not to give green day credit but it is immensely funny how often Big Corporation For Guys Men Guys Guy Corporation will be like hi green day play my event. and green day is like ok Big Corporation For Guys Men Guys Guy Corporation but you know we suck dick and penis and want to kill politicians and we are going to play our song we suck dick and penis and want to kill politicians .and Big Corporation For Guys Men Guys Guy Corporation is like ok green day thats cool. and then green day plays their song we suck dick and penis and want to kill politicians. and Big Corporation For Guys Men Guys Guy Corporation is like wtf green day you cant do that you cant play your song we suck dick and penis and want to kill politicians. and this has been happening in a cycle for 30 years.
✸synopsis: he moves like water — calm, steady, and slowly, he pulls you into his current.
✸genre: one-shot, fluff, college!au
✸pairing: kim dong-hyun x reader / leehan x reader
✸warnings: n/a
✸wc: 1.7k
✸an: lower case intended, no use of y/n, gn!reader / i had to, okay? leehan + aquarium is simply a classic at this point lol
[now playing: driving to hawaii — summer salt]
m.list
─────
you first become aware of leehan during the very first week of college.
it’s not due to his conversation skills — he hardly speaks a word to anyone. nor is it because he draws attention to himself; in fact, he has a way of merging seamlessly into the background, almost as if he’s part of the scenery.
what captures your attention is his daily ritual. every morning, without exception, he makes a point to pause at the courtyard pond before stepping into the building. the way he approaches the water is deliberate, as if he’s preparing for something significant. he stands there, taking in the gentle ripples and the soft sounds of nature, creating a stark contrast to the bustling energy of students rushing by.
he stands there for a full minute, hands in pockets, expression unreadable, just watching the fish drift beneath the surface. it’s like a ritual, something private. something sacred.
everyone else rushes, laughs, scrolls on their phones. leehan simply looks at the water. quiet. calm. cool. like his thoughts move in slow waves instead of sharp lines. you watch him sometimes, wondering what he sees in that pond that everyone else misses.
─────
as you stroll through the sun-drenched courtyard after a long day of classes, the gentle sound of water rippling catches your attention, a soothing melody amidst the chatter of students. you pause, curiosity piqued, and turn to see him once more — leehan — positioned gracefully by the pond.
his dark hair tumbles forward, framing his face as he kneels, a serene expression etched upon his features. with careful precision, he sprinkles small flakes of food into the shimmering water, watching intently as the surface comes alive with movement. the vibrant colors of the fish darting beneath the surface create a mesmerizing dance, reflecting the golden hues of the setting sun.
you’re about to slip away unnoticed when he speaks. his voice is low and quiet — so quiet you almost think you imagined it.
“don’t step on that tile,” he says, still gazing at the pond.
you blink in surprise, your foot now paused midway through the air. you tilt your head from the ground to the boy. “what?”
he lifts a finger and points — not looking away from the fish. his tone is calm, steady. “the one in front of your right foot. it’s loose.”
you step back quickly. “oh. okay. thanks.”
a gentle smile spreads across his lips, delicate and warm, as he shares a lighthearted moment.
“it makes a strange sound sometimes,” he continues, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “it even scared a little kid last week, poor thing.”
you can’t help but chuckle, the sound escaping before you can contain it. he looks up, momentarily taken aback by your laughter, his cheeks flushing a soft shade of pink as he quickly averts his gaze back to the water. you inhale softly, feeling a mix of amusement and warmth in the air.
then, gathering your courage, you ask quietly, “can i sit with you?”
leehan doesn’t say yes. he doesn’t even nod. he simply shifts over an inch — barely, but enough — creating space beside him.
you sit. the koi surface again, shimmering like tiny solar flares in the water. leehan watches them the way some people watch fireworks — with quiet awe that never fades.
“do you like them that much?” you ask softly.
he nods and hums out, “mm. they’re… comforting.”
“why fish?” you wonder aloud, and then quickly glance over at the boy to make sure you didn’t send the quiet boy back into his shell.
he thinks for a moment. “they move like thoughts. slow ones.”
you smile at that — soft, closed mouth but genuine. you muse, “so you like quiet things.”
“not always.” his voice softens. “just the ones that feel safe.”
he lifts his gaze to you. and somehow, you know he’s talking about more than fish.
─────
it rains a week later — one of those soft, misty drizzles that turns the whole world silver, like someone smudged the edges of the afternoon with a watercolor brush.
you’re packing your bag to go home, the classroom half-lit and hushed. the windows glow pale with rain, droplets racing each other down the glass. everyone else has already left. chairs sit crooked, papers rustle in the faint breeze of the open door.
you’re sliding your notebook into your bag when a presence forms quietly beside you — so quiet, it’s almost like he appeared out of the rain itself. you turn — and nearly jump.
leehan stands there, shoulders damp, hair clinging to his forehead in soft, dark strands. raindrops glisten on his jacket, catching the light like tiny crystals. he looks less like a classmate and more like a character from a quiet indie film — cool, calm, slightly mysterious, and unintentionally beautiful.
