as you get older, you start realizing that you are not always right and thereâs a lot of things you could have handled better and many situations where you could have been kinder and all you can really do is forgive yourself and let your mistakes make you a better person.
fuuuuck i just realized that the future idealized version of myself cant exist without current me being the catalyst for change and doing hard things. has anybody heard about this
(agreeing to be the teaching assistant is the last thing you want in a semester where you're already swamped with work. but, you need a letter of recommendation from the professor and you're out of other options. enter jeonghan, the menace who signs up for the class seemingly on a whim and disrupts your entire routine.)
pairing: master's student!jeonghan x TA!f!reader
genre: university!au, strangers to loveres | fluff, minor angst, attempt at humor, smut
rating: explicit, minors DNI
word count: 19.7k (idk what to say atp)
warnings: mentions of eating and drinking, jeonghan briefly drives a motorcycle, they're both engineering students but i don't claim to know engineering, the angst is minor because there's some miscommunication
smut warnings: lots of kissing, hand job, fingering, slight voyeurism? (jeonghan watches reader finger herself), kind of loser!jeonghan, missionary sex, nothing really crazy all things considered
a/n: this is for the TA collab hosted by the amazing @camandemstudios. those two have been working so hard on this and i can't wait to read all the fics. but go easy on me because i know next to nothing about structural engineering. credit to @caelesjjk for this banner, it's so amazing đ„° also thank you to everyone that helped me brainstorm along the way @ugh-yoongi @haologram @highvern and of course to @wqnwoos for letting me borrow her name.
note 2: this isnât proofread. i had something come up irl and wanted to get it posted, so iâm sorry for any errors! iâll come back to it next week when i have a minute.
(tag list at the end)
Your entire academic (and professional, for that matter) career has been a battle. A fight to be taken seriously. A fight to get the right classes. A fight to make the right connections. A fight for every inch that youâve gotten. There are times that you wonder if itâs all worth it, wonder if anything should be as hard as this. But, all youâve ever wanted was to be an engineer. To be able to leave your mark in some sort of meaningful way, even if thatâs also a little conceited. Itâs all you want and youâre so close to getting some much needed room to breathe.Â
ExceptâŠ
You have to make it through one last semester of this damn Masterâs program. You managed to find a sponsor to allow you to commit to a final semester full time, with only part time research work. Thatâll put you in a good position to carry on for your PhD, with your dissertation topic already picked and funded. Things had been going entirely too smoothly, in hindsight. You should have known. Everything about your application to the upcoming program is perfect. Except for the final recommendation. And, of course, the professor to give that recommendation wonât just give it to you to recognize the years youâve put into this. No. He implies that thereâs something he needs from you.
Nothing really awful, in the grand scheme of things. Not for someone that does want to return as a lecturer at some point down the road. Itâs just that you didnât really want to be forced into a teaching assistant position for Professor Choiâs introductory structural engineering course. Itâs the course that weeds out whoâs actually going to carry on with the civil engineering branch of the Masterâs program from those who may switch out to something that better suits them. Which, again, isnât a huge deal, except that you remember how burnt out the TA looked from when you took the course and itâs the last thing you need during your final semester. Itâs hard to know that some portion of your future hinges on doing this. Itâs also hard to forget another friend of yours admitting Professor Choi had given him a recommendation without the hoops.
Whatever.
What doesnât kill you makes you stronger and all that.Â
So you schedule your regular meetings with the professor, make a separate email folder for all course related communication, jot down the important dates, and figure out which lessons you have to help plan. First up is going to be the introductory class. Professor Choi comes in and introduces himself while you distribute the syllabus, an odd task when everything is available online through the portal, but he likes things in hard copy. Once heâs done his introduction, he leaves the rest of the first class to you, as he had with the TA in your course during your first semester. For a moment, you consider pointing out that this is a Masterâs level course and you donât really need to do the typical introductions. Most of these people have busy lives and, even though theyâll have to work together on projects, can manage without syllabus week. But, Choi is old school and you know it. You also need his letter, so whatâs the point in trying to change his system? Youâre not here to do anything other than fill a spot that he was having trouble filling, get your letter, and go.Â
When you scan the roster before the first day, nobody particularly sticks out. There are a couple of relatively familiar names, though youâre not sure you can place faces to them, but most of the students seem to be in their first semester of the program. It only takes getting to the introductions for someone in the course to stick out, though.
âWell, Iâve always been good at building Legos. I figure, how different can it really be?â one student answers.
It takes everything in you to school your face back into a politely interested expression when the rest of the class bursts out laughing. Your initial reaction had been incredulity. Surely he couldnât be serious. Thereâs no way someone just wandered into this program because he liked building Legos. The laughter from the rest of the class dies down and you keep your attention on him.
âWhy did you really join the program?â you ask. Thatâs what every student was supposed to be sharing. A problem for this student, apparently.
âThat is why I joined,â he says with an infuriating smirk.Â
âWhat did you say your name was?â you ask.
âJeonghan,â he answers without anything else.
You consult the roster in front of you and put a star by his name. This is someone you know youâre going to have to keep an eye on.Â
âDid I get a star already?â he prompts, earning another few chuckles from his classmates.
âSomething like that,â you say and then turn to the person next to him. âAnd why did you join?â
Nothing else grabs your attention during the remainder of the introductions. Several students volunteer what theyâre hoping to get out of the program. One brave student says sheâs heard that Professor Choi is tough before asking for your opinion. Although you give a neutral answer, you make a note to speak to her privately to address her (very valid) concerns.Â
When it comes time for you to return to speaking about the rest of the semester, you expect Jeonghan to interrupt in some way. He gives the impression of someone that likes causing a little bit of chaos or bringing attention to himself. Instead, he simply listens, notes something down occasionally, and gazes at you so intently that you nearly feel yourself flush. It would be a lot easier to ignore him if he didnât look like some kind of model, though. You catch yourself looking at him more than once when other students are sharing answers. His nearly black hair falls in longer layers around his face, not quite reaching his collar in the back. Thereâs something almost delicate about his nose, about all of his face, really. His features are soft in a sort of beautiful way. Itâs only when he catches you looking that you shake any consideration of his features from your mind.Â
Once thereâs only a few minutes left, you dismiss the class with a reminder that your email is beneath Professor Choiâs on the syllabus and youâre always around to help them. This class, you share, can be daunting and youâre here to help them get through it in one piece. That part comes out genuine because you do mean it. None of these students are to blame for the position youâre in. Itâs not their fault that they have a TA that doesnât really want to be in the position. So, youâre not going to make them suffer. Youâre going to help them just as the TA for your class helped you. You make a note to reach out to him and ask for some advice.
Jeonghanâs eyes linger on you as the other students get out of their seats and begin talking, mostly about what theyâre most excited for in the coming semester. You have to break first and look down to collect some papers from the desk. It also helps to remind yourself this is the same student who said he joined the class because he likes Legos. Ridiculous. When you look back up at the class, youâre half expecting to see his attention is still on you. Itâs not. Heâs joined a few classmates and is leaving the room without a backward glance.Â
Legos, you remind yourself, and return to gathering your things.Â
The one good thing about all this is that itâs an evening course, designed for people that have to work during the day. When the class is over, you get to go straight home to eat dinner and meld into the couch with your roommate, who also happens to be your best friend.Â
You: iâm tired, want me to pick up food on the way home?
Bestie boo: i already called in an order from that one place you like so you can pick it up on the way homeÂ
You: wow who are you and what have you done with my best friend?
Bestie boo: i didnât pay for it
You let out a snort because thatâs exactly the friend you know and love. He has to cover up ordering your favorite food from your favorite restaurant, which is sweet, by reminding you heâs still a giant pain in the ass. The gesture is enough for you to ignore it and just let him have this win. Maybe youâre off your game, but youâre a little tired.
âYou should watch where youâre going.âÂ
The comment nearly makes you jump out of your skin. Sure, you scare easily as it is. But itâs worse when the voice comes out of seemingly nowhere. Of course itâs Jeonghan from your class, leaning against the wall just outside the building. His eyes glint at your reaction, like heâs enjoying it. Maybe he is. A second later, he pushes off from the wall to come closer.Â
âAnd you shouldnât scare people like that,â you retort when your heart slows a bit. Heâs looking at you conspiratorially. âDid you have a question from the class?âÂ
âNo,â he answers easily.Â
âSoâŠâ you start.Â
âDo you memorize the faces of all your students so quickly?â he wonders, continuing when you give him an odd look. âOr am I special?âÂ
âYou made an impression,â you say neutrally.
âA positive one?â he presses.
âI didnât say that,â you counter.
âBut, still, you remembered me. Unless you learn all your students' faces before class as TA duties,â he says.
You sigh and decide to give him a partial truth, one thatâs less likely to bite you than admitting his face is one of the only ones you remember. âI havenât been a TA before so I donât have a manual for how Iâm going to approach it.âÂ
âHappy I get to be your first, then,â he says and turns to walk away. He turns back over his shoulder with a wicked smile and calls, âsee you next class!âÂ
Your mind is preoccupied all the way to the restaurant to pick up the food and all the way back to your apartment. Itâs only been one day of class and you can already feel that this student is going to be a menace. Worse than that, he seems like he knows heâs getting under your skin and wants to press it even further. Realistically, you just have to get through any of the classes that you lead. Otherwise, heâll be the professorâs issue.Â
Seungkwan is waiting on the couch, aimlessly scrolling on his phone when you walk into the living room, takeout containers in hand. Itâs relatively familiar, though you know that he also likes to be out whenever he can. A perpetual social butterfly.Â
âToday was already fucking annoying,â you moan when you set the boxes down and flop onto the couch.
Seungkwan gives you a sympathetic look. âAt least youâre one step closer to getting what you need from that idiot.â
Youâre confused for a moment because you hadnât been thinking of Professor Choi at all. âOh, yeah, no. I wasnât talking about Choi.âÂ
âWhat was the issue then?â Seungkwan asks as he leans forward to get his food.
âThereâs this guy in the class and I donât know. I canât figure him out,â you offer. âHeâs so annoying. Like who signs up for a structural engineering class just because he likes building Legos? And that smirk. Ugh. I hate him.â
âSure sounds like it,â Seungkwan quips.Â
âFuck off, I do,â you double down.Â
âWhatâs he look like? Is he cute?â he wonders.
âDoes it matter?â you ask.
âNo. You answered anyway,â Seungkwan says with a grin.
âFine, yes he is attractive because for some reason Iâve been cursed. Why do all you annoying people in my life also have to be hot?â you whine, casting a look at your roommate.
âDid you just call me hot?â he barks through a laugh.Â
âFuck off, just pick a show. Itâs your turn,â you say with a push on his arm.Â
You make it through the first few classes as a TA without much to report. Jeonghan tries your patience, but thereâs not much he can do during the class and he doesnât linger afterwards. Thatâs usually when Professor Choi wants to debrief on the course material and make sure the next class is ready. The class is also just starting to get into the real material and away from the foundational information.Â
But, now the course is well and truly underway, which means you have to announce that youâll be starting to hold your own office hours every week. Of course, Choi also has office hours and students could take advantage of those. Probably would, if not for the fact that he encourages the class to go to you first to try and resolve anything. Something about how heâs very busy and thatâs why he has a TA. Itâs exhausting and just another obstacle in getting what you need.Â
After getting feedback from the class, you decide to set two different times for office hours, one during the late afternoon and one during the early evening to accommodate schedules. A few students show up right at the start of your first office hours session with similar concerns. So, you invite them in and start to work through a few practice problems to illustrate the point that theyâre struggling to understand. Itâs actually surprisingly easy to work in this way. You would never admit it to Professor Choi, but itâs actually kind of enjoyable. Thereâs value in helping someone understand a difficult concept. Itâs also really rewarding to watch the comprehension dawn on the faces around you as each of them seems to grasp what youâre saying.Â
Honestly, you canât imagine your first office hours going any better when youâre already an hour into it and youâve been working with the same three students. Of course, just as theyâre gathering their things to head out, feeling more confident than when they showed up, Jeonghan appears in the doorway. He doesnât even say anything at first, just looks around at the other students. They seem oblivious to whatâs happening around them.
âThanks again,â one student says as heâs standing up.
Another student catches sight of Jeonghan and she smiles. âOh, sorry Jeonghan. We didnât know you were having trouble with any of the concepts or we would have asked you to join us.âÂ
âThatâs fine,â he says easily. âI was busy until just now anyway.âÂ
âDo you all feel confident with the topics? Or would you like to stay and go over something now that Jeonghan is here?â you ask, trying not to appear hopeful. (And failing at that pretty miserably.)
âOh no, weâre definitely set. And we had plans,â the first student says with a look over at Jeonghan.
The three of them exchange goodbyes with Jeonghan and head out, allowing Jeonghan to close the door behind them before plopping into a seat at the table in your office. Heâs directly across from you, which makes it hard to avoid his eyes. When you do meet his eye, though, heâs got a sneaky, all-knowing look on his face. You donât like the loot of it one bit.
âWhatâs with the look?â you ask.
âWhat do you mean?â he retorts quickly.
âYouâre making a face,â you say.
âAre you saying you donât like my face?â Jeonghan asks, pretending to be offended.Â
âWhy are you here, Jeonghan?â you ask to switch tactics.Â
âThese are your office hours. Iâm here to ask questions about the material,â he says.Â
âYou donât need any help with the material so far. Iâve graded your problem sets and the answers have been perfect,â you admit.Â
âImpressive, isnât it?â he muses.Â
âIâm not answering that. It brings me back to my question, though. If you donât need help, why are you here?â you press.
âWhy does it seem like you donât like me?â he asks.
âI donât have any feelings about you either way,â you deflect.
âNow, thatâs not true,â he disagrees.Â
âYouâre determined to get under my skin,â you say, half as a joke.Â
âDetermined to figure you out,â he corrects. âIt doesnât seem like youâre all that excited about being a TA.â
âThatâs because I was forced into it,â you blurt out and immediately clap a hand over your mouth. Thatâs the last thing you meant to say. âI didnât meanâŠâ
âNow weâre getting somewhere in this relationship,â he says, sitting back into his seat with a satisfied smile.Â
You heave another heavy sigh, a common occurrence around this man. âWhy are you so determined to figure me out? Why do you care how I feel about you?â
âBecause everyone seems to like me right off the bat,â he says.Â
âI can see why,â you deadpan.Â
âSo can I stay? Or do you have very important things to do?â he asks.
âItâs my office hours, so Iâm here to help students until the two hours are up,â you admit.
âPerfect.â
The next few times that you hold office hours feature Jeonghan showing up for the second half. It seems deliberate that he doesnât show up right when they start, especially because you always have at least one other student in your office. If thereâs another student there, he joins in to ask questions along with whoever else is there. When itâs just him, his questions are much more personal. Itâs obvious that he wants to know you. Know your likes and dislikes, know the things that make you tick, know who you are when youâre not at school. Seems very convinced that the version of you outside the walls of the engineering building is very different from the one he sees. Jeonghan doesnât seem to realize that heâs slowly getting more and more of a peek into who you really are. Thankfully, he doesnât bring up your slip about being forced into being a TA.Â
It doesnât make it any easier to be around him.
It should. You should be able to get used to his particular brand of torture. Yet, with each new piece of information you learn, you unlock even more questions. Itâs like you canât ever really figure him out. Or maybe that he doesnât want you to. Heâs very careful to give vague answers about the serious things, while he goes on and on about the things that donât matter. Heâll spend a solid five minutes talking about the latest Lego heâs building, but then breeze past the few questions you ask about him personally. It usually includes some sort of quip about how heâs wearing you down and how you clearly want to know him better.Â
âBet you thought you were escaping me today,â a voice says, startling you out of your thoughts.Â
âJesus Christ,â you gasp. Your heart beats a mile a minute as you look up to glare at the intruder.Â
âNo, Yoon Jeonghan. I can see the confusion, though,â he says and you sigh heavily.Â
âOffice hours are almost over,â you point out.Â
âNot for 20 more minutes,â he counters.Â
âRight, but I was in the middle of grading something,â you say, indicating the design plans in front of you. He glances over at them.
âHm,â he says.
âWhat, Jeonghan?â you ask with exasperation.
âJust doesnât look like mine is all,â he says and plops into the chair across from you.
âWell obviously,â you say. âCanât exactly grade your project with you sitting here.âÂ
For some reason, that makes him break out into a wicked grin. âSo you arenât grading my assignment because you were hoping Iâd show up.âÂ
Ah, yes. Now you see your mistake. Should have definitely seen that coming, too. âYouâve come to every other session. I wasnât hoping youâd show up again, but it was a fair assumption that you might.âÂ
âWhatever you need to tell yourself,â he says placatingly.Â
âDâyou have a question?â you ask. The tension headache you associate with Jeonghanâs presence in your life is threatening to make an appearance.Â
âNope,â he says, popping the last syllable.Â
A notification on your phone stops you from responding to him and you unlock it immediately. It seems that Professor Choi needs to give you a stack of assignments and instead of just walking a few doors down the hall, he had to send a message. You drop your phone back on the desk with the message still open and take a calming breath.Â
âEverything good?â Jeonghan asks with more care than youâre used to.
âYeah, Iâll be right back. Have to go pick something up from Professor Choiâs office,â you say, already on your feet and heading towards the door.Â
It only takes a minute or two for you to go and come back. For once, youâre thankful for Jeonghan because it gives you the ready-made excuse that youâre just wrapping up office hours with a student waiting for you to return. He doesnât need to know that student hasnât ever asked you a class related question without another student present. Youâll take the wins where you can get them. The pain in ass in question is still sitting exactly where he was when you left him.Â
He looks up at you as you walk back in, set the folders on the corner of your desk, and sit back down. âYou really hate Professor Choi.âÂ
âI didnât say that,â you counter quickly. Probably too quickly.Â
âYou didnât have to. Sometimes you have a really expressive face,â he comments and looks back down at his phone.Â
âOnly sometimes?â you wonder. Jeonghan looks back up to regard you.
âItâs always expressive, but you work a little harder to control it in class than you do outside of it,â he decides. âYou mentioned something about being forced into this. Why be a TA if you hate it?âÂ
âI donât actually hate being a TA,â you clarify. He seems to accept this at face value. âItâs justâŠI didnâtâŠno. Why am I doing this with you?â
âBecause Iâm asking?â he offers.Â
âI had never considered being a TA. I wasnât opposed to it, I just hadnât really fit it into my schedule. It has been a lot of fun, though,â you say. Itâs the first time youâve noticed how much attention Jeonghan gives you. The way his eyes are on you and it seems like he tunes out any other distractions.Â
âHow did you end up here, then?â he asks. Any teasing or lightness is gone from his tone.Â
âPlease donât make me regret giving you the honest answer,â you say warily. âBut, Iâm applying for my PhD program. I have everything that I needâŠexcept for a final letter of recommendation.â
âOh, youâre joking,â he says and actually does look offended on your behalf. âHeâs making you TA for him in exchange for the letter? Thatâs why you said you were forced into it?â
âYup,â you respond, popping the end of the word like he had done earlier..Â
âWell, thatâs definitely shitty but Iâm still counting myself lucky that you ended up with this class,â he says.
âI canât figure you out,â you admit.Â
âI know.âÂ
That should be annoying, the way he says that he knows you canât figure him out. Itâs like heâs not even trying to hide that heâs making it difficult to get to know him. Yet, heâs not making it a secret that he wants to get to know you better. Thereâs just something about him that prompts you to share things you wouldnât with anyone else. No, thatâs dramatic. Itâs just easier to share with him than it usually is with someone else that you barely know.Â
Despite asking again if Jeonghan has any questions, he insists that heâs fine with just sitting there to keep you company while you have to wait to see if any student comes by in the last minutes of your office hours. For a change, he doesnât ask any personal questions. Doesnât try to press you into admitting things that you usually wouldnât. He just takes out his laptop to make it look like youâre actually helping him in the event that anyone checks in on you.Â
Nobody does. The last few minutes pass quickly with you returning to grading the assignment you had been working on. The two of you gather up your things in relative silence and Jeonghan walks with you out to your car so that you can head home. Youâre expecting something else or something different, but thatâs all there is. Just a walk to your car, a smile with a goodbye, and him heading off in another direction. Itâs somehow the strangest and most normal interaction youâve had with him. It makes you pause to wonder if this is the real version of him. A little quiet, a little reserved. Not being a menace to anything and anyone in his path.
Itâs not until youâre back home, sitting on the couch with a glass of wine while watching some variety show with Seungkwan that you realize it wasnât quite the normal interaction you thought it was.Â
Jeonghan: i appreciated you telling me the truth about the class today
The message lights up your screen and all you can do is stare at it without being able to believe it. How are you getting a message from Jeonghan with his contact information saved? Youâre racking your brain trying to figure out if you gave him your number, or saved his, and just didnât remember.Â
âWhatâs with your face?â Seungkwan asks.
âWow, that was nice,â you retort.
He looks over at your phone where the notification still shows a message from Jeonghan. âFinally gave him your number, huh?â
âNo, I -â you start when another message comes in.
Jeonghan: you left your phone unlocked when you went to Choiâs office and I figured it was time for us to exchange numbers
Seungkwan, now more invested in your messages than in the show in the background, lets out a low whistle of appreciation. âWow, heâs good. I see why you like him.â
âI donât like him, Kwan,â you sigh.
âSure,â he says dismissively.Â
As if to prove something, you make a show of moving your phone over to the end table and turning it over. Seungkwan gives you a Look that plainly says heâs not buying whatever it is youâre trying to sell. Otherwise, he lets you go back to the show that youâre watching without bringing it up again.Â
The text thread with Jeonghan seems to haunt you every time you open your messages, at least until there are enough conversations to push it out of your view. Surprisingly, you donât get any more texts from him when you donât answer. He also doesnât show up to your next office hours, which is a bit odd to you. And you canât vent to Seungkwan about it because heâs still very convinced that itâs only a matter of time before you end up sleeping with Jeonghan. Ridiculous, honestly. Like you would waste your time on someone youâre not even sure you like.Â
That carries you through to your next class. Itâs a slightly more complicated lecture that Choi does every semester to try and scare students off this path. He claims itâs so that everyone knows what they would be getting into. You suspect that itâs his way of reminding everyone just how smart he is. Not exactly the most flattering trait, but you suppose that he probably doesnât care about that. Doesnât need to. Heâs been teaching so long that his job is guaranteed at this point.Â
The good thing, though, about knowing Choi wonât need you during the entirety of the class is that you get to just sit at the back of the class and do some work. It gives you the chance to get through grading some of the assignments for the class without having to take time away from something else. Letâs you get absorbed into that to tune out the grating sound of Choiâs monotonous voice as he tries his best to warn students off the path. Youâre so absorbed that you donât notice the way that Jeonghan periodically glances over his shoulder to where youâre sitting, trying to catch your attention even for a moment.Â
When the class comes to an end, you make your way up to the front as you would any other time. Itâs a little irritating to have to check if thereâs anything Professor Choi needs like youâre his personal assistant, but youâre also resigned. What youâre not prepared for, though, is that he calls Jeonghan up to the front of the room.
âYes, Professor?â he says with so much respect and deference that it almost feels real, if you didnât know how he feels. One of the only personal things you actually know about this mystery of a man..Â
âI really enjoyed your proposal for the final project using Legos,â Choi starts. âEvery few semesters, I get someone that seems to think being good at using plastic building blocks means theyâd make a good engineer. But, youâve actually been doing wonderfully in the class. So, I want you to work with my TA here to refine the idea a little bit. I donât think youâre meeting your full potential with it yet.âÂ
âOh, well Professor ChoiâŠâ you start and he waves a hand.Â
âSurely it isnât a problem to help foster the best student in my class, is it?â he challenges.
âNo, of course not,â you concede.Â
Professor Choi wears a triumphant smile. âGood. Iâll leave the two of you to coordinate your schedules. See you next class, Mr. Yoon.âÂ
The formality of calling students by their family names nearly makes you roll your eyes. Itâs only when you note the glint in Jeonghanâs eyes that you catch yourself. The two of you say your goodbyes and a silence settles in Choiâs absence.
