beside the point."

Jongin grinned, then shrugged. "It was just a kiss."

"It was wrong. We're never doing that again."

"So long as I'm your student."

"Yes." Kyungsoo paused, then turned his head to look at Jongin. He had a mischievous glint he'd never seen before, and Kyungsoo had the vague feeling that he'd just agreed to something. He thought, this is it. This is the evil student I'd been warned about at the beginning of term.

Jongin seemed pretty satisfied with himself. "Okay," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I won't tell if you don't."

"I won't."

He turned to face him, smiling. "Good night, Kyungsoo."

"Mr Do," he corrected to his retreating back.

"For now," Jongin replied.

"Sapiosexual."

Kyungsoo turned around to find Jongin smiling down at him. His graduation cap hung precariously on his head, the tassel moved to the left. Kyungsoo shook his head at the thought of Jongin graduating. It had seemed very unlikely at the beginning of the term, what with him failing both English and Writer's Craft. He'd have been short two credits if the student hadn't showed up with a term-worth of assignments for both classes a few weeks ago. "I write them, I just never hand them in," Jongin had explained. "They're not good enough", to which he had smoothly replied "you little shit". They all counted as make-up assignments, but at least he had something to grade. While correcting, Kyungsoo didn't know whether he was impressed or disappointed to know that Jongin was indeed an excellent writer. "You have potential," he'd told him as he'd handed them back, a proud smile on his face. (This time, he'd allowed himself to coo at Jongin, twice as happy because his performance review had come back positive despite the B minus at the time, and only stopped when he'd threatened to kiss him again.)

"What?"

"That's what you are. Do you know what that means?"

Kyungsoo narrowed his eyes. "Is that even a word?"

"Not yet..." he admitted. Jongin stepped towards Kyungsoo. Too close, he noted, but he'd grown used to it. "It means you're attracted to my intelligence."

He eyed Jongin suspiciously. He wasn't sure what attracted him to Jongin. They knew little about each other, but there was something about the way one understood the other without being overwhelming, about the innocence of Jongin and the intelligence he kept all to himself and only slowly revealed.

Kyungsoo scoffed. "Okay, Jongin." He smiled. "Congratulations. You're a graduate."

"Thank you." He bowed his head. "Kyungsoo," he called, and Kyungsoo tried not to sneer now that Jongin thought he could be familiar with him.

"Mr Do," he couldn't help.

Jongin ignored him and handed him a neat folder. "I wrote a final essay."

The Correlation Between the Destruction of Wildlife and What Kim Jongin Will Do to Mr Do Now That He Is No Longer His Student

This dead tree says, "Jongin will suck your ass."