“h-hi,” you breathe out, startled.
he blinks at you slowly. “hi.”
his voice is soft, almost swallowed by the patter of rain on the hallway tiles outside. for a moment, neither of you moves. you feel the air shift around him — something shy, something young, like a ripple in still water.
he shifts from one foot to the other, glancing at your bag, then at the door, then at you. you swear you can hear the hum of his nerves beneath the rain. then, carefully — like he’s offering something fragile — he holds out a small folded pamphlet.
“the aquarium opened a new tunnel,” he murmurs, avoiding your eyes. “today. i thought maybe… you’d want to go.”
you take the pamphlet curiously. it’s drenched at the corners, slightly bent from being held too tight. on the front, a cartoon shark beams up at you with a goofy, toothy smile.
you bite back a grin. “with you?”
at that, he nods — quickly, almost too quickly — a tiny bob of his head that sends a drop of water sliding down his cheek. his eyes dart away immediately, as if he’s afraid he’s being too bold.
your chest warms.
“i’d love to,” you say.
and it’s like watching sunlight break through a cloud. the tightness in his shoulders melts. his breath slips out in a quiet exhale he must’ve been holding. his posture softens, almost shyly relieved.
“okay,” he says softly — barely louder than the rain. then, after a tiny pause, with just a hint of hope in his voice, “let’s go.”
he steps aside to hold the classroom door open for you, cheeks flushed, hair still dripping softly onto his collar.
and as you walk out into the silvery drizzle together, his hand hovers near yours — close enough to feel the warmth, far enough to show he’s waiting for you to choose the distance.
─────
the moment you walk inside, leehan changes. not dramatically — just delicately, like someone turning down the volume on the rest of the world so he can hear you better.
his shoulders drop the slightest bit, tension melting in a way you almost wouldn’t notice unless you were watching him as closely as he watches you. his eyes widen — not in surprise, but in this soft, wonder-struck way, as if you are part of the exhibit. his footsteps slow, his usual brisk pace replaced with something hesitant, gentle.
he moves with a kind of reverence, like he’s entering a sacred place. as if, the aquarium isn’t magical because of the fish — it’s magical because you’re here. when you look at the fish, he looks at you — quietly, secretly, checking your reaction before he allows the faintest smile to bloom on his lips. and when you look at him... you don’t look away.
he stops at almost every tank, telling you small, shy facts in that soft, slightly nervous voice you love.
“that one likes hiding in seaweed.”
“this one’s eyes can move separately.”
“that one pretends to be dead when it’s stressed. kind of like me.”
you laugh. he goes red to the tips of his ears. he pretends to be studying the fish, but his smile gives him away — it’s small, crooked, and completely adorable.
when you reach the big ocean tunnel, he steps inside first. then he stops, waits, and turns back — quietly holding out a hand in your direction, not quite offering it, not quite hiding it. just… waiting for you to come to him.
the tunnel glows blue. light ripples over the walls and over your skin. shoals of fish drift above like floating galaxies, like everything outside this moment ceases to exist.
leehan stands close enough that the warmth of his arm brushes yours when he breathes. he keeps glancing at you — quick, flickering looks, like he’s memorizing the way the blue light paints your face.
“this place is like a dream,” you whisper, breath barely carrying in the cool, echoing tunnel.
“mm,” he murmurs. “better with you.”
your heart flips so sharply you almost miss a step. you look up at him. his eyes are soft — softer than you’ve ever seen them — glowing with reflected light, with unspoken things he’s not brave enough to say aloud yet.
your hands touch. just barely. a feather-light brush of skin against skin.
you expect him to jerk away. but he doesn’t.
instead, he exhales shakily, turns his hand just a little — and lets his pinky hook around yours.
a tiny, shy, unbearably tender thing. but you feel it everywhere. he holds onto you like he’s afraid to let go.
─────
a few days later, you find him by the pond again. but this time, he’s waiting.
you can tell immediately — by the way he straightens the second he spots you across the path, by the tiny intake of breath he tries to hide, by how his eyes soften like someone dimming the harshness of the world just for you.
“you’re early,” he says, voice gentle, as if afraid to disturb the quiet water.
“wanted to see you.”
he blinks. once. twice. a third time — as if processing the sentence frame by frame.
“…oh.”
he lowers his gaze to the pond, suddenly shy again, shoulders curling inward like he’s folding himself into safety. the tips of his ears turn pink. his fingers brush nervously along the wooden deck, like he needs something to anchor him.
you sit beside him, the wood is warm beneath your legs. a koi glides up to the surface — white and gold — and the ripples shimmer across his face, turning his eyes into soft, shifting pools of color.