âShould I just stop by your office hours tomorrow?â he asks when itâs clear you arenât going to say anything.Â
âSure, that works,â you say. âYou stop by most of them anyway.âÂ
âDoes it bother you that I do?â he asks, a note of something you canât detect in his tone. Maybe vulnerability.Â
That makes you soften. âNo, of course not.â
âI can back off if itâs making you uncomfortable,â he says with a forced smile. âMaybe it was too much adding my number to your phone.âÂ
âWe can talk about boundaries when I see you during office hours tomorrow,â you joke. At least it seems to bring a real smile back to his face.Â
In a strange turn of events, Jeonghan shows up to your office hours only two minutes after they start. You havenât even gotten yourself fully unpacked because you werenât expecting him to show up at the beginning. Not when he seems to show up in the latter half every other time.Â
The differences continue as you settle into the work the professor assigned the two of you. Jeonghan pulls out his proposal, something you hadnât actually seen yet, and talks you through his ideas. His idea had been to submit a design for a brand new structure built to scale entirely using Legos. Itâs ambitious in a way because the blocks only come in certain shapes and sizes. You canât just cut something down to fit the size that you need. It requires a good amount of forethought. But, for someone like Jeonghan whoâs taken to the course like a fish to water, it doesnât seem like itâs quite enough. You can see why the professor asked you to help him work through it a little bit more. It needs to be fleshed out a little further.Â
As the two of you go back and forth with ideas about how to give it an element that makes it more impressive, youâre stuck by how easy it is to work side-by-side with him. How well the two of you work together. Itâs like every visit before this has been building up to the level of comfort you have now, even if youâre still pretending that you donât really know him. Maybe you donât, though. Itâs not like he ever gives you real answers to your questions.
âWhy Legos?â you ask as the two of you are feeling stuck on where to go to expand on the proposal.Â
âBecause itâs funny to see how annoyed you get when I bring it up, so I figured it would be funny to imagine you grading my final project that has to do with Legos,â he says with that same look.
âBe serious for once, Jeonghan,â you sigh. âIâm trying to help you with this. Itâs the least you could do.âÂ
âSorry,â he says after a moment and shifts in his seat. âItâs, well, itâs just always been the way that I zone out and reset. At first, it was just when I needed a break from dealing with people because I had to focus on the instructions. Then, I started to think about how impressive it was that they were able to form these insane shapes with building blocks. Then, it started to get more elaborate with me testing out what worked and what didnât when I built my own designs.âÂ
Itâs one of the first truly real and truly honest things heâs said to you. Not hiding behind a joke or brushing off an answer. Itâs just him and you feel like that one response helps you know him better than all the hours heâs spent in your office up until that point. It also helps you realize what the proposal was missing in the first place: something personal from him.Â
Ultimately, what is going to make this project stand out is something that makes it personal. A structural engineer doesnât really need to design a building or a bridge or any other structure. They do need to design and analyze any of the support systems, though, which can be a dull job at times. Adding something more human will make it stand out. So, you suggest that Jeonghan take it a step further than just modeling a structural support system from Legos. You suggest that he set it up almost like instructions for an established set. But, instead of simple drawings to make it step by step, you suggest that he include little snippets about his previous experiences with using Legos, how he tests it to make sure he structure will hold, and any calculations he does for load capacity and gravity.Â
Initially, he seems a little unsure. Itâs easy to see that talking about things that are more personal to him, especially for a final project, is uncomfortable. After a lot of reassurances that nobody but you and Professor Choi will see it if he doesnât want them to, he finally agrees that itâs a good idea. It does seem like heâs at least excited about the prospect now, though.Â
While heâs rewriting his proposal to submit to the professor, you get back to what you had planned to do during the first part of your office hours before he showed up: grading assignments. Once again, his isnât on the stack to be graded. Out of habit, you always grade his first and some time when heâs guaranteed to not be around. Itâs oddly comfortable to work like this, grading papers while he types away on his laptop across from you.Â
Once he gets through typing up a new proposal, he asks if you would be willing to read it over. Youâre just about to suggest that he email it to you, when he just hands his laptop over. Seems unconcerned about having you his laptop. Although he watches you carefully as your eyes scan through the words, it feels like his only concern is what you think about it. Which doesnât need to be a concern at all. Itâs perfect, as far as youâre concerned.Â
You tell him as much when you look up with a smile. âI love it.â
âDonât be nice to me now,â he says nervously as you hand the laptop back over.Â
âWhat?â you ask.Â
âYou donât need to spare my feelings now when youâve been ignoring my texts,â he says like heâs trying to protect himself.Â
âSo much to unpack there and weâll return to the texts,â you say, a little exasperated. âBut, Iâm not being nice about the proposal. Itâs perfect and I genuinely canât find a single thing Iâd change. Choiâs going to love it.âÂ
âAh, well, he was right in getting your help. I wouldnât have gotten here on my own,â he admits and it does actually make you smile again.Â
âStill your idea,â you say to encourage him.
âThank you, I appreciate it,â he says and you know itâs the real him for a moment.Â
âOkay, but back to the texting,â you say to shift.
âThe boundaries chat, wonderful,â Jeonghan says, returning to his previous mask of being a menace.Â
âYou really shouldnât be going through a strangerâs phone and adding your number,â you chastise.Â
âWeâre not strangers though, are we?â he challenges. âAnd I didnât go through your phone.â
âNo?â you ask with an eyebrow raised.
âYour phone was still lit up when you left so I called myself quickly and then created a new contact, and then locked your phone and put it back,â he says like itâs the most normal sentence in the world.
âThatâs insane?â you state with a level of shock.
âI really wasnât trying to cross some sort of line,â he admits with a shocking level of sincerity. âI just really like getting to know you and I figured youâd feel weird about giving a student in your class your number, even though youâre still a student as well. So, I just wanted to make it easier. If you donât want me to have it, you can delete it right out of my phone.â
Jeonghan holds his unlocked phone out to you and itâs open to your contact. For some insane reason, you do actually believe what he said. Itâs easy to see how he might want to befriend you and be hesitant on how to do that. He strikes you as the kind of person that can put on a mask of liking to be social, but really would much rather be at home or in a small setting like in your office with you. And you do actually enjoy having him around, even if you keep trying to pretend that heâs basically a stranger to you. Heâs not wrong, either. You would have felt weird about exchanging numbers with him. Youâll never admit that to him.Â
He must see the hesitation on your face because he retracts his hand. Waits for you to say something, though. âI guess itâs not the worst thing that you have my number.âÂ
âThatâs almost a positive,â he jokes. âYou could give a guy false hope that you actually might be starting to like me.â
âOh, now I wouldnât go that far,â you quickly tack on. âWouldnât want you to get a big head.â
âHave you seen the grades Iâm getting? I already know Iâm doing something right,â he brags.Â
âI have seen your grades since Iâm usually the one grading them,â you remind him. âSo, I have to balance it out.â
âYou just wanna break my heart over and over again,â he whines.
âYouâll survive,â you deadpan.Â
Everything seems to carry on as it always does. You have to make sure youâre keeping up with all of your actual classes for your degree. Grade assignments when Professor Choi hands them off to you. Give feedback on the upcoming topics. Most importantly, you find plenty of time to disengage from all the hustle of classes. To enjoy time with friends where you can let your brain just wander onto things that donât matter nearly as much.Â
Even though you donât ever text Jeonghan first, it doesnât seem deterred because you do always answer the messages that he sends to you. Some of them are idle thoughts throughout the day. Others are questions that he wants answers to and seems to think heâs more likely to get them over text than during the hours he spends in your office. Your favorites, though, are when he texts you some wildly out of pocket statement and then gets you to debate him on it because itâs always something completely inane. Something meaningless. It gets you so fired up, though.Â
âHeâs so infuriating,â you complain as you forcely set your phone down on the couch next to you.Â
âIâm guessing weâre talking about Jeonghan,â Seungkwan says from his position on the other end of the couch.
âWhy would you immediately jump to Jeonghan?â you ask.Â
âBestie, we havenât talked about anyone else but Jeonghan all semester,â he says. You fling a pillow at your roommate.
âFirst, youâre being dramatic. And second, yes I talk about him a lot. Heâs infuriating,â you say.
âWhatever you say,â Seungkwan says dismissively.
âI might hate him,â you say.
âThey say hate sex is the best sex,â he says without taking his eyes off his phone.
âAnd they say killing your nosey roommate isnât actually a crime,â you retort.Â
Seungkwan looks up at you and smiles. âLetâs do it baby. I know the law.âÂ
âYouâve been spending too much time around Vernon,â you scoff.Â
âMaybe, but if you kill me, whoâs going to lend their ear to you and listen to your troubles?â he asks.
âVan Gogh,â you answer immediately.
âHeâs dead,â Seungkwan says with an arched eyebrow, carefully avoiding the more obvious retort.
âAnd so are you to me right now,â you say flatly.Â
âTouche,â he says with a light laugh. âWhatâs he done this time thatâs got you all pissy?â
âHeâs spent the last 20 minutes debating with me over whether or not a hotdog is a sandwich,â you say, expecting Seungkwan to think itâs just as ridiculous as you.Â
What youâre not expecting, though you should be, is for him to pick up Jeonghanâs side in the debate and make you rehash everything youâve already talked about. It sounds like such an innocuous topic. Something so outlandish that it could possibly spark debate for more than a few minutes. Yet, here you are, having the same debate all over again. It makes you even more heated despite not having a stake or opinion before Jeonghan asked you. In fact, you had never even considered the question. It was one of the most effective he had posed since he started sending you random questions or opinions like this.Â
Somehow, though, your biggest mistake is telling Jeonghan that your roommate got just as invested as he had about the topic. Worse when you told Jeonghan that Seungkwan was on his side. It made it immediately obvious that you could not ever let those two meet. It would spell an instant demise for any remaining sanity you had left. The realization that they would be instant best friends is terrifying.Â
The debate about whether or not hotdogs are sandwiches lasts all the way until the next day when Jeonghan shows up at your office hours, right at the start. The look on his face tells him that heâs about to carry on the text conversation. But, thankfully, he falls silent when you say that you actually want to get some grading done unless he actually has a question about the course material. It makes him soften, actually, and he agrees that heâll sit at the little table and work on some of his own homework. It doesnât really give the impression that heâs asking you for help, though youâre sure that you could sell it if you needed to.Â
Normally, itâs not all that distracting to have Jeonghan in your space. Probably because heâs there so often that youâre kind of used to him by now. Thatâs a thought you donât allow yourself to dwell on too long. Itâs easier to maintain the idea that you kind of hate him than to consider what your real feelings might be. Yet, those thoughts seem to be swirling in your head just by him existing in the same space as you. If heâs equally affected, then you canât tell. His fingers seem to fly across his keyboard as he works steadily on something.Â
Without warning, his voice interrupts the rhythm you finally find. âCan I ask you a question?â
âYouâve never asked permission before,â you note, but donât look up.
âI wasnât sure if it was an office hours question,â he says with a little hesitation.Â
That does get you to look over at him. âIs it about the course material?â
âNo,â he says.
âShocking,â you sigh. âWell, whatever it is, letâs have it.â
âDo you want to go out and get dinner sometime?â he asks, looking more vulnerable than usual.
Itâs enough to make your heart both constrict and threaten to beat out of your chest. Does he know that youâve been sitting here internally debating what your actual feelings towards him are? Has it been that obvious on your face?Â
âWith you?â you ask to buy yourself time.Â
âThat would be the idea, yes,â he says with a nervous chuckle.
âI donât knowâŠâ you start.
âYou donât know because youâre trying to spare my feelings? Or youâre not sure for some reason?â he asks to clarify.
Thatâs such a crossroads kind of question. Youâre not actually sure what the answer is yourself. All you know is that you feel immediate panic at the thought of one of the professors, especially Professor Choi, seeing you out with him. Itâs not that there are any rules about TAs and students dating. After all, TAs are just students themselves. But, since youâre doing most of the grading, setting some of the assignments, and even leading some of the classes, itâs frowned upon. It could give the student actually in the class some kind of perceived advantage. The thoughts just go rapidly flying through your brain as you look over at Jeonghanâs expectant face.
You decide on some version of the truth: that it doesnât matter what you think, itâs not a good idea for you to blur that line. That if someone from the university saw you out, that it could possibly jeopardize everything youâve spent years working on. That Professor Choi seems even more old school than most of the other professors. Youâve already sacrificed so much. Itâs just not a risk you think you can take.Â
What you donât say: that the question actually confuses you. That you can see yourself saying yes to finally figure out what exactly it is thatâs going on with you and Jeonghan. You wonder what type of place he would pick. Wonder what heâs like when itâs really just the two of you without the risk of someone else butting in. You wonder if maybe heâll answer all those personal questions that heâs so fond of dodging when heâs sitting in your office. It actually makes you wonder if saying yes is worth taking a risk when youâve been so careful with everything in your entire academic career. Itâs the kind of thought that really terrifies you even more. This is a man that you canât even figure out your feelings towards and yet youâre considering taking a massive risk.Â
Itâs one of the most intense office hours you hold and youâre left with more questions than answers.Â
Itâs been another exhausting day between your own classes, research, and doing work as a TA. Sure, there are definite upsides to your schedule. It helps you feel like you have a complete grasp on the material. It also helps you feel like you might be well suited to being a lecturer or even a professor yourself down the line. You also know that youâre giving more to your time as a TA than you need to. Itâs just that you donât want to leave anything to chance. The stronger the recommendation from Choi, the better.Â
When you get to your apartment, Seungkwan is in the kitchen with Vernon and Chan. Which should be a concerning sight, since none of them are exactly great cooks, but youâre too tired to really care. Youâre also kind of starving and whatever theyâre making smells good. Whatâs the worst that could happen? So you call out quick greetings before heading into your room to drop off your things and change. You reemerge to the sounds of them bickering back and forth.
âHey, do you want to try some of what weâre making?â Chan calls.
âSheâs going to say no,â Seungkwan says.
âIâm starving. Iâm down to try whatever it is,â you disagree.Â
âLooks like Chan wins this one,â Vernon teases.Â
A beep from your phone distracts you from engaging in the bickering back and forth. Itâs the last thing youâre expecting, though it shouldnât be. Ever since Jeonghan managed to get your number, and heard your half-hearted chat about boundaries, heâs been bothering you whenever he feels like it.Â
Jeonghan: have you thought about what I asked?
You: no
Jeonghan: donât believe you
You: my answer hasnât changed
Jeonghan: that it's not a good idea?
You: exactly
Jeonghan: thatâs not a no
You: isnât it?
Jeonghan: listen, I respect you and if you tell me no, I wonât ask again
Jeonghan: the only thing Iâm going to ask if you actually think about it before saying no
You: fine
âHello? Are you there?â Seungkwan asks, snapping his fingers in front of your face.Â
âHuh?â you ask.
âOh, sheâs gone girl,â Chan says with a laugh.
âWho were you texting?â Seungkwan asks. He gives you a look that screams heâs about to tease the shit out of you if youâre honest.
âOh, nobody important. Just a friend,â you say dismissively.Â
âAre we calling Jeonghan a friend now?â Seungkwan teases.Â
âIt wasnât Jeonghan,â you say with an eye roll.
âWhoâs Jeonghan?â Vernon asks.
âI think heâs that guy weâve been betting on when sheâs gonna finally give in and sleep with him,â Chan says in an undertone to Vernon.
âIâm not going to sleep withâŠhang on. What the fuck?â you ask, wheeling around on Seungkwan. âHave you been betting on me again?âÂ
âOnly when youâre being an idiot,â Seungkwan says with a shrug.Â
âWait, again?â Vernon asks.
âBro, we have been involved in other bets,â Chan says.
âI need new friends,â you grumble.
From there, it devolves into the usual bickering that you associate with your friend group. Sometimes you wonder how you even got so sucked into this friend group where theyâre two or three years younger than you. Youâre incredibly thankful for them, though, even in moments like this where you want to strangle them.Â
Dinner moves into watching something and playing a game. It always goes the same way. Chan or Vernon take care of picking what to watch since they watch more TV and movies than you and Seungkwan. Conversely, Seungkwan usually picks the game, which is never a good idea because he always picks something that heâs good at. It doesnât really matter to you, at least. Your brain tends to be fried from classes and research and all that. Itâs nice to let them just make the decisions and chime in when you have something to say.
Thankfully, the conversations quickly move past your friends and their complete conviction that you have feelings for Jeonghan to much less serious topics. Sitting there, though, you feel an overwhelming sense of peace even in the chaos. Even when you say that you need new friends, you know that you wouldnât trade these friends for the world.Â
Itâs been just over a week since you promised to give Jeonghanâs question actual thought. Youâre still not entirely sure why you agreed. Itâs not like youâre actually going to say anything other than no. Itâs been a little weird, though, because Jeonghan hasnât brought it up again, either. Itâs like heâs actually been true to his word. He even skipped your office hours when he would usually show up just to bother you and pretend to ask questions.Â
Since your workload has been a little light, you agree to go out for drinks with Seungkwan and some friends. Itâs a much needed night to unwind and just not think about any of the issues that plague you during the week. Itâs a night of ridiculous conversations while you all give each other a hard time about nothing that really matters. Eventually, as is always the way it goes, Seungkwan gets up and kicks off some karaoke. Itâs a blessing and a curse. Heâs got an amazing voice and you feel like you should be paying to hear someone sing that well. But, then he wants other people to join him and none of you are that keen to embarrass yourselves by following him.Â
Casting your eyes around the bar, they land on someone in a leather jacket. As you watch, he shrugs it off and sets it on the back of his chair. Thereâs something compellingly beautiful about him. He runs a hair through his short, perfectly textured black hair and turns his face slightly to the side. Youâre appreciating his profile for a second before it hits you. This isnât some stranger. Itâs Jeonghan. Itâs just that heâs clearly cut his hair and styled it differently. You quickly return your eyes to your group and only can hope that he hasnât noticed you yet. Then again, Seungkwan has been loud and singing before returning to your table. Most people seem to have noticed him. Still, since Jeonghan hasnât texted you or come over to say anything, you figure that maybe he hasnât seen you. No matter what, you down another drink to forget about checking him out.Â
By the time itâs your turn to go up to the bar and get another round of drinks, youâve mostly pushed the thought of Jeonghan out of your mind. With your back to his table, itâs been much easier to act like he doesnât exist. Once youâre at the bar, itâs a little more difficult. Your eyes find his table without even meaning to. His jacket is still there, but heâs not.Â
âLooking for me?â a soft voice asks from just beside you.Â
It makes you jump a little to realize that heâs somehow right next to you. You try your hardest to act like youâre unaffected when you turn to face him. Try to act like you didnât realize he was there. Kind of fail at that, honestly, because youâre one drink past the point of being able to pull it off. âHey, Jeonghan. How long have you been here?â
He smiles that mischievous smile that always makes him look like he knows something that you donât. âI saw you looking over at my table. You knew I was here.â
âI almost donât recognize you with the new haircut and that leather jacket,â you say and only realize your mistake a second too late.Â
âThe leather jacket back at my table?â he asks, raising an eyebrow in challenge. âI saw you checking your phone too.âÂ
âWere you watching me?â you challenge.
âYes,â he admits freely. âYouâre nice to look at.âÂ
âOh, well thatâs notâŠI didnât mean,â you stutter out, saved by the bartender setting a small tray down of drinks for you and your friends.Â
Somehow, though, because life isnât fair (and neither is Seungkwan), your best friend picks that moment to waltz over claiming he wants to help with drinks. What he really seems to want is to introduce himself to Jeonghan. Even goes as far as pretending he hasnât heard Jeonghanâs name before. Seungkwan manages to sell it better too and you think it would probably pass with anyone else that wasnât paying such sharp attention. Itâs only then that you notice Jeonghan doesnât have a drink in hand. Doesnât really seem the slightest bit drunk. Which is fine until Seungkwan manages to make it even worse by inviting Jeonghan and his friends to come join your group.Â
Then, something else thatâs kind of weird happens. Jeonghan, who has spent the entirety of the semester up until about a week ago terrorizing you, barely says anything to you at all. He talks about his favorite artists with Seungkwan. Asks Chan for suggestions on some movies that heâs recently seen. Even laughs about random ass memes with Vernon. His friends, whose names you canât even remember, fit in just as seamlessly. Itâs a littleâŠwell, uncomfortable. Itâs giving you entirely too much time to think and you donât like it.
So, you do the only reasonable thing and you keep getting drinks. Stay just on the right side of drunk so that youâre aware of your surroundings, but not sober. It makes it easier to deal with everything happening around you.
As the night continues on, your merged groups seem to ebb and flow. Some people wander over, drawn in by the fact that it seems like a fun place to be. Other times, some wander off to make new friends or have new conversations. This is especially true of Seungkwan, which youâre used to. Your roommate is one of the most social people that you know. And then people start to make their excuses to leave as it gets later. How you end up outlasting Chan is a mystery, since he seems to have endless energy. Itâs fine, though. You still have your roommate.
Well, until he tells you, without nearly the amount of shame that he should have, that heâs going to be bringing someone home that he got to talking to about karaoke. Itâs a little unlike him, at least until you realize that the person isnât a stranger. Theyâre definitely someone that Seungkwan has talked to before. It still leaves you a little lost on what to do or where to go.
âI never ask you for anything,â Seungkwan pleads. Itâs patently false. Heâs always asking you for things, just never things like this.Â
âI could text Chan or Vernon to see if theyâll let me crash on their couch,â you say, trying to quickly clear the cloudiness from your brain.Â
âDonât they put their phones into DND as soon as they get home?â Seungkwan asks.
âMy only other option is to just go home and put headphones on,â you say.
âYou could come crash at my place. My roommate wonât be back from a trip til tomorrow,â Jeonghan offers.Â
âPerfect! Thank you!â Seungkwan rushes out.
âUm? Seungkwan? You canât just send me to some stranger's house?â you protest.
âHeâs not a stranger. Heâs been in your class all semester and at your office hours nearly every day,â Seungkwan says with an eye roll. Jeonghan looks vindicated hearing this piece of information. âYouâre so dramatic.âÂ
âItâll be fine. I can sleep in his room and you can sleep in mine. Iâll even make sure you have fresh sheets if youâre worried,â he says.Â
This is definitely a bad idea. Even though youâre not drunk, youâre definitely not sober enough to pretend youâre not at least a little bit interested in Jeonghan. Everything about him seems to be a study in contrasts. Confident but not in some toxic masculinity type of way. Chaotic but serious at the same time. Silly to where he would say he joined a class because heâs good at Legos but also genuinely smart. And beautiful in a way so few men seem to be. Heâs just something entirely his own.
You shake your head because you realize youâre spacing out. This is a terrible idea and one you probably wouldnât agree to if you were sober. Itâs not like heâs actually a stranger, though. Jeonghan seems to have realized the conclusion before you open your mouth. âWhatâs the worst that could happen?â
âDangerous question,â Jeonghan says with a glint in his eyes.Â
âI love you,â Seungkwan says and wraps you up in a hug before skipping off.Â
âAre you ready to leave, then?â Jeonghan asks when itâs just the two of you.
âYeah, might as well,â you say. He nods, looking a little unsure for the first time since youâve known him and turns to grab his jacket. Says a quick goodbye to his friends and you try to ignore the looks they cast over at you.Â
âLetâs go,â he says a minute later.
âAre we calling an Uber or something?â you ask.
âIâm sober because I rode my bike here,â he says as he leads the way outside.
âIâm sorry, you rode your what?â you ask, brain slow to catch up with what heâs saying. Itâs then that you notice he didnât just grab his jacket. Heâs got a helmet as well.Â
âBike,â he says and indicates a motorcycle parked outside the bar.Â
That brings you up a little short. Itâs the last thing you would have expected when you thought of this man. Though, maybe it shouldnât have been. After all, you said he was a study in contrasts. Isnât this just another one of those?Â
Somehow, the more you look, the more it seems to suit him. Itâs not some big, clunky bike. Not what you typically think of when you think of a motorcycle. Itâs sharp and beautiful, just like he is, even if you can only admit that in your head. He pulls open a compartment that seems to be under the backseat and hands over a helmet.Â
âPromise I wonât go too fast,â he says with a softer smile than youâve seen on him before. Like heâs actually trying to reassure you.Â
Sure, itâs not the first time youâve been on a bike. Itâs just that of all the ways you could have seen this night ending, this wasnât one of them. At least youâre not feeling too self conscious as you slide onto the bike behind Jeonghan and wrap your arms around his waist. You miss the way his breath stutters as you settle in close to him. Miss the way his heart starts to beat out of his chest because youâre too focused on getting comfortable. Donât even think twice about clinging to his lean frame. But, even with the drinks, itâs hard to ignore the way that your body slots perfectly against his. Or the way your thighs squeeze against his hips. Maybe thereâs a lot more to whatever has been happening than youâve been admitting to yourself.Â
Once you reach Jeonghanâs apartment, he carefully helps you off the bike and then puts a bit of distance between you again. Itâs the first time that you notice he seems nervous, like maybe, you think, he might be reconsidering if this was a good idea. Thereâs not really much you can do about that now. You promised Seungkwan that he could have some privacy in the apartment and youâre already here. It canât possibly be so bad that you really regret coming here. It could even help you sort through the very complicated feelings that are making their presence known.Â
Inside the apartment itâs incredibly cozy. Not at all like you imagine two single guys would live while theyâre in school. Itâs not overly cluttered, but it doesnât feel cold either. Jeonghan disappears as soon as you both have your shoes off, which lets you look around at some of the decorations. He returns with a spare t-shirt and shorts for you to change into. Despite your insistence that itâs fine, he just presses them to you and indicates where the bathroom is for you to change.Â
It feels oddlyâŠcomfortable. Like this isnât the first time youâve seen him outside of class or your office. It also makes you take a little longer to change because you have to process whatever youâre feeling. Since youâre not sure exactly what to do after you change, you peek your head out into the living area. Jeonghan is setting some snacks and water out with the TV on in the background. You take it as a sign that youâre supposed to come out and join him. Momentarily, he disappears into his room and reappears also wearing more comfortable clothes.Â
The confusion only gets even worse from there. Maybe itâs just that Seungkwanâs gotten into your head. Since youâre finally processing that you might be interested in being something a little more with Jeonghan, you expect things to go a certain way. Seungkwan, and your other friends, for that matter, seem to think itâs only a matter of time before you cross over into being more than friends. Subconsciously, your brain must have latched onto that. Even wanted it, a little. But, now youâre here, and Jeonghan doesnât do anything. Heâs not the smooth, confident person that youâve gotten to know over the course of the semester. He doesnât try to pull any moves on you. Just makes sure that youâre comfortable, that you like the snacks, and that you like the show he has on.
It all feels like itâs a little too much and so Jeonghan shows you the way to his bedroom. Your nerves feel frayed because surely, this is the moment where things finally shift. Surely this is when he makes whatever move heâs held off on making up until this point. Quickly, you brush off the need to change the sheets. Itâs not like itâs that big of a deal if something else happens. Without giving your brain a chance to overthink it, you lean in to give him a hug. His whole body tenses for a second and youâre about to pull away, when he finally relaxes and wraps his arms around you.
âYou know, you can just sleep in your own bed,â you offer carefully.
âI donât want you to be uncomfortable,â he says through an emotion that you canât place.Â
âI wonât be. Plus, Iâd hate to force you into your roommateâs bed,â you suggest again, meeting his eye to reinforce the point.
âOh, well, itâsâŠâ he starts, eyes avoiding your gaze.
âReally, Jeonghan, itâs fine. Your bed is big,â you say.
âOkay,â he agrees and walks to the other side of the bed.
Itâs confusing, to say the least. He slides into the opposite side of the bed without meeting your eyes again. Youâre not exactly sure how to give him another sign that you want something else to happen without making it too obvious, especially because itâs not clear if he wants that. The guy constantly in your office was just on the right side of flirty. Always trying to wear you down. This Jeonghan in his apartment is much quieter, more reserved. Like heâs not really sure what happens now that heâs gotten you outside of school like he claims heâs wanted.Â
âDâyou usually sleep with the TV on?â he asks and you pull a face.
âIâm not a psycho,â you snort.Â
âGood to know after I let you into my apartment,â he jokes back and turns on the TV anyway. âIâll set a timer just in case we both fall asleep.âÂ
Confusing. Youâre laying in bed with this person that up until tonight you referred to as basically a stranger and thereâs justâŠnothing happening. The two of you are plenty close enough that you could brush up against him, yet not touching at all. His attention seems to stay forward on the TV. Occasionally, he shifts to get more comfortable, but he doesnât get onto his phone or even really look over at you.Â
Thankfully, the bed is comfortable and without even realizing it, you drift off to sleep laying on your side, facing Jeonghan. The last thing you remember is looking up at his face. Appreciating the cut of his jaw and the way the light from the TV threw his features into contrast. Then nothing but the easiest sleep youâve had after a night of drinking.
In the morning, when itâs too early to wake up after a late night but late enough that the sun seeps through the curtains, you have a momentary panic wondering where you are. Slowly, the night before settles back into your brain and you relax into the bed. Itâs only when you feel a weight around your middle that you wonder if everything is coming back. It is, though. You think back to the last things you remember before falling asleep. Jeonghan was safely on his side of the bed. Now, his arm is draped over your waist and heâs breathing rhythmically like heâs still fast asleep. For once, instead of overthinking it, you just slow your brain back down and drift back into sleep. After all, this is one the right path to what you wanted the night before.Â
The sun is fully up when you wake up again if the light streaming around the curtains is any indication. Thatâs not the only difference, either. Thereâs no weight around your waist and, when you look over your shoulder, the other side of the bed is empty. Which isnât entirely surprising when your phone tells you that itâs nearly noon. Itâs very unlike you to sleep in that late, but it makes sense. Youâre just thankful that Jeonghan insisted on giving you so much water and something to make sure you didnât wake up with a headache. Even though youâre still a little tired, youâre not hungover and that feels like a miracle.Â
But, what do you do now? Nothing happened last night, despite genuinely feeling like Jeonghan had some level of interest in you. But, then he did share the bed with you and curl up to you during the night. Maybe that was his subconscious way of showing what he couldnât say. Youâre out of the bed and nearly out the bedroom door when you hear voices drifting in from somewhere else in the apartment. Voices, plural. One is clearly Jeonghan, but the other sounds female and that stops you in your tracks.Â
The decision is immediate once you hear the second voice laughing at something Jeonghan says. You open your group chat with Seungkwan, Chan, and Vernon to ask if any of them are around to pick you up. Chan is the first, and fastest, to respond, saying to drop your location and heâll be out the door to get you in a minute without any questions asked. Thatâs more than youâre expecting and youâre incredibly thankful. Makes it feel like one weight has been lighted as you quickly and quietly get dressed back into the clothes you wore the night before.Â
Chan texts you to let you know heâs only a few minutes out. Thatâs your queue to actually leave the bedroom and make an appearance out in the rest of the apartment. Jeonghanâs back is to you and it looks like heâs got a cup of coffee next to him. The other person you heard from the bedroom is, in fact, a woman. Sheâs stunning in an effortless way that actually makes your head hurt a little bit. It has absolutely nothing to do with the drinks the night before, either. Her eyes land on you and thereâs a smile you canât place. It could be saying that she knows she won, despite whatever effort you made. Something on her face must tip Jeonghan off because he turns around.
And itâs worse than you thought, immediately. The smile on his face is both welcoming and soft, like heâs actually happy to see you. It only makes the whole thing more confusing. Why is he looking at you like that with one of the most beautiful people sitting across from him?Â
âYouâre awake,â he says, still smiling. âI hope Hana here didnât make too much noise.âÂ
âSorry, babe, I only have one volume setting,â she, Hana, apparently, says with another smile you canât place.Â
âDo you want coffee? Something to eat?â Jeonghan says and starts to get out of his chair.
âNo, no, itâs fine. My friend is almost here to pick me up. Thanks for letting me crash last night,â you say without fully meeting Jeonghanâs eyes. It means you miss the confusion that settles in there.
Without a backward glance, youâre out the door and down the elevator. Itâs only another minute or so before Chan pulls up, shockingly by himself, and smiles softly at you as you get into his car. All he asks is if youâre hungry and then starts navigating to your favorite place to get breakfast food thatâs open at least into the early afternoon. Itâs exactly what you need right now.Â
Chan lets you just be in your head while he drives with music playing softly in the background. It might be a dangerous decision, honestly. All you can think about are reasons for that person, Hana, your brain supplies automatically, to be in Jeonghanâs apartment like that. His roommate wasnât home, to the best of your knowledge, so that means she was there for Jeonghan. Was that his girlfriend? Was that why he was so reluctant to do anything the night before? On some level, you do know thatâs probably not the right answer. The rational part of your brain knows that he wouldnât be so calm if that was his girlfriend. Thereâs no space in your brain for rationality right now, though. So, youâre going to stew in the feelings that she could be dating someone.Â
âDo you wanna talk about whatever happened last night?â Chan asks once youâre sitting opposite of each other in a booth.Â
âNot really,â you say. âNothing happened last night, though. So, you donât have to worry about whoever wins the bet.âÂ
âIâm not worried about some stupid bet. Iâm worried about you,â he says.Â
You shrug. âI think I might actually like him.â
âNo shit,â Chan says with a knowing smile.
âYou didnât let me finish. I think I might like him and I donât think it matters,â you say.
âStart at the beginning and weâll figure this out together.âÂ
Itâs been a week since whatever happened at Jeonghanâs apartment and you havenât spoken a word to him since leaving. Not that he hasnât tried to speak to you. After breakfast with Chan, you realized you had both texts and missed calls from Jeonghan trying to figure out what went wrong. Those stay unanswered. Even if youâre being stupid, you canât really bring yourself to behave in a different way. When the next class comes around, you avoid his eyes as much as possible. The one or two times you do look over at him, he looks incredibly hurt and confused. Itâs funny, you think, how heâs the one thatâs acting put out by this whole situation when youâre the one who had to wake up to some other woman in his apartment without understanding anything.Â
That leads to your first office hours. Thankfully, Jeonghan doesnât show up to those like he normally would. The office feels a lot quieter, even though other students stop by to ask questions. It just all feels very professional and detached. Not comfortable in the way it does when he drops by. Itâs hard to admit, even to yourself, that you had gotten used to having him around. That you even looked forward to it. Somehow, youâre not really sure how, Jeonghan became one of your favorite parts of every day you saw him. That realization makes you want to crawl into your bed and hide forever. No matter what, it doesnât feel like youâll have the option to go back to that. It sucks to realize it just took you too long to come to the very obvious conclusion.Â
Now, at least, itâs the weekend again so you have a short reprieve from all things school related. Well, all things Jeonghan related because you still have your own homework to handle, assignments to grade, and a new week to prepare for. At the very least, you deserve a little bit of a treat. Texting the group chat makes you realize, though, that a lot of your friends seem to have their own things going on.Â
Seungkwan is out spending the day with the same person that he brought home last weekend. They seem like theyâre really enjoying getting to know each other, which youâre rooting for wholeheartedly. You want your roommate and best friend to be happy. Vernon is kind of vague saying that heâs got other plans. With anyone else, you might think that heâs also seeing someone. You just know that he tends to be a little spacy when it comes to sharing plans. Knowing Vernon, heâs probably just off with some friend of his. Once again, Chan comes through and says that he could really use a coffee. Apparently, thereâs some new cafe by him that heâs been wanting to try out. It feels like an excuse because Chan will absolutely go anywhere by himself, but you take it all the same. Heâs actually probably the easiest of your friends to speak to about this, even if heâs younger than you are.Â
One sip into your drink proves that this is the best decision for a Saturday afternoon. Chan chatters away about the things that have been going on in his life. Heâs taking more dance classes in every free moment he has and itâs nice to see the way his face lights up talking about it. He certainly seems happier than any time you see him talking about his actual classes. Think about suggesting he give up one thing to pursue something else that would truly make him happy. His face is different when heâs happy like this. It makes it obvious how strained he feels with everything else.
A laugh pierces through the crowd and it gives you the worst sense of deja vu. Suddenly, youâre back in Jeonghanâs apartment. Which is crazy, right? What are the odds that he and the mystery woman are in this same coffee shop at the same time as you and Chan?
Not impossible, apparently. Well, at least in part. Your eyes cast around for the source of the laugh when they land on the mystery woman sitting with someone else that you donât recognize. Your brain tries to stutter over the name before it forces you to think, Hana. Just as youâre about to look away, her eyes find yours like she could sense someone looking at her. She flashes a smile, which you try to return, before looking back at Chan and whatever story heâs sharing.Â
That should be it. Except, when she appears by your side a moment later, you realize itâs not. She has someone else youâve never seen in tow behind her. Chan, not always as quick on the uptake, looks up at her in confusion.
âHey, I wasnât sure if you remembered meâŠâ she begins and youâre quick to answer.
âI do, yeah. Sorry about the other day,â you say. Chanâs face has a look of dawning comprehension.Â
âNo, no, itâs fine. Iâm sorry if I did something to offend you. I didnât even catch your name,â Hana says and you open your mouth to share before she cuts you off with a wave of her hand. âNo, Jeonghan told me. Heâs done nothing but speak about you for weeks now.â
âAnd I thought I could be annoying,â the mystery person says from behind Hana.
âOh, Iâm so rude. This is my boyfriend, Joshua,â Hana introduces and your brain short circuits. What? Boyfriend?
âAnd Jeonghanâs roommate. I hit traffic coming back last weekend or I wouldâve been there to meet you as well. Make the morning even more awkward,â he jokes.
âIâm sorry,â you say, rapidly trying to make your brain connect. âYou two are dating?â
âYup!â Hana says with a smile and then notices your face. âWait, what did you think? That I was dating Jeonghan?â
âOh, well, I donât know. I just thoughtâŠit was still early-ish in the day andâŠâ you stumble awkwardly.Â
âBabe, no. Jeonghan is very single. I was just early getting there because Joshua hit traffic and I was excited to see him,â she says. âHe will kill me for saying this, but he hasnât talked about anyone but you since the class started.â
âPlease note that I had no part in spilling the beans. I have to live with him,â Joshua jokes.Â
âAnd just so thereâs no more confusion, Iâm one of her closest friends, Chan. Not a boyfriend or date or anything like that,â Chan says.Â
âOh!â Hana says and turns to Joshua. âJeonghan was mentioning him, remember? There was a movie we were supposed to watch.âÂ
âYeah, he did mention that,â Joshua agrees.
âAnyway, Iâm sure you have lots to think about, but Iâm nosy and I figured Iâd say hi. Have a good weekend!â Hana says, full of more energy than anyone should have on the weekend. Joshua gives a smile and follows her out of the shop.
As soon as theyâre out of sight, you drop your head into your hands. All that worrying and you could have just talked to him. Could have avoided this whole idiotic situation.Â
âFeeling kinda dumb right now?â Chan asks. You raise your head to glare at him. âI did say it didnât seem like he was seeing someone.âÂ
âNot the time, Chan,â you say.
âItâs completely the time. Look, yeah you fucked up by not just talking to him. But, you admitted that you liked him. He clearly likes you. Just talk to him. Iâm sure you can fix it,â he says.Â
âI donât know,â you start. âI was such an asshole.âÂ
âI mean, yeah, you kind of were. But, he spent that whole night after Seungkwan invited them over getting to know your friends. Genuinely interested in everything we said. Heâs not doing that just to make more friends. He wants to show you that he can fit into your life without anything really having to change,â Chan reasons and it brings you up short.
âWhen did you get so smart?â you question.
âIâve always been smart, you just treat me like a baby,â he says with an eye roll.
âYou are the baby in this friend group,â you point out.Â
âJust go figure out how to make it up to him,â Chan says.Â
Even though you know it was a terrible miscommunication, youâre not sure how to approach Jeonghan for the rest of the weekend. Youâre also not sure how the conversation will go. So, despite knowing better, you decide to just take your time. Get yourself completely set for the coming week and figure that youâll see Jeonghan during the next class. As much as you want resolution, you donât feel like it would be enough for you to text him and ask to talk. That could also be taken wildly out of context.
So, you prepare for the next class. Make sure you look a little cuter than you normally would for class. Go over what youâre going to say with both Seungkwan and Chan, whoâs gotten incredibly invested in the whole situation. Itâs another class where youâll just be sitting in the back and listening, which might also make it easier. Youâre a little early getting there so that you can set all your things down.Â
But, then the class starts to fill in and you donât see Jeonghan. Professor Choi closes the door, doesnât comment on Jeonghanâs absence, and just starts teaching. Itâs unusual. He normally takes attendance. Instead, he does a head count of the students and gets on with teaching. Everyone else is there. Jeonghan is the only one missing. You figure that maybe he reached out about missing the class. It leaves a weird feeling in your stomach, though, because you wonder if heâs okay. What if something happened to him?Â
At the end of class, you join Choi at the front as you do on every other occasion. The answer comes immediately when Choi looks up at you. âMr. Yoon emailed me before the class to say that he was feeling very sick and wouldnât be able to make it. I assured him you would send over some notes on the subject matter today.âÂ
You try to avoid any relief that you feel at knowing itâs at least nothing that serious. It sucks that heâs sick, but at least he wasnât in an accident or anything. You need to stop going to the worst case scenario, honestly. âOh, sure. Iâm sure heâs already ahead on the material, but Iâll send it over.â
âHeâs such a good student,â Choi agrees. âThank you for helping him with the proposal. Iâm not sure if you read it over, but itâs exactly what I was looking for.â
âI did read it because he wrote it during my office hours. But, it was all him,â you say.Â
Professor Choi looks up at you like he knows thatâs not entirely true. âI can feel your influence on it. In a good way, of course. You have a habit of helping people get to their best results.â
âThank you,â you say earnestly. Itâs the most genuine compliment heâs ever given you. He reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a folder to hand to you. âDid I miss picking up an assignment to grade?â
âNo,â he says with a smile youâre not used to seeing. âThis is your letter for the recommendation packet. I already sent it in, but I thought you might like to see a copy.â
âThank you so much, Professor Choi,â you say with a relieved sigh.Â
âYouâre incredibly bright, probably one of the brightest students Iâve ever taught,â he says and it takes you completely by surprise. âI know itâs probably seemed like Iâve been hard on you because I have been. I knew there was even more potential in you waiting to be coaxed out. I also know I made it much easier on John to ask for a recommendation. But, between you and I, your letter is much more complimentary and personal than his was. I canât wait to see what you accomplish.âÂ
It all suddenly makes sense. Everything that Choi has put you through since asking for his letter. It almost makes you laugh. âIâm sorry for doubting your motives for asking me to TA this class.â
Now, Professor Choi does actually laugh. âOh, no need to apologize for that. Itâs much easier to get the most out of a student when they think they have something to prove.â
âYou may be onto something,â you agree.
âIâll see you next class,â he says and closes up his briefcase to head off.
With that bit of good news, you feel a lot lighter. You almost donât even need to read the letter (though, you definitely will later). Itâs enough to know that your entire future is still open ahead of you. It makes all of the miscommunication with Jeonghan feel incredibly silly. It also makes you feel a little bolder. So, you figure that you still have the location for Jeonghanâs apartment dropped in a group chat. Why not get him some food and medicine to help him feel better? Itâll give you a chance to apologize for how youâve handled everything up until this point.Â
That idea seems a little poorly thought out when you show up at Jeonghanâs apartment with soup and medication. He answers the door, looking completely fine healthwise and confused to see you standing on the other side of the door.Â
âProfessor Choi said you were really sick so I figured Iâd bring some soup to help you feel better,â you offer, holding up the bag to show him.Â
âWhy are you here?â he asks. Thereâs none of the normal warmth.
âI was worried about you,â you admit.
He sighs and leans against the doorframe without letting you in. âI canât do these mind games.âÂ
âIâm sorry,â you say immediately. âI know I messed up really badly. I owe you an apology.âÂ
âYou might as well come in,â Jeonghan says and steps aside. âSoup does also sound good. Itâs cold out.âÂ
âRight, here,â you say and hand it over to him.
âIs there enough for you to eat with me?â he asks and takes the bag. âOh, it looks like it. Wanna join me? And you can try to explain whatâs been going on?âÂ
âSure,â you agree.
Itâs mostly silent as Jeonghan heats up the soup and puts it into two bowls for you to enjoy it with him. He sets the bowls at the kitchen table and also sets some drinks down for you. The two of you take a few sips first before you venture to explain whatâs been going on.
âIâm really sorry, Jeonghan,â you say.
âSo youâve said,â he comments. Heâs not going to make this easy on you.
âThat whole night when I stayed here wasnât exactly what I signed up for,â you admit. He opens his mouth, but you wave him off. âLet me try to get this out. You were so kind and caring to me when you brought me back here. Then, I was kind of expecting something to happen and nothing didâŠâ
âBecause you had been drinking. I wasnât just gonna be like hey, letâs jump into bed when your mind wasnât fully clear,â he says with a scoff.Â
âThatâs fair. I get that,â you acknowledge. âThen, I donât know. I saw Hana sitting out here with you the next day and I just kinda freaked out. I had realized that I might actually like you and hereâs this beautiful person in your apartment for who knows what reason. I worried she was your girlfriend or something.â
He snorts a little derisively at that. âThat would be kinda shitty to share a bed with you and then let you walk out to find me with a girlfriend. Sheâs not, by the way. Sheâs my roommate Joshuaâs girlfriend.â
âYeah, I know. I ran into her and Joshua while I was getting coffee over the weekend,â you admit sheepishly. This seems to surprise him.
âYou met Joshua?â he asks.Â
âThey didnât tell you?â you ask in return and he shakes his head. âProbably because Hana told me that Iâm the only one youâve talked about since starting the class.âÂ
âI wouldnât have even cared if I had an answer to why you started ignoring me,â he says.Â
âI got a bit scared,â you say softly.Â
âThat doesnât mean you shouldnât just speak to me,â he insists.
âI know that. I really am sorry, thatâs all I can say,â you offer.Â
âWell that and you can tell me that you do actually like me. Not that you might like me or something else vague,â he says with a glint to his eyes.Â
âYou areâŠinfuriating,â you say with a laugh. âYouâre beautiful and smart and funny and impossibly kind. You make me want to pull out my hair at least once a dayâŠâ
âDonât do that. You have nice hair,â he interjects.
âBut, yes, Iâm trying not to be scared anymore. So yeah, I do like you,â you say.
âWhat about being the TA for my class?â he asks and you shrug.Â
âThe class will end eventually,â you say.Â
âDoes this count as our first date, then?â he asks like the true demon he is.Â
âOnly if you plan something else for our second date,â you concede.
âDeal,â he agrees.Â
Everything feels a little bit easier after that. A little bit lighter. Like you actually can breathe for the first time all semester. You tell Jeonghan about the letter and he suggests that you read it right then with him. It makes sense, in a way. Working with Jeonghan has brought out exactly the side to you that Choi wanted to see. It feels like this is kind of his win as well, even though he didnât realize it. It also feels a little less overwhelming to read it with him by your side. (Itâs a rave. Way better than anything you could have dared to hope for and better than any other letter written by him that youâve read. Everything feels worth it and like it falls into place.)
Now that the awkwardness is out of the way, Jeonghan shares that he wasnât actually sick, which you already know. Itâs obvious looking at him that he feels fine. It does surprise you a bit that he admits to avoiding you to give himself time to process, though. Then he moves onto talking about Joshua and Hana, grumbling that they hadnât told him about running into you after you relay the entire conversation. Even goes as far as to say that he would have come to class so that you could have figured all of this out. Instead, he admits telling Joshua about the plan to skip. Thatâs why Joshua isnât there, though. He claimed he was going to give Jeonghan his space to work through whatever he was feeling and spend the night at Hanaâs. You make a mental note to thank Joshua for that.Â
âHow early is your day tomorrow? Do you want to stay and watch a movie or something?â he asks a little awkwardly when you finish your soup.
âNot that early,â you answer easily. âA movie sounds good, but can we watch something in your room? I feel like laying in bed and being lazy.â
âOh, uh, sure,â he says.
âWe donât have to,â you say quickly.
âCan I say something thatâs really gonna make me lookâŠnot cool?â he asks.Â
âSure,â you say curiously.
âYou make me a little nervous,â he admits.Â
That completely surprises you. Nothing about Jeonghan really seems anything short of confident in everything that he does. Itâs kind of nice to see him falter. All you do is hold out a hand to him. âItâs okay, thereâs nothing to be nervous about.â
He takes your hand easily and lets you lead him into his own bedroom. Seems very content to let you just set the pace of whatâs happening. So, you settle on top of his covers and he hands you the remote. Itâs nice to get to control whatâs on the TV for a change, even if youâre not really paying much attention to it. Jeonghan is a little stiff against his headboard as you try to settle into his body.Â
âIs it okay if I lean against you like this?â you ask, suddenly worrying this is too much.
âOf course,â he says after a moment.Â
âYou can tell me ifâŠâ you start.
âNo,â he says firmly. âNo, Iâve been thinking about this since the last time I had you in my bed.â
âJust since then?â you tease.
âNo, it was definitely before then, but Iâve already lost a lot of cool points,â he says.
âI donât want to possibly misread the signs, but are you okay withâŠâ you start, once again, before he cuts you off.
âI am fine with absolutely anything you want to give me,â he says and you wish you could see his face. Wonder if heâs blushing.
âAnd if thatâs just a cuddle?â you test.
âFine,â he says.
âOr if itâs a kiss?â you ask and feel the breath he takes. âOr what about if itâs a lot more than a kiss?âÂ
He takes another beat. His voice sounds a bit strained when he speaks. âDefinitely more than just fine.âÂ
Thatâs really all the confirmation that you need. Making sure youâre on the same page is important and getting this kind of consent makes it easier to relax. You settle further back into his chest and pull his arm around you, let one of your own arms drape across his lap. It feels like it might be easier for him to settle that way. So that you canât see his face and he doesnât have to worry about losing any more cool points. Not that those really matter with you anyway. More than anything, itâs entertaining to see the way this constantly confident, perpetual pain in the ass gets so tongue-tied now that heâs getting what he wants.Â
The more time goes by, the more he seems to relax a little more into whatâs happening around him. His fingers absently run along your arm, raising goosebumps in their wake. He leans his head down to meet yours and you could swear his lips press the lightest kiss into your hair. His entire presence is a little overwhelming. And he smells amazing. Itâs such a unique scent that you canât place. Something light, airy, and delicate. Something that seems to perfectly suit him. It might be your new favorite scent.Â
Nothing about the TV show is keeping your attention. It feels like little more than a precursor to what you both know is coming. But, Jeonghan doesnât make the first move beyond the contact his fingers make with your arm. The first actual move seems like it might belong to you, which is actually kind of exciting. Itâs a bit thrilling to know that youâre going to be in charge with this man whoâs done nothing but send every one of your senses into overdrive. Itâs nice to know that he doesnât need to be in control of everything.Â
Almost as if youâre testing the water, you run your hand across his lap, careful to go slowly. He stops breathing for a second as he seems to wait to see what youâll do next. It prompts you to run your hand back and forth a few more times, not bothering to move on from the subtle imprint of his dick through his sweatpants. Everything about him stills: his hand freezes on your arm, he doesnât fidget, and his breathing is incredibly shallow. He starts to get noticeably harder underneath your hand while you keep your eyes trained forward, even though you have no idea whatâs going on in whatever show you picked as background noise. Thereâs something strangely intimate about this in the way it feels a little innocent.Â
Finally, when he starts to moan a little with each motion, you pull your hand away. Delight in the way he actually whimpers at the loss of contact. Itâs time to actually face him so that you can see what youâre doing to him. Repositioning yourself, you see the look on his face. Heâs a little flushed just from the attention and his eyes are wide. Waiting. All heâs doing is waiting to let you set what happens next, like he canât really believe that this is happening after so much time. It is, though.Â
You run a hand through his hair and marvel at how soft it is when it looks perfectly styled. Either his hair just looks like that or heâs got the best products in the world. Neither feels fair when heâs already this stunningly beautiful. Gently, you lean forward to press your lips against his. Let your hand tangle in his hair as you anchor yourself to him. The kiss is at complete odds with you slowly rubbing him through his pants. Thereâs a little bit of desperation and youâre not even sure which of you itâs coming from. All you know for sure is that his lips are so soft that they feel like clouds and he doesnât even fight you for control when you slide your tongue into his mouth. Just meets whatever pace you set. He really is happy with whatever you give him.Â
Your free hand winds down his body and doesnât waste any time slipping into the waistband of his pants. When your hand wraps around his cock, he tries to pull away from the kiss, but you donât let him. The moan that comes from you running your thumb over his tip gets caught up in your lips. You pull your hand out just long enough to spit into your palm and return it to the inside of his pants. Jeonghan does break the kiss when your hand wraps around his cock and strokes the first time, a hiss coming out of his mouth.Â
âAre you still sure youâre okay?â you ask, but itâs almost more of a tease.Â
âFuck,â he hisses out. âPlease donât stop. Please.â
Hearing him nearly begging like that is the sweetest sound youâve ever heard. Never could you have imagined you would have this man like putty beneath your hands. Itâs going to your head a little bit and then it hits you. You wonder if you can make him come just like this. Wonder how that would feel to have that kind of power over him.Â
So, you do the only logical thing, and decide to test it out. You kiss him again, fierce and messy and desperate. Keep a steady rhythm of stroking him. Heâs a squirming, writhing mess under your touch and itâs like he doesnât even remember what to do with his hands. Itâs actually turning you on as well to know that he wants you this bad. That nothing more than your lips and his touch are going to send him over the edge. Itâs obvious when he starts getting close because he works harder to break the kiss. Canât seem to catch his breath. You take a little pity on him and kiss across his jaw. Even pull away to watch him as he squeezes his eyes shut.
âYouâre gonna make me come,â he whimpers.
âSo come,â you direct.
âI canât come in my pants like a fucking teenager,â he protests. âPlease, Iâm beggingâŠâ
âI want you to come for me, Jeonghan. Right now. Exactly like this. Come for me and show me how desperate youâve been to have my hands on your cock,â you instruct.
âFuck,â he draws out. âFuck, I canâtâŠIâm gonnaâŠâ
His release comes almost out of nowhere, so hard and heavy that it coats your hand as you continue to stroke him through the release, coaxing every last bit from him. Once heâs spent, he collapses back against the headboard of the bed and you see any tension drain from his body. You pull your hand from inside his pants and wipe it off on them. Thankfully, he doesnât even seem to protest.Â
While his breathing steadies, you shift and get off of the bed. He slowly opens his eyes and tracks your movement. Only swallows a little hard when you start to undress without taking your eyes off him. Sometimes, this part makes you a little self conscious. Itâs much easier now, though, knowing you had just made Jeonghan come in his pants. Thatâs an ego boost you never expected to get. His breath stutters when you even remove your bra and panties, leaving yourself completely exposed before him. His eyes go somehow even wider when you get back onto the bed and position yourself in front of him. He reaches out to touch you, but you slap his hand away.
âOh, no, no,â you chastise softly. âNo, my little demon, you are going to watch now.â
âWatch?â he asks.Â
âYes, watch,â you confirm and study his face. âDonât you want to watch me get myself off? Donât you want to watch me show you exactly what it is that I like?âÂ
âF-fuck thatâsâŠwow,â he stutters out.Â
You lean back, using one hand behind you on the bed to brace yourself. You spread your legs open to show him the way your pussy already glistens a little. The kissing and the feel of bringing him over the edge like that really turned you on. Itâs a little bit of a first for you. Running a finger up your entrance, you collect some of the wetness there. Do it once more for good measure. And then, still emboldened by whatâs happened so far, you reach forward to hold your finger out to Jeonghan. Let it run along his lip until he takes it into his mouth and tastes you.Â
âFuck, youâre soâŠjust, fuck,â he hisses. âCan IâŠâ
âNo,â you say and cut him off, pulling your finger back.Â
Now that youâve had a taste of him begging for something, you want to drive him to that again. Want to get him so turned on that he canât even see straight. You slowly tease at your entrance and watch the way his eyes track each movement. When you use your free hand to play with one of your nipples, he seems like he canât really figure out where to look. Then, you slide one finger into your pussy and itâs like he canât see to take his eyes off the motion. You moan, even though itâs nowhere near enough of a stretch, and increase the rhythm. Quickly add another finger and start to fuck yourself just the way you like. Just the way you would when you want to draw out your release a little more than using a toy. You slide your free hand down your body and use it to rub small circles on your clit. Somewhere, the thought of Jeonghan watching you becomes a little secondary. Itâs incredibly sexy to know that heâs just watching, but youâre also invested in your own high. You want to do this for yourself as much as to show Jeonghan. Canât possibly realize that Jeonghan is even more turned on knowing that youâre so lost to your own passion.Â
The orgasm washes over you more suddenly than youâre expecting and it takes a moment to catch your breath. It takes another moment to realize that Jeonghan has undressed himself while you were lost in your own world. He isnât touching himself though and you canât figure out if heâs still sensitive or just waiting for your permission. Itâs hard to avoid the realization that every part of him is beautiful. His body is all lean lines, not overly muscular, yet still looks strong. Even his cock is kind of beautiful in a way, which isnât fair. Itâs not surprising, though.Â
âThat was one of the sexiest things Iâve ever seen,â he admits, a little breathless.Â
âDâyou think you can make me come as well?â you tease. âWant to feel my pussy squeeze around you?âÂ
He nods immediately and it makes you laugh a little. âI know I can. I wantâŠâÂ
âTo taste me?â you offer and his eyes go dark with lust.Â
âCan I?â he asks. âCan I actually get a taste? Just your finger wasnât really enough.âÂ
âI want to see what that mouth can do when itâs not talking a mile a minute,â you say. âI hope youâre just as good with your tongue.â
Itâs obvious that this catches him a little off guard that youâre so confident now with him. So easily fall into telling him exactly what you want him to do. But, youâre very curious to see what his skills are like. The two of you reposition so that he can settle between your legs. His eyes find yours, searching, Maybe asking permission. You nod and he uses his fingers to spread your lips open. He licks up your core and mutters a quiet fuck under his breath at your lingering wetness. The breath against your core sends a slight shiver through your body.Â
After all the build up and everything, you donât really have the patience for him to go slow. So, you tangle your hand into his hair and press his head further into your cunt. Force his nose to brush against your clit. Donât really stop to consider if itâs too much for him. His moans into you seem to show that theyâre not, though. Itâs nice to just take what you need and know that heâs enjoying it just as much as you are. When you ask him (read: tell him) to add a finger, he does it without question. For someone that always seems to have a retort for everything, heâs surprisingly quiet now. Nothing piercing the quiet of the room apart from the constant stream of moans from both of you and curses from you as you get closer to your second orgasm.Â
The second one hits a lot harder than the first, a fact that you wouldnât really want to admit to Jeonghan. Itâs too obvious to hide, though. You donât even care. Jeonghanâs tongue is far better than anything you could have dreamed about. Not that you were dreaming about it. (And not that you ever got yourself off in the shower or in your bed, late at night, thinking of the annoying guy who wouldnât ever seem to leave you alone. Absolutely not.) When you open your eyes again, you find Jeonghan looking at you with awe. Thereâs nothing smug about his look. It makes your insides go even a little mushier. Itâs definitely not the time for those kinds of emotions.Â
âWow,â is all Jeonghan says.Â
âYeah,â you agree.Â
âDo you still want toâŠ? I mean, can we stillâŠâ he starts.
âJeonghan, do I make you feel that nervous?â you joke. âYou just ate me out and made me come all over your face.âÂ
He shrugs. âI just donât wanna press my luck.âÂ
âMaybe we just stop here then,â you say with a return shrug. âIâm not sure you want it enough.â
âOh, no, I definitely want it,â he disagrees.
âAre you sure?â you taunt. âSure you can handle it?âÂ
That unleashes a side of Jeonghan you havenât fully seen yet. The next moment, heâs begging you for your pussy. Begging you to show you how much he still wants you. Begging to make up for the fake that he came in his pants just at your touch. Just begging for anything and everything. He even goes as far as to say that heâll do all the work. It shouldnât be working for you. Itâs kind of lame, the way he just canât seem to stop himself from running his mouth. And, unfortunately, itâs working for you. You kiss him just to make him stop.Â
The kiss immediately turns into something desperate, but youâre not sure which one of you takes it there first. Every new bit of him you get only makes you want even more of him. Itâs kind of insane to think you werenât even sure you liked him when itâs been so easy to fall into this. Jeonghan breaks the kiss and reaches over into his nightstand for a condom. Somehow, he manages to get it on in nearly record speed, despite his nerves about everything else. He doesnât waste any time in positioning himself, either. You lie back when he spreads your legs open and seems a little drunk on the sight of you. You tap his side with your foot and he shakes his head clear of whatever he was thinking.Â
Jeonghan lines himself up at your entrance and presses his tip in. You arch your back, moaning at the initial stretch. Itâs immediately better than either of your fingers or his tongue. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in and it makes him snap into you in one swift movement. All you wanted was to be full and you squeeze your walls around him. Direct him to move. The two of you work together to figure out the right pace, knowing that neither of you is likely to last all that long. Youâre both a little sensitive from everything in the lead up to this moment. Still, you revel in the way that Jeonghan rolls his hips into you. Appreciate the way that he nearly pulls all the way out before snapping back into you. Moan into the sloppy kiss when your mouths crash together. Itâs hard to tell where your own whines start and his moans begin. The sounds all kind of blend together into some kind of weird harmony.Â
Where Jeonghan was incredibly vocal when he was begging, he doesnât seem to have a coherent thought to share now. Yet, his eyes never leave you. Like heâs trying to map each part of your body. Itâs too fast for him to learn what you actually like. Thatâs not what you need, not right now. What you need is to have another release, one that comes at the same time as his own. And thatâs exactly what you get when you come hard again just as you feel his thrusts stutter. A moment later, heâs coming into the condom and eventually stilling inside of you.Â
The last thing you want is to feel the loss of him inside of you, but you understand that he has to pull out. His breathing is heavy when he rolls over onto his back. Itâs clear that he doesnât want to get out of bed. That itâs a struggle. But, he gets up to dispose of the condom and you hear water running in the distance. He returns a moment later with a wet cloth and starts gently washing you without even asking. He tosses the cloth on his dresser and then collapses back on the bed next to you. Pulls you into his body without a second thought.
âI donât want to go anywhere,â you say softly while youâre nestled into him.Â
âLike I would let you leave,â he says just as softly.
âOh, the man that begs for my pussy is going to force me to stay?â you challenge.Â
You feel the way his chest slightly rumbles with laughter. âI was hoping youâd let me live for a second.â
âAfter you not letting me live since we met? Fat chance,â you answer.
âI suppose I deserved that,â he says.
âI really donât want to leave tonight, though, so hopefully you have more clothes to lend me,â you say.
âYouâre gonna have to let me move for that,â he says in return.
âWorst offer Iâve gotten all day, but fine,â you agree and allow him to disentangle from you.Â
Once he offers you some clothes, you also get up from the bed to get dressed. Try not to ogle Jeonghan too much as he does the same. He catches you, because of course he does, but surprisingly doesnât say anything. Only smiles back at you. You help him remake the bed before the two of you go back out into the living area. It occurs to you that you didnât exactly let your roommate know what you were up to before just heading straight over to see Jeonghan.
A fact that is immediately obvious when you see the texts and missed calls on your phone. Oop.
âHey,â you call out to Jeonghan. âMy roommate, Iâm sure you remember himâŠâ
âYeah, Seungkwan, right?â he asks.
âYeah, heâs freaking out because I forgot to say I was coming over here,â you say. âIâm just gonna call him really quick to let him know Iâm fine and Iâll see him tomorrow.â
âDo you want privacy?â he asks and you just laugh lightly.
âNot sure I need it,â you say and the phone is already ringing. Seungkwan answers nearly immediately.
âWhat the fuck? Are you okay?â he asks instead of saying hello.
âChill, Kwan, Iâm fine,â you answer.Â
âWhere are you? Your class ended hours ago,â he says.
âHas it been hours?â you ask with some amount of surprise.Â
âWait, where are you?â he asks again, sounding calm but skeptical now.Â
âI justâŠjust donât worry about me for the night, okay? Iâll be home tomorrow,â you say.Â
âSwitch to video, you whore,â Seungkwan says skeptically.
âDonât be a weirdo,â you retort.
âCome on! Turn on your camera!â he yells and you pull the phone away from your ear.
âFucking fine,â you grumble and press the button on your phone before holding it back up to your face.
âI KNEW IT!â he shrieks gleefully. âWhoâs shirt is that?â
âOh, well, itâsâŠâ you stall and look over at Jeonghan. Heâs already moving toward you.
âWell?â Seungkwan prompts as Jeonghan leans over behind you so his face shows in the camera.
âItâs mine,â Jeonghan answers and Seungkwan looks like Christmas came early.
âWell, hello Jeonghan,â he says.Â
âI promise to take good care of her and send her back in one piece,â Jeonghan says and Seungkwan canât contain his grin.
âKeep her as long as you like. Iâm about to be so rich,â he says, far happier than he should be.
âGoodbye Seungkwan. Iâll see you tomorrow,â you say and hang up before he can say anything.Â
Once you hang up, Jeonghan gives you an odd look. Like heâs trying to figure out what Seungkwan just said.
âDo IâŠwant to ask?â he finally asks.
You sigh. âSeungkwan started placing and taking bets about me sleeping with you as soon as I mentioned you.âÂ
âAnd when was that?â he asks, seemingly not even surprised by the bets. You internally curse.
âAfter the very first class when you mentioned you joined because you like Legos,â you admit.Â
âWe could have saved so much time,â he whines and you just shake your head.
âThis is exactly how it was supposed to go,â you disagree.
âMaybe,â he concedes. âShould we get some sleep? We can figure everything else out in the light of day.â
âSounds perfect,â you agree and follow him to bed.Â
Itâs far easier than it should be to settle into bed with him. Like youâve done it a million times before. Maybe itâs okay to allow yourself to have the things you want. Maybe this can all be as easy as attaching one block to another until you have something amazing.Â
i hope you liked it! and like i said, i'll be back to fix any spelling/grammar errors after the weekend.
contains: TA! mingyu, fluff, smut [minors DNI], angst, statistics, ur honour they're stupid for one another, descriptions of stress exhaustion and burnout, academic burden, disagreements, mingyu is smart as hell, shitting on bad professors, smut but its a surprise [gyu gets his soul sucked while he's reciting statistical models I mean what]
words of conviction from @highvern: Kim Mingyu, total asshole , 1-800-HOT N DUMB , THEYRE IN LOVE MINGYU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU LOSER , sick fucking freak , i know when you wrote this you put your head in your hands , OHHHM YW GOD
synopsis:
In all your years of academic endurance, youâve never failed. A 100% success rate, despite you cutting it close at times. However, the line graph that is your life starts tanking somewhere around the time you began taking this hellsent Statistics in Psychological Research class. With a professor that wouldnât know his ass from his head, and an overworked, overenthusiastic, and overcaptivating TA, it couldn't possibly get any worse than this.
However, statistically speaking,âŠit could.
[a/n]: this fic is set in the same universe as @highvern's wonu fic endpoint [read here!!!], some insight for wonu's pov is included here as is some of Mingyu's pov in cam's fic if you'd like to see more about what happens in the gaps!!
I want to start by thanking everyone who chose to be part of this collab fic and for being the reason cam and I were able to open up @camandemstudios in the first place. everyone's been so kind and cooperative and I still cant believe we managed to convince such amazing writers to join us on this collab journey đ„č I love u guys
Thanking my wife camothy @highvern for brainstorming with me since day one and for betaing for me. @seokgyuu and @miabebe for also looking over the doc and reassuring me. I'm for sure forgetting someone and I'm really sorry about that, know that I appreciate you just as much đ€
on that note, I hope you guys enjoy this fic, im HELLA nervous for some reason so plsplspls remember to reblog and send me feedback on how you liked it, I will love you forever <333
masterlist
Monday
A normal person wouldâve cried. Perhaps even sued the entire institution for all it was worth. Burn down the world, if it came to it.Â
But as you stare at the tiny 37/100 on your screen, you feelâŠnothing.Â
You couldâve said you saw it coming, which you did, but something about blaming someone else for an exam you took was beginning to feel a little manipulative.Â
Clicking off the student portal, you huff loudly, five in the morning too early for you to begin breaking down over a grade that was completely unreflective of what you were taught.Â
Or maybe it was, because as you count one, two, three hours till your dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, you can only hope youâll hold back from spitting in your professorâs coffee. But alas, you can only shut your laptop harder than necessary for what it costs and push the grade out of your mind.
You were tired enough to sleep for a couple more hours, and you take it as an opportunity to spite the entire course by giving just as many fucks as your professor did. Â
Which was little to none.Â
That was a lieâon your part anyway. Because you continue to show up, and probably will until you can put this course and all of its trauma behind you. Even now as you feel the inclining beat of your pulse sitting in the white lecture hall, you know this is all but you versus the universe.Â
Dr. Cho might as well have wheeled himself into the room on a skateboard with the way he struts into the room.Â
Heâs wearing a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off and jeans of a matching finish that do not fit him properly. Thereâs pins in every last colour on this earth, littering the front of his jacket with sayings that toe the silver controversial lining. There was one that said Vote for John F. Kennedy, another plain black one with I Eat Kids, and of course, the blaring Cunt written in cursive, pink sparkly letters.Â
This man thatâs pushing into his 60s stands before his slightly wilted class in his crocs, hands on his hips as he heaves a long breath.Â
âI have to say, not the turn out I was expecting on that last report.â
Heâs talking about the report you coincidentally failed, the same one you were pushed into with little to no direction and a deadline tighter than any youâve had to bully yourself through.Â
âAll I can say is to read through the feedback Iâve given and try a little harder next time.â His voice is somewhere bordering comical exasperation. Feedback that consisted of sparing â?ââs and ânoââs with zero further explanation. He could say more, but youâve learned that he simply chooses to not.Â
Besides the man that drones in the front of the room, thereâs another person in the other corner of the lecture hall. Heâs hunched over a giant pile of papers, sifting through each and every one with a pen in his other hand.Â
The TA doing a mundane task is somehow more interesting than whatever seminars of disappointment your professor was giving. Heâs crossing something out on every single leaf of paper that he flicks through, and you vaguely wonder if those were todayâs worksheets.Â
â...and post hoc tests last week, we can start on Bayesian today. Mingyu will be handing out the tutorial papers.â
The poor TA looks like he thought heâd have more time, snapping his head up to look at the professor with an expression of pure incredulousness. He staggers for a moment before heâs flicking past the pages even faster somehow, striking out what seems like the same instruction in the giant pile of papers meant for an entire lecture hall. Thereâs a rustle as about a hundred laptops are being pulled out and booted up, waiting for the worksheets to land on the desks.Â
You hear the familiar warble of papers being passed out and you watch as the TA pulls chunks of sheets out of the giant stack in his arms to slam down onto the front tables.Â
âPass it down, please⊠pass it down, pleaseâŠâ
Thereâs a voice that calls from one of the front seats, âWhat formula is the sheet talking about?â
Mingyu looks startled as he snaps back to look at the blaring empty whiteboard. In the midst of passing papers, you watch him sprint to the rolling whiteboards, pulling one of the giant flats of white over to the other side, the mechanism slamming into place with a louder than comfortable slam. It reveals another whiteboard underneath with the detestably long formula already written (and the one youâd have to figure out yourself).
 The professor remains with his chin in his hands behind his laptop, unphased.Â
By the time youâve registered the foreign symbols on the board, one of the tutorial papers has made it into your hands.
Sure enough, thereâs a quick line across one of the steps with a thick black marker.Â
Blinking hard, you attempt to pull yourself into the zone, staring at the white sheet with words that are barely stringing themselves together. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially as you lift your head to find hunched shoulders and furrowed brows all around.Â
Thereâs one person thatâs zipping back and forth, just like there always is.Â
You watch as Mingyu hunches over certain laptops and whispers in rapid explanation before moving on to the next, a looming sense of dizziness that trails behind him as he shoots up the stairs to the back rows to help someone else.Â
Thereâs a brief consideration to raise your own hand to ask for help, but one look at his disoriented gaze and the amount of hands that shoot up by the second, you guess it wasnât going to help.
Back you go, hunched over the same wretched paper as everyone else, and praying for some divine revelation.Â
Tuesday
Divine revelation did not come to you, but the good sense to make use of office hours did.Â
So here you are, a printed copy of your supposedly horrid assignment and a pack of multicolour pens in your tote, and determination in your stride, you make your way to the department building.Â
Youâve double, triple, quadruple checked the times to ensure you donât dip in at the wrong moment, swiping open your phone to re-check the room number yet again.Â
Standing outside the door, you knock with mustered confidence, waiting for something akin to an affirmative from the other side of the door.Â
Nothing.Â
You knock again.
Silence.Â
You glance around the empty hall before grasping onto the cool brass handle of the door, wrenching it open just a peep. Poking your head in, you find the roomâŠempty.
The chairs and tables that usually buzz with discussing students lay barren as you step into the room. Moving to look at the front of the room, you inhale sharply as you realise the professorâs desk has been occupied this entire time.Â
Except heâs asleep.
No, thatâs not the professor.Â
Moving closer, you watch the way his back rises and falls ever so slowly, head resting on his arm as his hand hangs limp off the table. Whipping your head around with more attention this time, you attempt to find an explanation written on the walls. But thereâs none, even in the papers that litter the table he rests his head on.
You donât need to see his face to know itâs the TA. But as you stand in the empty room, clutching the straps of your tote, you arenât quite sure what to do.Â
Another glance around the table and you realise his laptop remains on, the screen yet to sleep. Before the obvious issue of a blatant invasion of privacy can befall you, you take a step forward to take a peek.Â
Itâs his schedule, a million colours blaring on the screen in a colour coded regard with barely any white spaces. It doesnât take long to find his time slot for right now, red with importance.Â
Glancing down, the man remains fast asleep, pen still in hand as it inks a faint line on the page. You look around the room for the nth time, taking constant glances back at his laptop that tells you heâs actively missing something right now. Clearing your throat, you hunch over a tad bit.Â
âUm, excuse me.â He hardly moves. So you try a little louder, hunching over his sleeping form even further. âExcuse me.â
You couldâve sworn you heard a snore.Â
Out of instinct, you bring a hand forward to his shoulder, shaking ever so slightly as you call for him again. âExcuse me!â
Thereâs a sharp inhale and he shoots up quicker than you can back away, ensuring you get an entire backâs worth of force as he bumps into you, hard.
âWhâow!â The noise is collective, yelps and thuds as you both back away from each other.Â
âWâwhatâre you doing here?â he asks, hair still ruffled and eyes barely open as he stands at the table. Thereâs a bright yellow sticky note on his right cheek, ink scribbled on in something you canât decipher.
âUm, itâs officeââ
His eyes land on the same screen you were peering into just before and it looks like his life flashes before his eyes, widening at the sight as he slams around the table looking for something.Â
âI have to go,â he announces, gripping onto an unstrapped watch as he registers the time, his other hand shoving his laptop and a few papers into a dark messenger bag.Â
âWait, isnât it still office hours?â you call out as he whizzes past you.Â
Heâs swinging his bag over his shoulder and half tripping to the door as he calls out, âWednesdays and Thursdays.â
âButââ
âItâs on the portal.â
âNo itâs not.â
âYes itââ he pauses as he exhales loudly, closing his eyes and bringing a hand to rub across his tired face. âIâll double check. But itâs Wednesdays and Thursdays from now on. You can wait till I get back if you really want help.â
âHowââ
A loud slam! of the door.Â
ââlongâŠâÂ
Youâre left draped in silence yet again, the echoes of the slammed door ringing in your startled ears. It all happened too fast for you to process, blinking rapidly as you registered that you were now alone in the room.Â
He said heâd be back, but left you with no indication as to when. By the looks of his god awful schedule, it looked like he had something else to attend to right after whatever it was he buggered off to right now.Â
Fingers clenched into a fist, you consider your options. You could wait, sit on one of the desks and try to get some work done until he gets back.Â
The universe gives you your answer as the door opens with a loud creak in the empty lecture hall. Itâs another professor who looks quite startled to find an overenthusiastic student already present for class.Â
She stares before craning to look at the room number outside the door, âAm I in the right room?â
âUh, yes! I was just leaving,â you buffer out, moving to shuffle out immediately.Â
Youâre halfway out the door when you hear another call of an âExcuse me!â
âAre these your papers?â The professorâs full arms are up as she gestures to the still littered table.Â
The No is ready on your lips. Until it isnât.Â
Later on, youâd consider how you left that room with an armful of papers that did not belong to you. How youâd ducked under the table to ensure youâd gotten everything, down to the leather strap watch with the cracked clock face.Â
But as you stare at the stack of files and sheets that lay on your desk at home, you only know of the decent act that youâd committed.
And nothing of the hourglass youâd just turned over.Â
Wednesday
In your Sent box are three emails sent on three separate days, all asking the same recurring question, all responding with the same recurring reply.
I wanted to confirm the days and times for office hours. Iâm aware itâs on the portal but Iâd like to reconfirm.Â
Regards, YN
Dear YN,
Wednesdays and Thursdays. 4 to 6 PM.
Kim Mingyu, T.A.Â
So there you were on a Wednesday afternoon, 3:59 PM sharp, outside the lecture hall where office hours have always been. With the same tote hung on your shoulders, with the same printed assignment and pack of multicolour pens, and a separated stack of files and folders, you wrench the door open with bated breath.Â
The blended murmur of the usual hustle and bustle of the appointment reassures you first, the sight of scattered students of familiar faces reassures you second. And most of all, a conscious TA that sits at the professorâs desk, speaking to another student over a laptop screen.Â
The man does nothing to acknowledge your arrival, continuing above the babble of students that occupy the chairs and the discussion. It isnât too full, but considerably busy nonetheless despite how early youâve swooped in.Â
Thereâs a brief consideration whether this was in the TAâs job description at all, craning your neck to take a full sweep of the room to find a sparing glimpse of the man who should be here. The professor and his loud fashion choices are nowhere to be found.Â
The sigh you let out is heavy and full of an emotion you cannot possibly begin to unpack, taking a seat on one of the unoccupied chairs to slump against. Shoulders sagging, you feel every fibre of your being screaming against your better judgement to pull out some work and to be productive while you wait. Reading over your failed assignment for the nth time, the same one that seemed to be some sick form of rage bait.Â
You pull a couple things out so as to not look awkward sitting and staring into nothing on an empty desk, uncapping your pen and pulling up your sleeves like there was business to be done. Which there was, but none of which you wished to entertain.Â
People watching, you realise, is a lot easier when most of the room is preoccupied with whatever it is theyâre doing, too busy to notice your blank stares.Â
The faces are familiar, none of which are people youâve interacted with before but classmates nonetheless. The room is full of shaking legs, spinning pens and hunched backs, not an un-scrunched brow in sight. Thereâs a particular gaggle of girls somewhere around the front, their tables suggesting a work environment but between the whispers, giggles and glances to the front of the room, you assume thereâs one thing in common the both of you werenât doing.Â
Speaking of the front of the room, your matched glance finds you face to face with the student at the main table in the middle of pushing himself off his seat. Your reaction is immediate, hand coming over to slam against the flat of your bag to find the lost straps, moving out of your seat as you keep your eyes on the front of the room.Â
Bad luck must be a lover, because you realise quickly that somebodyâs already beat you to it. Before you even noticed the firstâs intentions to. The student stands beside the chair ready to keep it warm as the previous occupant leaves.Â
Slamming back down on your own seat, you realise very quickly that trying to get an audience with this TA was going to be harder than you anticipated. Thereâs multiple other sounds of frustration around the room, and you doubt the slowly increasing pool of students was going to help anyoneâs time management.Â
Realising you needed to be a little more tactical if you didnât want to sit here for the next month and half, you find an empty spot near the gaggle of girls youâd noticed before. It was right up front, just enough for you to hear when the conversation would begin to conclude at the main table.Â
Once again, the TA doesnât seem to notice any of the hustle and bustle of the room as his mouth continues to move rapidly, eyes on the question as he invests himself in his explanation.Â
It was unfortunate that the only remaining seat was right next to the louder than necessary group, but you take it as a blessing anyway. Itâs then that the one right next to you turns to stage-whisper to you.Â
âAre you here to see him?â
You donât expect a conversation, ears straining to eavesdrop on the other conversation in front of you to find your cue. You snap to look at her in surprise. âPardon?âÂ
âAre you here to see him? Mingyu?â
âUhââ Wasnât everybody? âYeah, I had a couple things I wanted to clear out.â
The revelation makes her shoulders drop as she lets out a loud sigh, âGod, I can never get anything this professor says. I've been here nearly every week trying to figure it all out.â
âYeah heâs a bitâŠunorthodox.â
âHeâs unorthodox too.â She looks over to the main table towards the TA, chin in her hands as she gazes. âA face like that is rare.â
It wasnât that she was wrong, it didnât take more than a glance to convince yourself that Mingyu was possibly one of the more attractive people youâd meet in your lifetime. But the appeal lasted for all of five minutes for you, flitting away when you noticed that he dragged along a veryâŠoverwrought⊠suggestion wherever he went.Â
It was clear he was stressed seemingly all year round, nearly just as relaxed as your professor seemed to be.Â
But Mingyu was attractive. And you realise how much of a fool youâd sound if you admitted to anything other than such.Â
âIt is. His willpowerâs somehow even rarer,â you add. âDonât know how he does it.â
âGod, tell me about it. Forget getting his number, trying to have more than a three sentence exchange with him without some statistical nonsense involved is near impossible.â Her face has fallen, a tight little frown on her face as she irritates herself with some other memory.Â
Taking a glance down at her notes, you find the printed sheet littered with glitter gel pen ink lining the edges, doodles of stars and hearts and small anime characters next to p values and z scores.Â
Thereâs a distinct sound of a chair screeching, and itâs like a large GAME OVER sign is hanging above your head.Â
You jerk in your seat, like you could jump over the table and land in the emptying seat with some god-given stroke of luck, like the person already standing next to the chair wouldnât hold a lifelong grudge against the insane girl with an unnatural acclimation to statistics.Â
Although, nothing was more unnatural than the way this TA seemed to know more than the professor. Or you were just really behind.Â
Alas, you donât tumble over the table or kick back your chair, merely making a forceful motion in your seat, palms itching terribly as you watch the girl with her open laptop balanced in her arms move to take a seat.Â
You were preoccupied, hence you do not notice that the TA has also noticed you.Â
Suddenly, the girl looks startled as sheâs told to wait.Â
âSheâs been waiting nearly a week, I really hope you donât mind,â you hear him say, voice strained as you turn to look at him. His hands are outstretched to motion towards you a few feet across from him.Â
For whatever reason, you had no thought that he mightâve remembered you. Something about his half asleep state when heâd spoken to you, perhaps he mightâve thought he dreamt it. Or heâd just forgotten it altogether.Â
The girl glances at you, and her shoulders sag a little as she nods in formality.Â
âThank you.â
It comes out of both of you, snapping to look at each other hardly a moment as you go back to smiling at the retreating student.Â
âYou can come right after her,â he reassures, his own upturned mouth tired and fading.Â
Never have you felt more awkward trying to come around the elongated student tables.Â
You pause at first, staring at the table in front of you like it was worth trying to climb over or even crawl under it to get to the desk. Another moment of eye contact as he stares at your unmoving form with a blank look, and the heat pools your skin.Â
Staggering for a moment, you end up moving past your chair and walking the way round anyway, the screeching of the chairs only nurturing the existing budding humiliation for no apparent reason.Â
It only gets worse when you sit across from him finally, backside barely touching the plastic before realising youâd forgotten your bag in your seat.Â
Mid smile in a timid greeting when you make a sound resembling something of an âOh!â as you spring back up immediately. Itâs easier to reach for your bag over the table you were sitting on, reaching across to grab it off your vacated seat.Â
The girl you were sitting next to just before makes a motion like sheâs trying to help and you have to remind yourself to smile at her as you retreat.Â
Mingyu has the very beginnings of an amused expression on his face once youâve finally made yourself comfortable across from him, clearing your throat just for something to do.Â
âRight. How can I help you?â
Pulling out your printed assignment, you bring out the sheets of stapled paper to the centre of the table, writing facing him.Â
One look at the sparse format of the cover page, he blows a full mouth of air at the sight of recognition. Without you having to say a thing, he flicks to the very last page, finding the rubric printed on a separate page.Â
âItâs a 37,â you inform him like he couldnât see the bold 37/100 in the bottom Total cell.Â
âDo you think you deserved a better grade?â he asks. It would have sounded direct, an accusation even. But he asks with an intonation of genuinity, like he actually wanted to know.Â
It stumps you regardless.
âWellâŠI know I can do better, at least,â you decide to answer.Â
âYouâre here, which means youâre at least willing to try. Thatâs a start,â he murmurs. His eyes are laser focused on the sheet beneath him, holding it open as his eyes move faster across the page than you can keep up with. Somehow talking to you while taking in the words on the paper.
âI remember marking this,â he says, looking up to address you. âYour concepts are nearly there, but your structure and presentation was off.â
âYou marked them?â
He raises his brow, âI hope that wasnât an accusation. I need to stick to the rubric.â
âI thought the professor marked the lab reports.â
âHeâsâŠsupposed to.â Thereâs a forced reservedness in his voice. âI mark them and he puts in his comments if he has any. But Iâm not sure youâd fare any better than this if it was him behind that pen either.â
Every question that floated in memorisation, from the form and structure, to the nitty gritties of the data presentation, all evaporate as you realise youâre at a loss for words.Â
Even more embarrassingly, you feel tears prick the back of your eyes. You donât have an explanation, but itâs somehow easier to feel helpless in front of the man thatâs meant to help you. âI donât know what to do anymore.â
âThatâs alright,â he says as reassurance, though it sounds awfully rehearsed. Like he has to say it everyday. âWeâll work through it.â
He lets out a big sigh, adjusting in his chair and running a hand through his hair. The motion has you noticing the dishevelled nature of the mop on his head, un-uniformed and sticking out at certain places, yet still somehow cohesive with his look. His shoulders are straight and taut, fingers working as they fiddle and flick the pen in his hand.Â
Despite it all, his shirt is ruffled and creased, unbuttoned at the first couple steps. The buttons are misaligned, one side of his collar higher on his neck than the other. It takes an effort to not reach over and fix it for him.
âLab reports can be quite tricky if you arenât sure what youâre doing. Did you refer to the tutorial?â
You mean the one that did nothing to help? âYes.â
âYou got those bits right, format and whatnot. Butââ
âIt was a lump of writing about subheadings and word counts,â you say plainly.
Mingyu lips are in a tight line. âWell, yes, but it helpsââ
âI know the results are supposed to go in the results section. I donât need a PDF to tell me that,â you cut him off. Your voice is reserved, and you hope it comes off as a point across and not a complaint. Although it was a complaint. âI want to know why the entire section was ruled off as incorrect when we were never properly taught how to write it in the first place.â
âDr. Choââ
âIs no help.â
âI understandââ
âHe canât even mark his own papers. Iâm quite sure thatâs not in your job description. Itâs supposed to be him here. Not you.â
Itâs silent. There was nothing in your voice that suggested you wished to pick a fight, on the contrary, quite calm and matter of fact. Mingyuâs fingernails are going white as his grip on his pen and paper grow stronger.Â
âAnd yet, we continue to show up. Because we do what we must.â He raises his head in control, a small smile on his face, eyebrows unnaturally raised. âAnd, better that Iâm here rather than no one at all. I can help you too.â
Help, he did.Â
Mingyu had made it quite clear his time with you was limited, but by the end of the near 25 minute session, nearly every inch of your printed assignment was covered in a rainbow of notes and corrections, additional papers and post-it notes pasted on the back as you remain careful to not lose them as you slip the stack in your bag.Â
You only remember when you spot the segregated file of papers in your bag.
âI almost forgot,â you say, slipping the files and tidbits out and in front of him.Â
âWhere did you find this?â he asks sharply, eyes widening as sees the familiar blue.Â
âYou left them at the desk of the lecture hall last week,â you say, before quickly adding, âThere was a class right after you left. I took them off the professorâs hands before they got lost. Thought it might be important.â
âIâve been looking all over for these,â he says as he goes through the pages and files. Random sticky tabs and highlighted regions across the pages. The leather strap watch with the broken clock face remains on top, and he picks it up. He looks up to you with wide, sparkling eyes and a smile that feels genuine. âThank you.â
You flush for some reason, âOâof course, couldnât just leave them there.â
Pausing, you wonder if you should make the next comment, the words tumbling out before you can make a decision. âMaybe donât run out of rooms still half asleep.â
By the grace of God, he laughs, âNo, youâre right. I should be careful.â
It isnât till youâre pushing yourself out of your chair that he continues. âYou can come in at 3:30 tomorrow.â
âPardon?â
Heâs stood up as well. âI have a free thirty minutes before office hours formally start. I can help you out a little more without the crowd.âÂ
Feet planted on the ground, thereâs not much you can do but stare. âUm, sure. I can come in a little early.â
He nods casually, âThanks again for the papers. And the watch.â
You smile, âNo problem.â
Thursday
True to your punctual nature, you make yourself known at exactly 3:29 PM.
Mingyu is at the desk, conscious and on the phone, eyes closed as he rests his face on his fist.
âI donât know if I can make time for thatâno, I understand, sir,â
Another pause as the noise from his speakers fill his ears, his rubbing over his face a little harsher than you doubt heâs entirely comfortable with.Â
âIâll see what I can do.â
His phone hits the table with a heartbreaking thud, both hands covering his face as he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.Â
âLight on your feet or something? I can never tell when you come in,â he startles when he notices you.Â
Sheepish smile on your face, you move to sit down. âSorry.â
You know itâs invasive, and you also know you might be asking him to break some unknown university code of conduct, but curiosity takes charge as you ask a casual question. âImportant call?â
âUh, yeah, um, just work stuff,â he states, shaking his head swiftly like heâs trying to shake the thought out of his mind.Â
Thereâs a pause while you're slipping your papers and laptop out of your bag, during which he seems to have decided to divulge a little more.Â
âIt was Dr. Cho. More stuff for me to do,â he says. âAs always.âÂ
âDoes he do anything other than show up to class?â you ask through a snort.Â
âOf course he does. He cusses out every article he doesnât agree with, is anything but objective andâŠthe occasional relay of blatant misinformation.âÂ
For the record, youâd never really heard Mingyu speak at all for the months heâd been TA-ing for the semester. It was small whispers of choice words in a vague voice, the distant murmur as he exchanged with the professor too far for you to hear.Â
The voice of the seemingly quiet and diligent TA was never known to you, not until yesterday as he explained statistical models and the flaws of your data presentation.Â
Passionately too. Incredulous for a discipline so dry and unapproachable.Â
That being said, something about the grit in his voice as he positively sneered through his teeth, badmouthing his professorâit was something you couldnât quite believe he was capable of.Â
âIâm sorry you have to put up with him.â
Once again, by whatever stone of tolerance the universe bestowed in his heart, you watch him sigh and smile, âAnything for that recommendation. And the pay too, I suppose. Besides, heâs done a lot for the area, canât discredit him entirely.â
With your eyebrows raised, he seems to catch your expression. He pants out a laugh, and your stomach lurches as you watch it reach his eyes, teeth on display, a lurch in his chest; a true laugh.Â
Raising his hands in surrender, he responds, âIâm stuck.â
Thereâs nothing you can do to stop the smile that reaches your own face, turning your laptop screen towards him with the JASP software display. âI am too. Help.â
Help, he does.
Monday
Mingyu ended up giving you an entire hour on that Thursday.Â
The thirty minutes before office hours began soared by like they were nothing, and you were ready to take your leave the minute students began to scatter in as the clock hit a swift four. Except he kept going, another 30 minutes in deep concentration as he retaught you nearly everything from scratch.Â
Perhaps his proven determination to ensure you donât tragically fail is what prompted you to do this, standing at the till of your regular coffee shop as you ask, âMake that two, please.â
It might also be important to mention the 7:30 AM on the dial on a bright Monday morning as you walked into your slightly less dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, knowing there would only be one other person insane enough to get to the lecture hall this early.Â
Something isnât right.Â
Mingyu is in a position all too familiar to you and everyone else who shares this class, hunched over something or the other in deep focus. The sun pours in through the lifted blinds, the lights of the class turned off as natural light does more than enough of the job.Â
It also shows you a blaring hot pink post-it note on his face, all too familiar to a previous interaction youâve had with him.Â
He notices you before you need to announce yourself, brows separating as he recognises you in the doorway. ââMorning!âÂ
â...Morning.â
âYouâre early,â he comments, straightening his back with a hand behind him for support as you approach.Â
âFigured we both needed this,â you hand him a tray with his cup of coffee, eyes still trained on his lower cheek with the paper stuck to it. âItâs a latte with no sugar, but I added a couple packets on the side anyway. Just in case.â
âOâoh, thank you. And youâre right I did need this.â
Now that youâre closer, the scrawled writing on the post-it note is clearer.Â
To Do:
Call mom
Shoot myself
âYou, umââ Itâs alarmingly difficult for you to say it, despite the words being so simple. Hey! You got a lilâ something on your face.
But all you do is dumbly point to your own cheek, eyes trained on the loud piece of paper that tells more than he might like the world to know.Â
Thereâs a loud slap of his hand on his own cheek as he crumples the paper in his hands, bringing it forward to see. âFor fuckâs sake.â
âItâs okay! I wannaâŠshoot myself too sometimes.âÂ
What the fuck?
âI mean!â you correct louder than you anticipated, before covering with a laugh. âItâs okay, it happens. Good thing I caught it before someone else did.â
Itâs all the more petrifying when your voice echoes across the blatantly empty lecture hall, reverberating like it was a punishment for you and your horrid lack of volume control. Meeting his eyes feels like a sin right now, so you keep them downcast and pray he doesnât try to sabotage your education.Â
âGood thing it was just you. Yeah.â
Just you.
âAnyways, I think Iâm done with prepping for class. Do you wanna squeeze in twenty minutes of ANOVA?âÂ
âHave you seen the time?âÂ
âNot a morning person?â
âNope!â
âAnd yet itâs 7:40 on a Monday morning and youâre absurdly early.â His brows are raised as he pulls around the professor's chair to bring it to you.Â
âDo you want the coffee or not?â you ask, watching as he drags another chair for himself.Â
The both of you sit away from the professors table, coffees in hand as you watch Mingyu run a hand through his hair.Â
He gives you a crooked grin,âI apologise.â
âTo be fair,â he continues. âIâm not much of a morning person either.â
You narrow your eyes the slightest bit as Mingyu takes a sip of his unsweetened coffee, âIâm starting to think no moneyâs worth this job.â
Mingyu snorts, coffee suspended in his full cheeks. He swallows with much difficulty before answering, âYouâre right. Not sure why Iâm still here either. I could get an offer from another professor.â
âAnd that isnât happening becauseâŠ?â
Elbows on his knees, Mingyu swirls his capless coffee cup, the beige liquid moving in a growing tornado. âI like Dr. Cho.â
âYouââ
âI know,â he laughs loud, a deep, echoing sound that shakes in your ears. âI know. I sound like a lunatic.â
âI donât know about lunacy, but insanity can have its reasons.â
âAnother would argue that insanity was the very absence of reason.âÂ
âDonât get smart with me.â
âExcuse me for doing my job.â
He takes another sip of his coffee, and you ask again, âNo, but really. I canât imagine this man having too many redeeming qualities as an educator.â
Mingyu lifts his chin as he presses his lips together. âWhen I was in my first year, there was this other class I had where we had to write a lab report for the first time.â
âPSYCH101?â
âThatâs the one. Iâd never written one before, but I liked statistics enough to do a little more digging than what the assignment called for. I ended up finding one of Dr. Choâs studies, read the entire thing, word for word. I was up all night reading nearly everything heâd published, some of âem before any of us were even born.âÂ
âOh. So youâre a fan.â
âEveryone tells you to never meet your idols,â he snickers. âHeâs done amazing things, but I guess he pays for it with his flawed personality.â
âIâm sorry it had to be you,â you half joke.Â
Mingyu looks at you sheepishly, âThat might also be my own fault.âÂ
âDonât tell me you offered.â
âI might as well have. All my assignments referenced his work the most. I was always talking to him about upcoming research after class, and it was like he was a different person. Forget differing opinions, some of what he was saying was justâŠplain incorrect. He welcomed the argument though, and I couldnâtâcanâtâstand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know itâs not true. He was always emailing me extra resources whichâŠIâm pretty sure he isnât supposed to do. Only reason I did so well in his class was because I taught myself.âÂ
He sighs a loud sigh, straightening his back, âI guess he liked me more than I thought, because next thing I know Iâm getting a call over the summer telling me I have a job.â
âDid heâŠhave a TA when you were in his class?âÂ
âFour.â
âFour?!â
âTwo at a time. All of âem quit at some point. Said they didnât want the recommendation or the pay.â
âWould heâŠnot give you a recommendation anyway? You said he liked you.â
Mingyu shakes his head solemnly, âHeâs a tough cookie, everyone in the field knows that. If youâve impressed him, youâve impressed everyone.â
You take a moment to really absorb everything youâve just learned. âThatâs a sucky position youâre in.â
âTell me about it. But itâs okay. Threeâthree and a half more months to go? This isnât even the worst of it, Iâm just dreading study week when Iâm gonna have to handle all the crying.â
You wince as he mentions something even remotely close to exam season, still barely at a stage where you can accept youâd be alright with this class.Â
âI know youâre not nearly as qualified or experienced as him, but I think you could take over his class.â
âEver heard of barriers to entry? Iâd be ruined if I wanted a career in this.â
You roll your eyes playfully, âAll Iâm saying is Iâve learned more from you in barely a couple hours combined than the last two months Iâve spent cursing this very lecture hall.â
If you werenât lying to yourself, you couldâve sworn you saw a blush creep up his face, and paired with his shy laugh and hand at the back of his neck, you canât help but bite back your own smile.Â
âIf I can help you then itâs worth losing myself.â
Your heart is in your fucking throat.
âIâm glad when students tell me that,â he continues, utterly oblivious to the landslide happening in your digestive tract. âMakes me feel like Iâm doing something right.â
âYouâreââ you swallow thickly because you sound like a toad. âYouâre doing more than just something right. Youâre saving us therapy and an extra semester.â
He laughs at that, and you wish heâd let you breathe.Â
âFeels like Iâm doing something wrong sometimes,â he huffs. âMy friendâs a TA too and heâs got himself a girlfriend on top of everything else heâs got going on.âÂ
He goes on, âDo you know how many times I need to ask people to quit twirling their hair? To look at the page and not my face? Asking for my number, I have an email for a reason, for fuckâs sakeââ
Mingyu is cut off because youâre laughing, hand to mouth as your shoulders shake through your sniggering. âWâwhat?â
âIâm sorry,â you hiccup. âItâs justâŠIt sounds like you donât know what you look like.â
âWhatâs wrong with how I look?â he frowns.
âNothing!â you exclaim. âBut thatâs the problem isnât it.â
Mingyu doesnât seem to buy it, even through your coaxing as you attempt to explain to him that he is, in fact, desirable.
âCanât possibly be enough to distract people,â he huffs in earnest, still hung up on the students he canât get through to.Â
âMajority of the class would beg to differ.â
Thereâs a pause as he registers what you imply.Â
After a few moments, he drops his head, opening his mouth, âWould⊠you alsoââ
Thereâs a loud creak of the door as you hear the immediate noises of shuffling feet and chattering mouths, as low and tired as they sounded. Turning back to look at Mingyu, heâs already jumped out of his seat, wrist to face as he checks the time on the same leather strap watch you returned.Â
âThatâs our cue,â you breathe, pushing your chair back behind the professorâs desk as you manoeuvre around Mingyu whoâs suddenly frantic.Â
Of course you realise thereâs people other than just the two of you in the room, heightened in seats that are designed to ensure they can absorb every detail that goes on right where you stand in the front of the room.
But you feel the soft of Mingyuâs shirt over his wrist as you give him a gentle squeeze despite it all, barely enough pressure. Half your index finger brushes the skin of his hand, just enough to register how cold your fingertips are and how warm his body is.Â
âRelax,â you whisper. âYouâll be better off without all the panic.â
You donât see his face as you brush past him and up to your seat, looking up to see him disappear somewhere in the corner hunched over another stack of papers. The next time you see Mingyuâs face is when the professor arrives and has begun his regularly scheduled tomfoolery, and realise all the age that can accumulate in the span of five minutes.Â
Thursday
Midterm season is nothing youâve ever really had to worry about.Â
Something about the halfway point did make it obvious that the clock was ticking, but danger was far enough away to prevent the ultimate breakdowns reserved for the peak seasons.Â
Except this class isnât ordinary, and itâs all youâre able to worry about all semester. And as Dr. Cho in his Thrasher vest announces the date for the in class midterm, the glass once half empty, suddenly looks very half full.Â
âIâm not ready.â
âYouâre more ready than anyone else in class.â
âHow do you know that?â
Mingyu stares at you blankly, âIf I donât know that, then who else does?â
You have tears in your eyes, which is embarrassing enough since this is the second time youâve teared up in front of him, but also because youâre in a library following Mingyu around like a lost duck because he insists on putting the books he borrowed back onto the shelves himself after registering the return.Â
âBut I donât feel like Iâm ready,â you whine, turning the corner as he searches for the last spot to place his final book.Â
âYouâll realise just how ready you are when all those hieroglyphs on the page start to make sense to you,â he grunts the last bit out as he reaches on his tippy toes to shove the book back up.Â
Dusting his hands off, he adjusts his shirt before turning to you, âYou only feel that way because Iâve been giving you harder problems to work on. Youâre past the level you need to be at right now. Trust me, youâre more than prepared.â
âButââ
âListen,â he waves to the librarian as you both leave the library, your eyes still glistening as you fiddle with your sleeves. âItâs only the midtermââ
âOnly theââ
âIf this goes wrong, Iâm just gonna have to work you harder for the real thing. Even though I know it wonât go wrong because I said so.â
You fall into silence as he walks you towards the coffee shop across the courtyard.Â
âIâm assumingâŠâ you start.Â
âHm?â he looks over to you.
âIâm assuming you canât hint at whatâs on the paper.â
Mingyu barks out a laugh of disbelief, âYou assume correct. Iâm not going through hell with this job just to lose it because of a paper leak.â
âBut itâs just the midterm,â you mumble, not even close to remotely audible.Â
âWhat did you say?â Mingyu smirks.Â
âNothing,â you huff.
âYou know, Iâm a little offended you donât trust me.â
âWho said I didnât.â
âWell then, stop being such a worrywart.â
There must be something written on your face, because as you pass Mingyu standing at the door he keeps open for you, entering into the coffee shop with fallen shoulders, he seems to change his mind.Â
He brings you a coffee, sits you down, and gives you something else you need. âI made the paper. Every question. And I taught you. Every concept. So I definitely know youâre gonna be fine.â
In that moment, with the large glass walls of the warm coffee shop, the afternoon sun comfortably resting on every last object of the room, you donât see it illuminate anything other than the man before you.Â
Perhaps you're being dramatic at the revelation, but you donât take anything into account as you note Mingyuâs eyes and how they sparkle like they were gifted from the centre of a flaming volcano, brown and polished more than any jewel or stone youâd ever seen. Reaching out to touch him, you know youâd feel nothing but smooth stone, the indentations only possible by a being beyond what you could comprehend.Â
Heâd given you more than just reassurance, and at times, his timing makes it feel like he was sent from the heavens itself, just for you.Â
You sniffle.Â
His hands brush over yours as he hands you a napkin, and even more so, cover your own as he takes your freezing fingertips into his own palm, the contact burning you like hot coal.Â
You know heâs real. And you donât know why quite just yet, but that reassurance is enough to give you calm.
Monday
You were alright, but it seems that Mingyu seemed to disintegrate right after he was done reassuring you to the moon and Saturn and Jupiter and back.
Itâs midterm day, and as always on every Monday morning, you enter the empty lecture hall with two warm coffees in your hand, ready for whatever shitshow youâd have to perform for today.
It seems Mingyu must defect from at least one regular string of behaviour to remain as Mingyu, who on this occasion, stands before you in a baby blue polo sweater.Â
Except you only know that because you can see the unique collar, but it might also be important that his back is turned towards you.Â
âMorning, champ,â he gruffs, nothing encouraging about his voice in the slightest.Â
Your breath hitches when you finally see his face, eyes sunken in and face pale. His lips are chapped and peeling, eyes half closed.Â
âWhyâre you looking at me like that, why has everyone been looking at me like that?â he huffs in one long, rapid question.Â
âUm, I mean,â you stare at his shirt thatâs backwards. And inside out. âI canât tell if thatâs a choice or a mistake.â
Looking down at his front, he looks back up, âWhat?â
âYour collar isâŠnot at your collar, Mingyu. And your shirtâs inside out.â
Hand at his nape, he reaches his fingers down and finds the unmistakable starched planes of his collar, eyes closing at the realisation. Heâs immediately pulling his arms out of the shirt with his eyes still closed like itâd all disappear if he keeps them like that.Â
âWait!â you exclaim before he strips entirely, scrambling to put your coffees down to push him out of the room towards the restrooms. âDo you wanna strip for the CCTVs?â
You only hear him sigh as he moves out and into the hall, doors closed behind him.Â
Youâve nearly forgotten about the midterm at this point, your concern now growing in a completely different direction. By the time Mingyu returns, heâs blabbing about wondering why everyone he ran into since he left home was giving him the strangest looks, and then something about you always swooping in to save him before the real bout of disaster strikes.Â
Itâs hard for you to listen to him when youâre more worried about him passing out, his face doing him no favours to reassure you that he wasnât a breathing corpse.Â
âMingyuâŠdid you sleep at all?â
âHm?â His eyes are glazed over and unfocused.Â
âSleep? Rest?â
âOh,â he frowns. âNot really. I had emails coming in all night.â
âAnd you were replying?â
âIt's the midterm today,â he responds flatly, like it shouldâve been enough explanation.Â
You almost donât believe him. âDoesnât mean you stay up to answer something that shouldâve been cleared out beforehand!â
âCouldnât just leave them to fend for themselves,â he dramatises.Â
âYes, you could!â Your voice comes out louder than you expected, eyes wide as you realise what heâs doing to himself. âYou barely look human and itâs only the midterm.â
âWhatâre you trying to say?â
âI donât know if this job is really worth as much as you think it is.â
Mingyuâs jaw is clenched, fists tight as he releases them to grip paper weight on the desk, knuckles white. âI canât get anywhere if I donâtââ
âMingyu, please. This isnât good for you.â
He says your name. Declarative, almost like a warning. âIf you think this job isnât worth it then you just donât know.â
âMingyuââ
âNo, you donât, because Iâve seen how good of a job Iâve been doing.â
âYou have, youâve been amazing butââ
Mingyuâs own voice is raised, a hard impenetrable floor to the words he spills. âThen whatâs the problem?â
âHave you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You look like a corpse!â
And then heâs getting out of his chair with so much force it almost knocks it backwards, âWhy on earth do you care so much? So what if I look like a corpse, if Iâm doing my job?âÂ
It mightâve been better if he knocked the chair right into you, your breath dissipating in your chest like it never existed. His face is morphed in an expression of exasperation your anxieties fear the most, every line on his face committed to irritation and anger.Â
Why on earth do you care so much?
Right. Why do you?Â
âAre you asking me that?â
âWhat?â
âAre you asking me why I care?âÂ
Mingyu only sighs, shoulders dropping and eyes closed. Like so many times before, you watch run a hand through his hair, except this time he yanks on the strands harder than ever before.Â
His eyes are bloodshot.Â
âI have to get the exam pack.â
Marching out the door in front of your own eyes, youâre left with a feeling thatâs right in the back of your throat, curling and whirling into something you wish you could hack and gag out. Gripping the corner of the professorâs desk, you feel the peeling wood cut into your skin.Â
Thereâs a draft, the delayed slam of the door has only hit its wind now, a delayed reaction. Itâs like it registers in your mind as you feel strands of your hair shift, the clarity that comes with it.
Delusive. Chimeric. Cruel.
Everything youâd subjected upon yourself. A whimsical fantasy between pages of logic and numbers, a story that simply didnât fit where the laws wouldnât allow it.Â
The null hypothesis of your most elaborate nightmares.
Monday
Your favourite commonplace box, where your mother once placed all her most prized jewels, had a finicky latch.Â
It wasnât broken, simply worn in from years of opening and closing. It took a few tries to get it shut. Simply pressing down with pressure didnât work; you had to open it again, press down on the individual elements of the latch and then try again.Â
You were never satisfied until you heard the distinct click of the latch fixing itself, the box closed and ready for you to hook your lock through.
Earlier on in your undergraduate career, you remember a professor talking about the effects of external factors on the mind, how they can sometimes cause it to âshut downâ when overwhelmed or stressed.Â
Itâs happened to you on many a occasion; like when you stayed up too late on a school night to watch a documentary about the Stanford prison experiment, or when youâd neglect food or water on busier days, or when youâd stop paying attention in class because you were too preoccupied thinking about Taco Tuesday.Â
Regardless, youâd found a way to recognise when your brain would fall into some strange kahoots with daydreams, or whatever was bothering you, and learned ways to give yourself a reset.Â
Pressuring and forcing the attention wouldnât work, just like how the latch wouldnât fit when youâd do the same with your beloved old box. So youâd take a walk, drink something cold, spray yourself with a garden hose, or even take a nap altogether. Opening yourself up, so the latch can finally click.Â
On the morning of your midterm, when youâd ensured your brain was in optimal condition for the exam you knew would be one of the worse ones youâll have to take, you were sure the only external force that could ruin your vibe was from God himself.Â
Having been so preoccupied with your mind and its functions, youâd seemed to have forgotten where your heart had wandered off to.Â
Somebody else might consider it a minor disagreement; an anxious squabble if you will. But your breakfast in your throat was enough reason to deem what happened that morning much more than that. At least for you.Â
âPass it on, pleaseâŠpass it on, please.â
The sound of his voice is tectonic. Rattling in your head like a superior force had slammed into your skull like a padded hammer to a gong.Â
You hated it. You hated everything. You hated yourself. And as the midterm paper reaches you with your pen in your clawed fingers, the first three questions already making perfect sense, you realise you hated Kim Mingyu the most.Â
That was a lie. You were lying to yourself, yet again.Â
Because it was quite the opposite. You couldnât hate him.Â
As you drift past every question of conditional experiments and screenshots of data and tables on a software, you hardly remember what you circle and what you donât. Hardly remember what words you picked for the short answers and labels. You hardly remember taking the steps down from your seat to the front of the room, where the professor sat scrolling through his Skateboarders [!MEN ONLY!] facebook group, placing your paper down and leaving the classroom.Â
Throughout your years of living, youâd learned what you needed to get your brain out of its clouded muffle, to refocus when you needed it.Â
Everything. You tried everything.Â
But on that day, when it mattered most, your latch never clicked.
Itâs Wednesday.Â
You order lunch from the Italian place a few streets down. Ravioli; itâs safe and you know youâll like it.Â
Savouring it is easy in front of another true crime show. You pull a lone soft drink from your fridge, one that your friend left weeks ago. It tastes just as bad as the last time you tasted it from someone elseâs cup, but you drink it anyway, the empty can now in your trash.Â
Itâs 3:30 PM, and you sit at your desk. Itâs strange. It feels like youâre missing something, which in ways, you are. But as you pull your laptop from your nightstand instead of out of your bag, you slow your movements.Â
The papers are the same. But you read them anyway.Â
Parameter estimation: Make inferences on characteristics of the population, including distributions of the variables and the effect of one variable over another.Â
Itâs accursed the way the universe wonât let you live.Â
Thereâs a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, estimation cannot be perfect.Â
Estimation cannot be perfect.Â
[_]
Itâs Thursday
Class. Eat. Drink. Work.
Hypothesis testing: Determine whether null hypothesis is rejected or not after data observation.Â
Thereâs a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, no null hypothesis in bayesian approach!!
[_]
Itâs Friday
Eat. Drink. Work.
Latent means to have meaning but is yet to be manifested. The greek letters are placeholder values for values yet unknown.Â
Thereâs a scribble in the corner in a dark blue; values that you will find out
[_]
Itâs Saturday
Eat. Drink. Work.
P(A|B) = [P(B|A)P(A)
              ââââââ
                     P(B)
Thereâs a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;
 it gets less complicated
 promise :/Â
[_]
Itâs Sunday.
Eat. Drink. Work.
The page is blurry. Your eyes hurt.Â
Thereâs a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;
youâve got this!!! < 3
You give up.
Itâs Monday.
8:14 AM.Â
You barely glance at the front of the room; swift turn to the left and right up the steps. Dr. Choâs outfit almost goes unnoticed by you, tamer than most. Bright Barbie pink with large polka dots, untucked into too tight white jeans. His crocs are sparkly, at least thatâs what the twinkle from up here looks like.Â
Heâs insulting another author, the manâs ProQuest journal article open for the world to see like a mediaeval scandal.Â
Thereâs another person next to the whiteboards, back to the wall, hands clasped in front of him. His hair is messy, shooting lasers into the carpet as he rocks the slightest bit, listening to the professor rip this author to shreds.Â
An hour later, youâre staring into the JASP software like it was written in a different language.Â
Glancing next to you, the boy in the spongebob hoodie is playing sharkboy and lavagirl by himself. On your other side, the girl has the same thing as you open on her laptop, her pen occupied with drawing about a hundred tiny gojos on a bright pink sticky note.Â
Bright pink sticky note.Â
You snap your gaze back to your screen quickly after that.Â
9:58 AM. You start packing up, shoving everything into your bag.Â
Dr. Cho doesnât even notice you slip out of the room, hardly a minute to the end of the lecture.
In the hallway, you take your first real breath in two hours.Â
Itâs Tuesday.
Youâve come down with something, head heavy as you feel yourself burn up. Skipping class is easy when you sleep through your alarm and every phone call from a friend asking where you are.Â
They drop by, armed with medicine and soup. You almost feel better.Â
Itâs silent after they leave, and you realise in that moment how much you hate it.Â
Opening your laptop for the first time in over 24 hours, you turn on a random podcast to play in the background, needing something to fill the air before you lose it entirely.Â
The screen lands right where you left on the incredulous data presentation, unsolved tutorial paper crumpled between the screen and keyboard like a wilted leaf.Â
Hot, scalding tears sting your eyeballs when you realise there was nowhere to turn to.
Itâs Wednesday.
After a long day of doing nothing, still sick from whatever plagued your body, you go to bed earlier than usual.
Itâs Thursday.Â
Walking out of class, your mind is empty. Youâre still sniffling, still achey, but better than you were. The shawl wrapped around you is warm, and your hood covers the cold tips of your ears.Â
This other class makes you feel better about yourself, especially when the content is digestible and so is the professor. The TA feels like a mere accessory in the room, something youâve learned to appreciate.Â
With your gaze lowered, you only see midriffs as you walk out the classroom into the busy hallway.Â
It happens in an instant, the flash of a clenched hand as the owner walks by in quick stride. An unmistakable leather strap watch with a broken clock face on the wrist.
You freeze like youâve been caught.Â
The hard bump of someone coming out the room behind you is welcomed, the annoyed âHey!â knocking you back to earth before you could even exit the dimension.Â
Youâre off centre. But itâs fine.Â
Itâs Monday.
âMidterm results are out Tuesday morning. If you have any questions Iâll be sitting at office hours on Wednesday and Thursday, four to six in the evening. Or you could send me an email, eitherâs fine.â
Dr. Cho isnât here. Something you only found out when the pitt sank in your stomach as Mingyu cleared his throat at the full hour.Â
You want to leave, not caring about how strange itâd look if you did. Not caring about how he would definitely notice if you did. You want him to shut up, to stop talking, for anything to halt the way his voice infiltrates your entire being, talking about things you donât understand but more familiar than anything else.Â
Mingyuâs voice is hoarse, and you loathe the way you can tell the difference.Â
Itâs Tuesday.
Midterm Results for Statistics in Psychological Research.
â 92/100
Itâs Wednesday.Â
4:10 PM. Itâs almost too much for you. Almost.Â
The screech of the door is loud, the slam of the handleâs rebound even more so. The room doesnât so much as glance at you at the door, the half full seats preoccupied with more important things.Â
The front desk perks up immediately, eyes shooting towards the door for the nth time that day, like he was expecting someone that never seemed to show up.Â
Itâs ironic, you think, how Mingyu never seemed to notice you walk into the room for the many months youâve walked in just for him. And now, as you walk in fists clenched and jaw set, eyes wild and burning, heâs breaking away from a student to look at the door before you even come into view.Â
âDid you feel bad?â you spit.
âWhat?â he whispers. He seems to come around, glancing back before continuing, âCan we talk? Please.â
âAnswer the question, Mingyu,â you snap. You donât care thereâs a confused student sitting right across from the both of you, his slot interrupted by your barge. âDid you feel so bad you had to give me something I didnât earn?â
Heâs stood up now, half confused. âIs this about the midtermââ
âI did not get a ninety two, I know I didnât,â you grit. âWhatever happened before that stupid paper made sure I wouldnât.â
Mingyu says your name and the sound makes you want to vomit. âWhat makes you think Iâd do something like that?â
âI donât know, maybe because I fucked up because of you?â you announce, louder than before.Â
The world disappeared, your tunnel vision pointed at Mingyuâs face that wears an expression you cannot even begin to read. The unbecoming tears in your eyes are of a type of unadulterated rage youâve felt only a few times before. Your heart is going about a million miles a breath, everything else only triggering an added bout of infuriated tremble in the forefront of your emotions. Nothing makes sense.Â
Mingyu pushes back his chair in silence, stalking over to a large cupboard in the corner of the room. He shuffles around for a minute before returning.Â
Thereâs a packet being thrust into your fists when he reaches you. He does not meet your eyes.Â
A bright red 92/100 marks the front page.
âHere. It was all you, if you canât believe me.â
Itâs a careful mark, unmistakable lines and curves of the nine and the two.Â
Reality is slow to sink in, but for some reason itâs only making you angrier. The paper curls under the pressure of your fingertips. You donât open the packet. You refuse to flick through the pages.Â
Because you know youâve lost.
Itâs Thursday. And itâs full of regret.Â
Thereâs a sickness in you, from that dreaded day, something beyond what affects your body temperature and your energy. Itâs in your mind, flooding the nerves that swim through every crevice and cave of your brain, a physical venom that does the opposite of kill but also the opposite of letting you live.Â
Thereâs a feeling in you, that even if you were to open your mouth, unhinge your jaw, try to scream as loud as your throat would allow, there would be no sound. Something like a horrible dream, that you need to screw your eyes tight shut to fall out of. Except you arenât waking up from this one.Â
In a coffee shop, where Mingyu held your hand in a reassurance you now bleed for, you were sure he was real. Real like some deiform image; too good to be true.Â
In your bed, dry tears on your face, midterm packet sifted through that showed you absolutely everything that you did right, thanks to him. He feels too real. Real like a cloud of obsidian that follows you everywhere, like the sad thatâs been sleeping with you every night.Â
If there was a way to hate someone more than a human limit, youâve crossed it with the resentment youâve now fostered for yourself.Â
Barging into office hours like that, accusing him on a basis of nothing but your own dangerously stewed thoughts. If there was a hope of salvaged parts, you took a hammer to it in disregard; tearing it to ribbons that lay at your feet.Â
Itâs Friday.
At least it was. It bled into Saturday before you realised the 3:23 AM on the dial.Â
Two weeks of no help and you already feel lightyears behind. The hour is getting to you, and you feel the frustration pool into tears, that turn into full fledged sobs. Youâre crying over Bayesian inference and itâs somehow more pressing than any other emotion youâve ever felt.Â
Impossible numbers on your data sheets taunt you, not a single reference to if it was a button you clicked wrong or if you were playing a foolâs game altogether.Â
Ding! You pick up your phone, the weight of it is enough gravity to pull you back to earth.Â
[Mingyu]: switch to bF10Â
[Mingyu]: youâve been pulling numbers from bF01
Itâs immediate the way your eyes dart towards your lit screen, clicking off tables to get to the drop down menu you need. And there on the left, two tiny buttons, one clicked on bF01.Â
With shaking fingers, you move your cursor to hover over the tiny bF10, anticipating. You click. It takes a moment for the numbers to change, but they do. The nominal values turn into something you can actually work with.Â
Something akin to a tut leaves you, hidden in the breath of another sob. Itâs stupid, unreasonable, absurd. Your fingers hover over your phone, shaking as tears drop onto the screen, faster than before.Â
Do you not miss me?
Do you not want me around?
Talk to me
I miss you
Please talk to me
âI couldnâtâcanâtâstand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know itâs not true.â
Mingyu is a product of his personality. You can only imagine heâs helped because he saw you struggling in class, heard from someone else, or perhaps, he just knew the very thing youâd make blunders out of.Â
The reasons come to you, that Mingyu is a product of his personality. Then why does it hurt? Why does it feel like the knifeâs twisted a full 360, that despite the way you accused him of the thing that would strip him of everything heâs bruised himself for, he helps you. The very thing that caused this rift in the first place.Â
Thereâs a reason for that, and it is again, that Mingyu is a product of his personality.Â
Itâs Saturday.Â
Perhaps you relied on your olfactory senses to remain calm, because you always knew you could count on a coffee shop to forever and always smell the same.Â
The universe seems to want to ruin that for you too.Â
âLatte, please,â you voice. âIced.â
âWe have a one plus one for the week! Would you like to receive another latte?â The lady taking your order looks no older than 17, a pep in her voice.Â
âUm, no thank you. Just one, please.â
She looks taken aback, a reasonable reaction to anyone turning down a free drink. But you couldnât bring yourself to walk home with two cups in hand.Â
Youâre plucking a napkin from the pickup counter when you hear his name.Â
â...that he manipulated her grade because they were hooking up.âÂ
âHe has time to hook up?â
âI remember hearing about that! She barged in during office hours and asked why he fixed her grade or something.âÂ
âA ninety two? In that class? Oh, they were definitely fooling around with each other.â
âWhatever, at least we know heâll entertain you if he likes you enough. Iâm just glad those two are over so I can swoop in.â
Thereâs an eruption of giggles. You press your head down further.Â
âUnless he flirts in variables.â
âAll is forgiven when youâre born with a face like that.âÂ
Another explosion of giddy laughter, through which your drink is slid across the counter towards you, like it was waiting for you to hear the damning evidence before you could leave. You grab it anyway, grip tighter than usual.Â
Turning around, your eyes search, finding a group of people that sit in smiles and in various states of trust-falls.Â
There she is, the girl you sat with on the first day you attended office hours, the one with the glitter gel pen doodles on her notes and her blatant fawns over the TA you slipped under just as easily.Â
She locks eyes with you and her face falls, eyes widening the slightest bit in recognition.Â
Pressing your lips into a smile, you hope it doesnât look as menacing as you feel. You donât wait for a response before you walk out the large glass doors.
Itâs Sunday.
It seems every sip of water youâve taken during the week has been used up in all the tears youâve seemed to be shedding. By the bucketload.
Alas, even blurry and puffy eyed, you pour over statistical formulas anyway, running on no energy and all antagonism. Itâs another tutorial sheet left incomplete, a single question taking a pour that lasts in at least an hour of struggle.Â
Reading the same question for the nth time, your palms press into your temples as you stare lasers into the paper, like the revelation would come to you if you stared it down hard enough. It doesnât make sense, the commands youâve toggled on and off identical to the instructions on the page.Â
Hence the question begs why the data was coming out like someone pressed the ultimate on a number generator.Â
With a heat of unreasonable embarrassment, you find yourself checking your selection in one of the drop down menus, switching to bF01 and back just to see the difference. It does nothing to help, and you canât help but feel a little relieved it wasnât that particular snag.Â
The library is as silent as it could possibly be on a Sunday morning, near empty as you occupy the mostly vacant seats. The librarian is having her own day off, as you could swear sheâs playing computer games behind the counter instead of actual work.Â
The only noise in the room is your own breathing, and that seems to be enough to mess with your concentration. Youâre going cross eyed staring at the page for so long, the words doubling and disappearing before going back to normal.Â
Itâs like you can see it in front of your eyes right now, the scribble of someone elseâs dark blue on your notes.
no null hypothesis in bayesian approach
Bayesian approaches donât use null hypotheses. And z scores are inâŠ
âOh my god, this is a t test,â you whisper to yourself in disbelief. Immediately, youâre scrambling to shake your laptop out of its sleep, switching over to a t test to redo everything, following the instructions on the same data set.Â
And there it wasâŠa clear 0.067 under the p value.Â
In a moment of questioning, you laugh out a breathy sound, the absurdity of it all becoming too real. T tests were the first thing you learned, the foundation to all your statistical knowledge. Coming so far, and it took you days to realise the instructions under a Bayesian approach were for a different realm entirely.Â
It was stupid of you. But in this difficult aftermath you canât help but feel victorious. Laughing to yourself quietly in this empty library.Â
When the initial adrenaline fades and youâve double, triple checked to ensure you were right, you can only stare at the tiny mail button in your shortcuts on the screen. It was clearly an error, one that was given out to nearly a hundred students.Â
The first step was clicking, your inbox coming to life as you drift towards the big blue button with the readily available NEW MAIL. So you click.Â
Thereâs an attached file in the email you draft.Â
The tutorial paper has titled t test instructions as a Bayesian approach. Just wanted to point it out and ask if I could receive a corrected version.Â
Regards, YN
Itâs almost like youâre trying to remember how it feels like when you type an experimental m in the To bar. His name pops up immediately, email address typed out in full, full name clear on top as a regular contact.Â
You donât need a suggestion to remember, his email came easier to you than your own.Â
But you donât email him, backspacing till itâs empty once again.Â
Dr. Choâs email sits in that place instead, a first for you.Â
SEND.
You donât expect him to reply on a Sunday, in fact, you arenât sure if heâs going to respond at all. Youâve already shut your laptop, half out of your seat in an attempt to pack up. Youâre forced to consider.Â
Would it be terrible to go back and cc him as well?Â
A spiteful part of you might find joy in correcting him for a change. The rational part of you wants to actually finish the tutorial before tomorrowâs class when youâd have to tackle another beast for the rest of the week.Â
Sitting back down, you move without thinking. Your mind is still cooking up possibilities as you swing your screen open once again, still weighing as you click back into your inbox.Â
Thereâs a new email in your sent box after youâre done, a copy of the one you sent your professor, the same attachment and the same question; word for word. The only difference, a more familiar name in the address bar.Â
Before you can chicken out, you slam your laptop shut for the actual last time, shoving everything into your bag before the speeding thoughts can infiltrate your mind's barrier. Youâre out the door before you know it, ready to be done with this.Â
Youâre afraid if you put a hand to your stomach itâd be met with kicks and punches, especially with the way you feel the aggressive cartwheels slashing away at your insides. The butterflies are making it to the end of your food pipe, and you briefly wonder if you need to break into a sprint to make it to a safe throwing up zone. Your entire being jolts as you feel a buzz in your hands, a loud click that signifies a new email in your inbox.Â
Right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, you stop.Â
The grip you have on your phone is unyielding, your fingers beginning to hurt from the pressure. Thereâs no way to tell if youâre shaking or not, but you bring your phone to your face anyway. The screen flips on, a lone notification on the screen.Â
RE: Tutorial Error from Kim Mingyu
It couldnât have been more than ten minutes since you sent that email, the library still in sight from where you stand. At the same time, itâs almost funny you expected any different from him.Â
The kicks and punches in your stomach halt, the cartwheels have calmed, the butterflies have fallen asleep. The grip on your phone has loosened, and itâs like every nerve in your body went from on fire to serenity in a whiplash inducing shift.Â
Clicking on the notification, the email opens.Â
Noted. I have another tutorial sheet for you if you want it. Iâll be in the room where office hours are held for the rest of the morning.
Kim Mingyu, T.A.
There was no way he didnât have a softcopy he could send you in less than a minute, and youâre sure he knew youâd realise that too. You should scoff, be upset, roll your eyes.Â
But instead, you find your feet making a 180, turning around to go right back to where you came from. You walk, eyes still half trained on the email, reading and rereading as you walk back onto campus, towards the building youâd once considered a second home.Â
You walk, and walk and walk, in through the doors, up the stairs and then another set of them, you take a left and look up. The hallway is empty, the door on the right coming into view as you slow your steps significantly.Â
Closer and closer, you realise the light surrounding it is brighter than usual. The door is open, and you can see the empty rows of tables and chairs, set neatly against one another. Itâs strange, youâve never seen it wide open before.Â
Walking even closer, you can see the beginnings of the professorâs desk come into view, and it only takes you one more step forward.Â
Standing in the doorway now, you find yourself in the direct path of the sun that pours in through the open windows. Itâs warm, but just enough to combat the cooling weather.Â
The desk up front is occupied, as it always is.Â
Mingyu is only in a t-shirt and trousers, glasses perched on his nose as he scrawls away on the paper in front of him. His laptop is turned on, screen facing the door where you stand, his inbox open and available even on the weekend.Â
It wasnât that you were waiting for him to notice, but you found yourself inadvertently taking your time looking at him. Every other situation, youâd done your absolute best to avoid your eyes grazing over him at all costs, hardly drifting over his form before flitting away. You never did it on purpose, but it was more like you were unconsciously protecting yourself.
 Like looking at him would only make the ache in your heart worse.
If that was the case, you wouldâve been right. Thereâs a tug in your chest, and in that moment, it all comes flooding in like a gate destroyed.Â
Mingyu looks up and sees you in the doorway, standing immobile. He sets his pen down, taking his glasses off. Thereâs the smallest hint of a smile on his face as he greets you, ââMorning.â
You take it as your cue to move forward, stepping foot into the patch of sun slowly. ââMorning.â
You reach the desk, standing in front of him, the only thing blocking you being the littered table with files, papers and stationary; the trench between you both.Â
Itâs so silent it tears at your insides, gripping the strap of your bag to have something to do.Â
âI, uh, double checked when I saw the email. You were right, nobody noticed in class either.â Thereâs an airiness in his voice, like he might be struggling just as much as you are right now.Â
He clears his throat when you donât respond, looking back down at his workspace like he was looking for something. He finds a paper from some stack, handing it over to you.Â
âThanks,â you hoarse. Itâs the same tutorial you had, except the instructions had been crossed out, replaced by a list of handwritten instructions instead, detailed in their annotation. You recognise it, because of course youâd recognise his handwriting.Â
âI didnât have time to print one out right now. Iâll probably send a corrected copy to everyone tonight,â he explains.Â
âThatâs alright.â You look up, lips pressed together, eyebrows forced into a regular position on your face. Nodding, you thank him once again. âThanks again. IâllâŠget going.âÂ
Every fibre in your body screams at you to turn back around, hollering profanities at your inability to deal with this. Youâre already halfway to the door though, and your prideâs already deemed it too late.Â
Please stop me, please stop me, please stop me, please just say something and stop meâ
There it is. Your name, from his mouth, in his beautiful voice.Â
Turning back around is the easiest thing youâve ever done.Â
Mingyu has stood up from his seat, out from behind the desk. He looks like he wasnât expecting you to turn back. âCan we talk?âÂ
And then heâs pulling out the chair he was sitting on, presenting it like a piece offering. If you heard correctly, you couldâve sworn you heard his voice break the slightest bit when he pressed, âPlease?â
So there you were, in a position all too familiar as you sit across from the man thatâs haunted you for the past weeks, trying to keep your chest from falling in.Â
âI guess I should start with an apology,â heâs fidgeting with his own fingers. âI donât need to give you excuses about stress or exhaustion becauseâŠâ
He closes his eyes, trying to find the words. âI didnât mean to lash out at you. You were only trying to help and I was too preoccupied with myself to notice. Iâm sorry I spoke to you like that when you didnât deserve it.âÂ
For about the millionth time, you realise youâre tearing up again. He continues. âAnd thenâŠright before the midterm too. You were right, I did feel horrible. But I swear that grade was all you, I didnât touch those numbers.â
He really didnât, because the papers he had thrust into your hands on that fateful day in this very room proved that you earned that mark. You wince regardless.
âI thought I could apologise before the exam started but I couldnât find you, and then you were gone right after. I didnât text or call because I was sure Iâd fucked it all up.âÂ
âIâm sorry too. For barging in in front of everyone and basically accusing you. I wasnât thinking straight.â You look up from your lap, wet lashes and all. âI really hope you didnât get into any trouble.âÂ
âIâno, I didnât.â
âAre you sure? Becauseââ
âI promise I didnât.â He locked eyes with you when he said that, hoping youâd believe him. You nod slowly.Â
âIt wasnât even that bad, what you said,â you sniffled.Â
He scoffs at that, âIâd beg to differ.â
âI wouldâve gotten over it,â you continue, bracing yourself to admit to something youâve had trouble admitting to yourself. âI shouldâve gotten over it. I donât know why it hurt so much, why watching you walk out felt so horrible. But I havenât been acting like normal ever since, and Iâm sorry for stretching this whole fiasco out into something that didnât need to turn intoâŠthis!â
âYou were hurt because I hurt you.â
âPeople have said worse things to me. And you were practically a zombie, I shouldâve just left it for another time. It was a little bit my fault too. ButâŠyeah.â
Thereâs a silence as you try to remind yourself to breathe. You speak up again. âI just want us to go back to normal. Iâve missed you. Alot.â
âMe too. The go back to normal bit. And theâŠmissed you bit.â
Mingyuâs half smiling when you look up, biting your lip hard as you try to keep a smile of your own at bay. âIâd thought if I gave up and admitted I was struggling that day, thatâd be admitting defeat. That youâd think IâŠcouldnât do it.âÂ
Why on earth do you care so much? It rings in your ears.Â
You sound light when you say it though, knowing now it wasnât what he meant.âSince when are we on caring terms?âÂ
Mingyu cringes. "We are. I am, at least, if you aren't anymore, which is fine. I care about you. A lot."
Itâs hard to not let out a laugh. He looks half constipated as he tries to navigate his words.Â
âOh well Iâd hope youâd care, since youâre my TA and all.â
âNot in a TA way.â
âTutor way.â
âUm.â
âFriend way? A human way?âÂ
âNo.â
You both know youâre being obtuse on purpose, and you arenât sure why. Maybe you just like to watch him squirm.Â
âYou know what?â he rasps.Â
âWhat?â
Your answer comes in the form of Mingyu lurching to grab the legs of your chair, pulling the wheels to crash into him where he sits. Youâre not expecting it, the clashing legs causing you to swerve forward, hands on Mingyuâs lap.Â
And then his hand is on the back of your neck, and his lips placed on your own.Â
Youâre stiff as a board, brain computing the fact that Mingyu is kissing you in a classroom.Â
Itâs short, hardly a few moments before he pulls away. âDoes that clear things up?â
Thereâs nothing you can do but blink at him, the reality of it all settles in. âHm.â
He laughs at your half dazed state. Itâs a purely instinctual part of you that speaks after this. âMaybe one more time. To make sure.â
Mingyu doesnât even wait to laugh again as he wastes no time, putting his mouth on yours properly this time. Thereâs more of a drive in you this time, moving your mouth against his and he keeps your head close.Â
The ecstasy is slow but sure to build in your stomach. Mingyu is kissing you. Mingyu is sitting with you and kissing you so good youâre already half faint.Â
His mouth tastes like coffee and remnants of berry, a combination you canât believe you could enjoy this much. Licking into his mouth, you let your tongue drag over his, like the tactile would convince you this wasnât some too vivid fever dream.Â
He pulls away for a moment, but hardly so as his lips remain pressed onto yours.Â
âFor the record,â he pants. âI love that you care. And I hope youâll keep caring. Because I donât think I can handle it if you walk away after this.â
Mouth back on his own, you decide thereâs only one way to convince him you werenât going anywhere without dragging him with you.Â
MINGYU'S APARTMENT IS CLEANER than you expected. You arenât sure what you were expecting, perhaps more mad scientist than anything else. But the most you find is a mug and plate in the sink, and a moderately crowded study desk, which is to be expected.Â
Mingyu decided to abandon his work for the day to spend it with you, to which you contest that it was Sunday anyway. His response is making you change into something comfortable of his so you could laze on his couch.Â
Like you would run away if he didnât, Mingyu keeps his arms around you in a tight hold, fingers curling around your shoulders as you lay on top of him. Your head rests directly over his heart, his cheek and lips taking turns to occupy the top of your head. Â
You fill him in on everything, and realise the most eventful weeks youâve spent were actually quite uneventful in hindsight. He feels up your cheek and forehead when you tell him you got sick at one point, to which you have to reassure him it was either something going around or stress that you subjected on yourself.Â
âI went to a frat party,â Mingyu mumbles into your forehead. âFor Halloween.â
The information has you shifting to look up at him in bewilderment, âYou went to a frat party?â
He snorts, âDressed up for it too.â
âOh my god,â you voice in mild horror. âDo I wanna know?âÂ
âWonwoo and I matched,â he hums as he pulls out his phone, scrolling his gallery to look for pictures. âI was Mario, he was Luigi.â
âHow adorable.â
He only gives you a look and shoves the phone in your face. By some grace of god they arenât wearing moustaches, but the distinct red and green outfits are enough to give you enough recognition.Â
âThing 1 and Thing 2 were also possible contenders,â he informs.Â
âThat mightâve been a little better.â
âWhatâs wrong with Mario?â he asks sharply.
âNothing. But I do hope you werenât sporting an Italian accent throughout that.âÂ
âI was,â he pushes. âA horrible one too.â
You give him the satisfaction of an eye roll.Â
âYou couldâve gone as Peach. We couldâve matched.âÂ
âI donât know if Iâd wanna wear any available Peach costumes during Halloween time.â You crinkle your nose as you think of all the racy costumes that unearth every October.Â
âMaybe in private,â he says with an insufferable smile on his face.Â
Placing your hands flat on his chest, you rest your chin and look up at him. âIâm not sure I want to interrupt whatever you two have going on.âÂ
âWho?â
âYou and Wonwoo, youâre practically married.â
Mingyu laughs out loud, and you can feel the rumble in his chest against your hands, his body moving against your own thatâs stuck to him. âNot with whatever he has going on with his girl.â
âOh right,â you frown in remembrance. âWhat happened to not understanding how he does it?âÂ
âHm?â
âHeâs a TA too. Probably just as busy as you. You said you didnât know how he could juggle a relationship and his job at the same time.â
His eyes spark in remembrance, pausing for a moment. âI may owe him an apology.â
âDo you?â
Mingyu frowns, âActually no I donât. I donât think he and his lady are doing too well right now. Heâs been insufferable lately.â
âIs it because of the TA-ing?â
âI never know with those two,â he sighs.
Thereâs silence once again, in the midst of which Mingyu leans over to kiss you a few times, soft and lingering. Like heâs trying to familiarise himself with the shape of your mouth, the tactile feeling of kissing you.Â
âDo youâŠknow about us?â Thereâs hesitancy in the way you ask. But you canât help but ask anyway.
Mingyu thinks for a moment, and it has your heart beating out of your chest. âI know that I want us to be concrete. That I wanna work around whatever life throws at us. You can decide what to call it, but I know Iâm in it for the long run.â
âIâm glad youâre smarter than your husband,â you smile.
He only rolls his eyes, âHeâs only good at one kind of chemistry.âÂ
âDâyou think theyâll be okay?â
âOh yeah,â he assures. âTheyâre just going through aâŠrough patch.â
âLike we did?â
âIf youâre asking me, Iâd say theyâre being a little more stupid about it.â
The snort that leaves you is unanimous with his own. He continues, âTheyâll be okay though.â
âI hope so. Iâd like to go on double dates with my boyfriendâs husbandâs girlfriend.â You start giggling in the middle of your sentence, too ridiculous even for you to voice.Â
âThis is getting weird,â Mingyu breathes.Â
You only hum against his mouth, âDo I have to take your husband's blessing before we can move forward?â
âFor fuckâs sake.âÂ
Youâre both laughing again, a sound that comes from your stomachs, true and uncontrollable. For a moment, you canât help but be conscious of how light you feel, how happy you feel with his scent infiltrating your nostrils, his presence known where his fingertips touch you.Â
âI did the sticky note thing again too,â Mingyu says into the silence, and thereâs nothing you can do to stop the fit of giggles that erupt all over again.Â
âSaid something worse this time,â he continues as you laugh into his chest. âAccept that youâll die alone or some other shit like that.âÂ
Thereâs comfort in this moment. In your giggles and in your tears, in his voice and in his affection. His lips are another sanctuary youâve found, and perhaps even another way to make your dreaded latch click.Â
Nose nuzzled in his cheek, the feeling of his skin so soft against yours, fingers at his chin where a slight stubble grows, you relax in ways you cannot comprehend.Â
MINGYU'S LIPS BECOME A feeling youâve grown dangerously accustomed to.Â
It isnât that he has them on you too much, regardless of what an outsider might suggest; to you they simply arenât on you enough.Â
The following Monday went as usual, for you anyway. You werenât avoiding Mingyu this time, and you were grateful for it. It was two hours of following him with your eyes as he darted around the room. You could hardly constitute it as not paying attention when Dr. Cho was preoccupied with explaining every reason he hates JASP over SPSS, but also ultimately, hates them both.Â
You donât even notice his loud outfit (overalls and a neon green sweater underneath), happy to watch Mingyu flit about and whisper incoherent explanations to students.Â
The tutorial paper is barely looked at by you, because you know your boyfriend will be happy to help you out later at his place.Â
Youâre barely through the door that night when he gets a hold of you, tight grip across your waist as youâre catapulted into his arms, door slammed shut behind you.Â
Bag still on your shoulders and your shoes still on, Mingyuâs slammed his mouth onto yours before you can take a proper breath. You stumble, squealing through the kiss as you realise you arenât escaping the iron grip heâs got on your face.Â
Somehow between it all, you manage to slip your bag off to let it drop to the floor of his doorway, shoes kicked off one after the other as he leads you inside, littering the way.Â
âYou arenât actually paying attention in class anyway,â he breathes against your mouth before kissing you again. âSo why donât you sit in the back where you donât distract me.â
âWho says Iâm not paying attention.â You open your as your back lands on the couch, looking at him as he looms overhead.Â
âYouâre paying attention to me.â
âIt was in my job description when I signed up for the girlfriend position.â
Heâs all over you now, hands at your sides, mouth underneath your earlobes as he husks, âWas letting me take you in front of the entire class also a clause? Because if this goes on I might have to take up on that.â
If you didnât know any better you wouldâve assumed heâd been possessed, everything about his behaviour screaming the opposite of the well behaved, restrained man youâve been accustomed to. The fact that heâs whispering directly into your ears isnât helping either, a conspicuous shiver dragging across your spine.Â
It lands with precision, right at your core. Youâre too hot to tell, but there isnât a doubt youâve begun to pool.Â
Thereâs a ding in the background.Â
Heâs suckling underneath your ear, his hands roaming in ways that would smear your reputation altogether.Â
Another ding.Â
Heâs reached your mouth once again, groping your right breast lightly. Like heâs testing the waters.
Ding.Â
Mingyu makes a noise of annoyance, the other hand trailing underneath your shirt.Â
His ringtone blares throughout the room, whoever the caller was having reached witâs end.Â
âGyuâŠâ you whisper.Â
âIgnore it,â he growls. The ringing has stopped.Â
He ducks underneath to kiss at your stomach, lifting your shirt oh so slowly. He goes higher, and higher and higher, leaving a trail of kisses at the skin, taking deep breaths as he drags his mouth over your torso.Â
His phone begins to ring again.Â
Your head is spinning, your senses overcome. If you werenât sure before, the air of wetness between your legs is definitely obvious now.Â
He brings a hand to your centre, pushing inwards at your jean clad core. You exhale sharply yet shakily.Â
The ringing stops.Â
Mingyu makes a gumbled sound that you canât quite make out, too preoccupied with the way your shirt is now up past your bra, at which Mingyu has taken to leaving open mouthed kisses to your cleavage.Â
Thereâs a ding.Â
âMingyu, I really thinkââ
His phone begins to ring again.Â
âOh for fuckâs sake,â he curses, rearing his head like an interrupted animal, wet mouthed and bleary eyed. He looks at his buzzing phone on the floor in an accusatory glare, like he wants to chuck it out the window and go right back to burrowing into your chest.Â
âYou should answer.âÂ
He looks irritated as he takes his phone in his hands, and you find a flash of Dr. Choâs name on the screen. âItâs eleven Oâclock.âÂ
âIt might be important.â
âThe last time he did this he asked where his peacock feather pen was,â he grunts as he silences his phone.Â
You laugh, running a soothing hand through Mingyuâs hair, a tiny attempt to calm him down. Pulling your shirt down, you attempt to sit up.Â
Mingyu makes a noise of denial, attempting to stick his face into your now clothed chest, knocking you back down, âNooooo, Iâm gonna ignore him.â
âHeâs not going to leave you alone,â you sing quietly, running your nails across his scalp lightly, holding his head to your chest. You place your cheek on his head, playing with his ear.Â
As if to prove your point, Mingyuâs phone begins to ring again, and he groans at the prospect.Â
âGo on.â
He swipes to answer it. A loud sigh and then a tired, âHello?â
His volume is bumped up enough for you to make out whatâs being said on the other line. âWhere have you been?â
âItâs nearly eleven, sir. I was in bed.â
âMy flash drive wonât open up on my computer.â
You have to stifle a snort.Â
âIs itâŠplugged in?â
âOf course it is, Iâm not an idiot.â
âIs it showing up on your files?â
âDiskâŠis notâŠformatted.â
âErm, it might be corrupted.â
âHow did that happen?â
âDid you download something off the internet onto it?â
âHardly matters, I need the attendance sheet on it!â
Your fingers are massaging Mingyuâs temples as you feel him tense on top of you.Â
âYour attendance sheet is on the teacherâs portal,â Mingyu grits before adding, âsir.â
â...I have other things on there too.â
Mingyu exhales ever so quietly and you tighten your hold on him a smidge. âThis sounds like something tech support could help with.â
âWhy canât you help?â he asks sharply.Â
âIâŠI donât know how, sir.â
Thereâs a noise of indignation from the other end, and you canât help but keep from laughing.Â
Mingyu sighs into the phone, this time doing nothing to hide it. âIâll take it to tech support for you tomorrow. And Iâll send you a direct link for the attendance sheet for Monday and Tuesdayâs classes.â
The line beeps shut. Mingyu brings the phone for you both to see the professorâs hung up as soon as the words left Mingyuâs mouth.Â
âWow,â you whisper into the silence, the weight of Mingyuâs head heavier on your chest. âNot even a thank you.â
âAbsent father behaviour,â Mingyu grumbles as he moves his face to burrow into your shirt.Â
Itâs a bad joke, but you laugh anyway.Â
âWill I be an asshole if I say Iâm not in the mood anymore?â he murmurs.Â
âAbsolutely not. Everything sucked right back in the minute I heard his voice on the line.â
âGross,â he comments, but heâs laughing too.Â
âShould we call it a night?â he asks, rearing his head.Â
Nodding, you rise with him. By the time youâve reached the bedroom, youâve already begun taking off your accessories, fiddling with your bracelet as you voice.Â
âI need a shower.â
Mingyu throws you a towel and a t-shirt, which you catch and move towards the bathroom. Halfway through the door, you sneak a look at him fiddling with his belt.Â
âDo you wanna come in too?âÂ
Mingyu looks at you peering through the door frame. Youâve never seen anyone leap across the room as quickly as in that moment.Â
THE FOLLOWING DAYS WERE just as eventful as that phone call, Mingyu running around as the midterm low passed and the line creeped up towards finals season.Â
Perhaps it was better that you stopped attending office hours, because the room seems to become increasingly packed as the days progressed.Â
You only ever saw Mingyu in the wee hours of the night at his place, where he begged you to camp out till the end of the semester so he âdoesnât move to insanityâ. It might even be better for you, going about your day as usual, without the usual added distraction of a partner.
Coming home to him was easier, where he could clear up your doubts while in ratty pyjamas and starfished across the bed, where you could find solace in Mingyuâs chest without prying eyes when the information became like filling an already stuffed junk drawer.Â
It was a Friday night, youâre alone at Mingyuâs place sitting cross legged on the floor. The table in front of you is pouring over the final question of this weekâs tutorial paper, everything seemingly whizzing right past the top of your head.Â
Despite that, as Mingyu stumbles inside past eleven, you know you shouldnât ask him for a thing.Â
Tired was a look on Mingyu youâd gotten quite used to, so youâve learned to not comment and simply let him fall into the couch cushions with all his weight.Â
His face is parallel to yours as he closes his eyes with a light groan in greeting. Moving forward, you kiss the flutter of his eyelids softly, down to the apple of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth.Â
Your fingers run through his tangled and distressed hair as he mumbles against your mouth. âDid you finish the tutorial paper?â
You huff in mild annoyance, that despite his state he still thinks about work. âNot yet. One last question and Iâm done.â
He hums and waits a moment before reopening his eyes. With a loud groan heâs pushing himself off the couch, sliding off of it to sit with you on the uncomfortable floor. âAlright, letâs get this over with.â
âI can figure it out myself, Gyu.â
âYou wouldâve been done by now if you could,â he answers. Itâs annoying that he says it but heâs also right.Â
Mingyu holds the paper a mere inch from his eyes, the sight almost comical if he also didnât look an inch from passing out.Â
He mumbles the question as he reads, âItâs nothing, just worded weird. Toggle this off and move this to mixed factors and youâre done.â
The toggles are done for you, and Mingyu takes the liberty crossing he question off with a pen he finds on the table.Â
âDid you get everything else?â he asks in earnest.Â
âHm? I think so.âÂ
âGood.â And then heâs throwing his head back to rest it on the couch cushions behind him, breathing slowly.Â
Heâs in a navy sweater, collar of his undershirt peeking through the top. Your gaze leads up further, to the exposed area of his throatâclean, tan and naked. You realise this might not be a good time, but itâs only natural your mind cooks up other ways to translate your helplessness as you watch your boyfriend push himself to the brink. Release is never a bad idea.Â
Besides, itâs a Friday night. No reason to not.Â
âGyu,â you shuffle closer.Â
Lolling his head to look over at you, he answers in a small voice, âYeah?âÂ
You put on the guiltiest face you can muster, complete with darting eyes and fidgeting fingers. âDâyou thinkâŠdâyou think you can go over post hoc tests again?â
âPost hoc?â He furrowed his eyebrows. You bite the inside of your cheek, having blurted the first plausible model you could think of to ask him. Itâs an older bit of the syllabus, something you should already be well versed in.Â
Not that you care what he thinks right now, heâd figure out why you were asking anyway.Â
âPost hoc, um,â he rubs a hand over his face as if to jog his memory.Â
Shifting forward, you plaster you front onto his side. He thinks nothing of it.Â
âAnalysis tool after youâve already run the data,â he begins.Â
Placing your chin on his shoulder, you let your nose nuzzle against his cheek. Trailing up, your lips find the shell of his ear.Â
âResults have to beâŠthey have to beâŠâ He falters when your hand reaches his front, running across the expanse of his clothes stomach, nails digging ever so slightly as you reach his abdomen. You continue to place open mouthed kisses at the space of neck you can reach.Â
âHm? Has to be what?â
âStatistically significant,â he breathes when your palms reach the tops of his thighs. âTo run a post hoc test.â
His trousers are less barrier inducing than regular jeans, something youâre both grateful for as you begin to palm his clothed bulge. âResults of what, baby?â
âFor the love ofââ
âGo on,â you whisper in his ear. âPlease.â
One flick and his trousers are unbutton, pulling them aside as the zipper pulls open. You're pushing down his boxers when he answers you. âANOVA.âÂ
âWhatâs that again?â
âYou little shit.â
You move your mouth forward to kiss him.
âAnalysis of variance.âÂ
You hum against the column of his throat at that, his half hard member in your hands. Light touches, thatâs all they are, running the pads of your fingers across the pulsing length, coaxing him into full length.Â
âWhatâs it for though? We already got our results.â Bending forward, you stick your tongue to kitten lick at his tip. Mingyu hisses, hips shifting. Your tongue swirls around the tip, pushing into the skin on the head where heâs most sensitive.Â
âUgh, fuck, for um,â he falters as you begin to suck at his head, tongue running over each hollow of your cheeks.Â
âForâŠforâŠâ His chest is moving up and down in quick breathes, every sound from his mouth coming from a deep rumble in his stomach.Â
Letting go of his cock, you continue to pump him with your hand as you gaze up at him from your position. âFor? Keep talking, baby.â
âForâŠTo identify groups,â he grunts out. He lets out a louder moan when you place your mouth back on him, going past his tip and taking as much as you can of him into your mouth. âIdentifyâŠthe differences, shit, hmph.â
He takes a loud breath before speeding through it again, âIdentify which groups actually differ, oh my god.â
The bit of him that you canât fit on your mouth is being pumped by your hands, fingers pushing into him like you were trying to indent them on the base of his cock. A glance upwards and you find his head thrown back, hands coming to tangle in your hair. His thumb caresses the side of your cheek.
âHow many groups?â you ask, before diving back in.Â
âThree,â he chokes out. âThree or more, oh Iâm gonna cum, fuck donât stop, holy shit.â
Both of his hands are at your head, guiding you as you suck him harder, faster, more tongue digging into his slit. You hum against his dick on purpose, making sure itâs coarse enough to get the reaction you want.Â
You succeed, because immediately after you hear Mingyu rip out the loudest moan youâve ever heard, his grip on your strands harder than ever. He cums into your mouth, hips stuttering as you place your entire weight on him to keep him in place.Â
You let some of it dribble out your mouth and back over his softening dick like a hot coating, sucking him through shooting spurts of cum that land on your tongue.Â
When you emerge from underneath, Mingyu looks like he got the soul sucked out of him; eyes closed, stuttered breaths raking through his entire body, a light sheen of the beginnings of sweat that glisten in the low light of the room.Â
Reaching for the tissue box and water bottle on the table, you soak the napkins and bring them to clean him up. He whines when the cold tissues touch him where heâs most sensitive right now, you want to kiss him but account for the cum that is actively stuck to the walls of your mouth.Â
You leave for a few minutes, much to Mingyuâs hoarse protests. Heâs almost on all fours, hands on the floors as you promise to be back. By the time youâve hauled his tired ass into bed, youâre just as ready to knock out as the half asleep man beside you.Â
Mingyuâs face is plastered into your neck, arms and legs thrown over your form as he hugs you close to him.Â
âI might love you,â he says into the darkness. A secret, just for you and the walls to hear.Â
You hide the way your heart absolutely leaps, conceal the way your hands tighten around his form into an affectionate caress, hold your breath to prevent the inevitable hitch.Â
I might love you too.Â
You hide that as well. For now.Â
Smiling into the skin of his temples, you sigh.
âFeel free.â
[Mingyu]: class ended earlyÂ
[Mingyu]: be there in 5Â
[You]: ???
[You]: wdym ended early
[You]: kim did u end class early to come home
Your response comes in the form of the front door lock jiggling loudly. Youâd stayed the night at his place, knowing you didnât have anything to do but study by yourself. Sickly as you were, you doubt you could sit through two hours of even more statistics.Â
Heâd left you in bed with a kiss, needing to be extra early since Dr. Cho decided to dump the last crucial few weeks leading up to finals season entirely on his TA. As much as there was on Mingyuâs already overflowing plate now, you couldnât deny the elated feeling of your attendance being taken care of regardless of whether you show up to class or not.Â
A very real violation, but no one truly notes one skipped student in the midst of hundreds. Besides, the bag under Mingyuâs pretty eyes might be enough for anyone to have mercy and let the supposed mistake slide.
As Mingyu walks into the room, shoes flying and back dumped on the floor, he finds you still half clothed with leftover sleep in your eyes, standing in the middle of the living space like you were lost.Â
He drops his things to come and drown you in his arms, loud kisses all over your face as you talk. âYouâre getting too comfortable with this job.â
âAm I?â
âYes.â
âCanât possibly expect me to teach a bunch of half asleep idiots when my woman is all alone at home, sickly and cold without me.â
You grumble wordlessly as you feel him check your temperature with the back of his hand. âHowâs the congestion?â
âBad,â you respond nasally. âI canât find my Afrin.â
âItâs on the bedside table, baby.â
âNo, itâs not.â
Still wrapped in his hold, Mingyu begins to take steps forward that lead towards the bed, pushing you to walk backwards.
âIâm not awake enough to navigate,â you sniff.
âIâve got you,â he lowtones, pushing backwards slowly.Â
The back of your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall back into the unmade sheets. You crawl back under the covers as Mingyu navigates between used tissues, water bottles and pills on the bedside table. But no sign of your nasal spray.Â
You have to breathe through your mouth and you hate it, but you send a remark his way anyway. âTold you.â
Mingyu bends down and emerges with a familiar red capped bottle. He stares at you while you stare at it, choosing to simply snatch it from his presenting hands and be done with it.Â
âGood thing I came back early, hm?âÂ
âShut up.â
He leaps over your form to claim the spot in bed right next to you, still fully clothed as he burrows under the covers next to you.
Thereâs nothing flattering about the way you stick the nozzle up your nostrils and sniff hard, but the gleam in your boyfriendâs eyes might as well suggest you were trying to get him to look at you like that.Â
âAre you gonna keep doing this till finals?â you ask throatily, shifting under the covers.Â
âTeaching during class time is just extended office hours, Iâm gonna go insane if I keep going like this. Probably just today. OrâŠonce more if I feel it.â
âDidnât you say you were gonna extend office hours to Fridays too?âÂ
Mingyu moulded himself against you, giving warmth to your shivering body even under thick blankets.Â
It seems throughout the course of your relationship, your time with Mingyu is either spent laying down or in the process of doing so. Not that you mind, youâve found that remaining horizontal was what worked best for someone like Mingyu who seemed to want to fuse with your very being whenever you were together.
âUgh, not this week. Do not have the patience.â
âIâm proud of you,â you say, eyes closed, already on the highway to dreamland.Â
âThank you, I do think Iâve been very brave.â
Even while slipping into dreamland, you find the good sense to find his nipple through his sweater and give it a hard pinch. He jerks away in a yelp, clutching his chest.Â
âWhatâs that for?!â
You ignore him and simply run your hand over the area you just attacked. âYouâve gotten better at knowing when to slow down. Iâm proud of you.â
Youâre too far gone to make out what he answers you with, but with the hot breath against your already warm forehead, you decide it's more than enough for you.Â
MINGYU DOES IT FOR the fourth time, but this time round heâs smart enough to not tell you.Â
Itâs the Friday before finals week officially begins, and you remain in your own place for once to crack down on the last bits of syllabus you want to go over, away from your extremely distracting boyfriend.Â
Thereâs a text when you check your phone after a couple hours of hyperfocus, and you narrow your eyes at the notification.Â
Itâs Wonwooâs (actual) girlfriend, and sheâs sent you nothing but a picture of both of your men on Wonwooâs living room floor, thoroughly occupied with the floored expanse of sheets, pillows and cushions.Â
Itâs a pillow fort.
Your boyfriend is building a pillow fort in his not-husbandâs living room mere days before the final exam for the most dreaded course of the semester. All while heâs actively meant to be available for office hours.
You want to laugh. The man that stayed up multiple nights to answer stupid questions in emails, is now less than concerned about the pandemonium that is probably ensuing in the department building. It isnât that youâre upset, because this was what you wanted from him. To learn to take a break when it was needed. But you would also prefer heâd time them a little better.Â
Inevitably, you text him, but not before sending an encouraging text to your girlfriend-in-law for putting up with the both of them all by herself.Â
[You]: where are you
[Mingyu]: where im meant to be?
[You]: office hours?
[Mingyu]: mhm
[You]: are u and ur husband conducting them under a pillow fort in his house
You imagine him sending Wonwooâs girlfriend a betrayed look. Perhaps even throw a frilled throw pillow in her unassuming direction.Â
[Mingyu]: DONT KILL ME
You let him suffer in your silence, clicking your phone off and leaving it somewhere you wonât be tempted to look.Â
Besides, it wasnât long before there was an incessant banging at your door that you ended up needing to get up to open. He looks so timid, the face of an innocent perpetrator that waltzes into your space.Â
âIâm sorry,â he begins, following you to your desk like a lost duckling.Â
âWhatever for?â
âFor lying.âÂ
You snort as you sift through tutorial sheets, âMight wanna take that up to the poor hopeless student that thought you were their last hope.â
Mingyuâs head sinks to your shoulder where you sit at your desk. âGod.â
âHim too.â
In another few moments, his arms have come around to cage you into your desk where youâre sat, hands placed on the table as he towers over the top of your head, mouth to crown.Â
âRumour has it,â he starts.Â
You make a face. âNow youâve joined in on gossip? Maybe I have steered you wrong.â
He ignores you valiantly as his mouth drops lower, down to the beginnings of the tips of your ears. You can smell him. He smells good.Â
âThat a textbook recitation is all it takes to get you all bothered down there.â
Lifting your head from its craned position over your papers, you stare straight ahead. Blank and unassuming.Â
âTake a hike, Kim.â
â...Sorry.â
NO MATTER HOW FAKE annoyed you were at your boyfriend, you cannot possibly credit anyone else for how smooth your finals had gone.Â
Not a single tear, hack or whine. Your meals were on time, your sleep schedule the healthiest itâs been for months. You even managed a movie night break in the midst of it all. A record for you.Â
The very first thing you do after walking out of the exam hall, stretching and sighing, you find Mingyu waiting with nervous eyes.Â
âWell?â he asks, eyes wide and lips pulled into his teeth.Â
You merely grab for his hand and pull him out of the crowded hall and past a few familiar turns.Â
âFor the record I didnât want some of the questions on there,â he yaps as he follows behind your stalks. âHard ones werenât mine. I promise Iâm not a sadist.â
Then, in an un-CCTVâd corner, marked by the broken, empty vending machine, you round up on him. In seconds youâve pulled him down to meet your lips in an eager, full kiss.Â
In the moments your lips remain intact, you can feel all the horrid statistical knowledge youâd gathered over the months slip out the cracks and crevices, relieving you.Â
Mingyu is careful to let you pull away first, eyes sticky to open when you do. Thereâs a smile on your face. âIt went great.â
A strong tug against your waist and youâre suddenly pressed into Mingyuâs all too familiar hold, so everloving tight you can hardly breathe. His lips are smacking and pressing into your skin, all over your face, neck and hands. Anywhere he could possibly reach.Â
There wasnât much he could do standing in a huddled corner at nine in the morning on a Tuesday, where anyone could pass by and question what in the high school was going on. But there was more than enough Mingyu could do behind closed doors.Â
In true Mingyu fashion, heâs begun to grope in every way you love the minute the lock clicks shut of his apartment, every fibre of both of your beings giddy and jumpy, giggles erupting from your tired mouths. You havenât been touched in ages, always too tired to do anything even when you would find the time.Â
It isnât remotely strange that you're wet from only a few kisses and hot breaths against your neck. Although Mingyuâs hands havenât been modest either, already reaching your clothed cunt as you fall into bed.Â
He says it was your reward, for doing so good, his illustrious mouth suctioned onto your naked core, moving and grinding in ways you can more than just appreciate.
His tongue is nothing below made for you, like he knows exactly when to flick his tongue, graze his teeth and all but suck the daylights out of you. Itâs marvellous, even more so as you realise he wonât stop. One, two, three mind blowing orgasms later, your legs still shake around his head as you cry out for him to stop.Â
Not that he was going to listen, as he did not the last fifteen times you tried, simply pushing a finger into your abused hole to chuck you into yet another climax. Youâre sobbing, trembling, sweating; but also half hearted in your attempts to stop him.Â
By the time heâs relented, youâre sure you wonât feel a thing down there for at least a week. If Mingyu will even let you go untouched for that long.Â
But as youâre finally able to catch your long lost breath in bed, and Mingyu has curled up right beside you, like he always does, you let the finality of it all sink in. You were done. And so was he. And you could now begin to experience a Mingyu that wasnât exhausted, stressed or tired. Even now, the long indented layers of fatigue begin to melt away, revealing a less strained man.Â
Mingyu was beautiful either way.Â
âAre you okay?â he asks you, his fingers tracing your features.Â
The pads of his fingers glide across your eyelids, down the slope of your nose, tracing the outline of your lips. You kiss his fingers as they reach you there, hand coming up to hold his wrists. You kiss the tips of his fingers, down to the palm of his hand. Eyes closed, you keep your lips there.Â
âMore than okay,â you mumble.Â
âGood. Thought I lost you there.â
Stretching unceremoniously, you drape yourself over his naked form, head on his shoulder. âYouâre not losing me. Not after being the sole reason I pass this devilâs module.â
âIs that all it takes? Make sure you donât fail?â
âAnd give head like that.â Itâs a half joke. âBut also be Kim Mingyu comma TA.â
He mimics you between a breathy laugh, âComma TA. Not anymore, I guess.â
âHow happy are you?â
âStill have to grade the last set of papers. But I got what I wanted.â
âThe recommendation? You deserve it.â
âThat, and not having to be in Dr. Choâs presence every other day. And you.â
You kiss his shoulder. âLook at you. All grown up with your big boy grad school on the horizon.â
âNot just yet.â
âYouâll get there too. If you can power through this hellsent semester, you can power through anything grad school applications throw.â
Mingyu shifts where he lays, taking a turn to lie on his side to face you. The afternoon sun peeks from behind his form, his outline made of pure gold. His breath is in your face as he talks, and thereâs comfort in the air it penetrates.
âI only powered through this because of you. I hope you know that.â Heâs smiling.Â
âGirlfriend duties,â you quote solemnly.Â
âI mean it. I knew I was walking into disaster with how this stupid job was going, all that work was just a distraction. I didnât wanna believe this was a bad idea. And then you walked in.â
You cup his face and pout, âOh, my damsel in distress.â
âHm, my knight in shining armour,â he giggles. âGalloped in and saved me from myself.â
âYou saved me too. From the world and its horrible creations.âÂ
âIâll start talking in formulas if this keeps up.âÂ
You can only grumble in mild annoyance.Â
âIâm glad I asked you to come in early that day,â he says.
âIâm glad I was a good samaritan and gathered all your stuff that day.â You grin.
Mingyu leans in and kisses you. Itâs soft, slow, and drips of the romance heâs trying to bring into the conversation. His lips are bliss, the feeling of him is bliss.Â
Itâs almost scary how easily youâve been able to give yourself to him. How quickly heâs placed himself in every nook and cranny of your heart. With his tired eyes and stronger than himself smile, the hand he extended in ways beyond you could ever explain to him. Itâs terrifying when you realise what remains on the tip of your tongue, ready and bursting.Â
But itâs true, and you can only pray it remains that way. Because in that moment, naked and tangled between Mingyuâs limbs, his heart in your ears, your hands on his being, you just know.Â