“leehan?” you say quietly.
“mm?” he doesn’t look up, but you hear the way his breath shifts — like he’s bracing for something important.
“you’re different around me.”
the quiet deepens. even the wind seems to pause. he stays silent for a long moment, staring at the water like it holds the words he’s trying to find. then, slowly — very slowly — he lifts his hand from his lap.
it hovers for a second, trembling ever so slightly.
then he sets it palm-up between you. not reaching for you. not assuming. just offering — like a shy creature stepping close enough to be touched, but giving you the choice.
“if i am,” he whispers, voice fragile but sure, “it’s because i want to be close to you.”
your breath catches. the world softens.
you place your hand in his.
the reaction is instant — he inhales sharply, a tiny gasp he tries and fails to hide. his fingers close around yours delicately, like he’s afraid he might break something precious.
his thumb brushes your knuckles once, hesitant.
he looks at your joined hands, eyes wide with wonder, swallowing hard like emotion is lodged in his throat.
“you make me feel…” his brow furrows as he searches for the right word— earnest, thoughtful, deeply sincere. “…safe. like the quiet water i like so much.”
your heart squeezes.
“and i want…” he continues, voice dropping to a breath, “…to stay by you. like the fish stay near the surface when they trust someone.”
that’s when you lean in, closing the last bit of space between you.
he meets you halfway — barely.
his lips touch yours with the softness of a single falling leaf, warm and shy and almost startled. he kisses you like he’s learning how — gently, carefully, with a tremor of awe running through him.
when he pulls back, his eyes are wide, pupils blown in surprise and something sweeter.
“you kissed me,” he murmurs, voice tiny, disbelieving.
“you held my hand first,” you tease.
his cheeks flare pink as he immediately hides his face in his sleeve, shoulders hunching adorably. you can hear the muffled noise he makes — half embarrassment, half happiness.
then, without looking up, he asks softly, “can we… kiss again?”
you smile, tipping his sleeve down so he has to meet your eyes. you nod.
and under the golden reflection of the rippling water — fish gliding lazily beneath you — he leans in again. this time the kiss is still shy, still soft, but there’s a quiet smile pressed to your lips, a warmth that wasn’t there before.
like he’s no longer startled. like he’s choosing you. like he wants more.
MISMATCH MADE IN HEAVEN! am i falling for the “wrong” guy? - a kim leehan smau
synopsis; when your best friend starts dating taesan, you jokingly ask her to set you up with one of his friends - specifically, lee riwoo, your crush since high school. but things take a turn when taesan misinterprets your clues and ends up setting you up with the wrong friend.
04. clownfishes and anemones
word count: 1.7k (1754)
As soon as the three figures appeared at your doorstep and the doorbell rang, you practically flew down the stairs — half tripping over the last step — while still fixing your clothes. You gave your new coat a quick, frantic pat-down, brushing off invisible dust like your life depended on it.
But before you could reach the door, Sohee — who you were sure had fallen asleep on the couch — beat you to it. He swung the door open without hesitation, completely unbothered by the fact that he was wearing a hot pink shirt and checkered pajama pants in front of three undeniably stylish people.
“Hi, guy— Leehan?” Oh god no. The thought of explaining the whole misunderstanding to your brother made your head hurt.
Your heart dropped. You could only hope his face didn’t mirror the utter confusion and mild horror you felt. But knowing your brother… subtlety wasn’t really his strong suit.
“Bye, Sohee! We’re going! See you later!” you blurted out in a rush, running past him to meet everyone outside.
He blinked. “Wait, I have a question—”
You slammed the door shut before he could finish, pressing your back against it like you were holding back an avalanche, the action making you giggle nervously.
The brown eyed girl was the first to approach you, wrapping you in a hug so tight it might squeeze the air straight out of your lungs. But despite that, the familiar smell of her vanilla scented perfume mixed with the slight wind of october’s afternoons made you feel —even if just for a few seconds— at ease.
Pulling back, she gave you a reassuring wink, before slipping back to Taesan’s side, who limited himself to offer a weak wave and a muttered “hey” while glacing over to Leehan, the corners of his mouth twitching into a playful grin.
You turned then, only to find Leehan already looking at you. Maybe admiring you was the better word.
A characteristic close-eyed smile adorning his features, unreadable as usual… was he just being shy or was he genuinely happy to see you? Maybe both. He’d left his hair natural, soft blond curls framing his angelic face, but a sudden shift in the afternoon light made him look even more ethereal. You were aware of his career as a model, but was he always this stunning?
The silence stretched, too awkward and uncomfortably loud for you to bear, and before you realized it, you’d been staring at him for a good minute.
“Your hair is cute”
His smile only grew wider before he answered. “Yours is always beautiful”
You froze. Since when did his words have the power to make your heart skip a beat?
“You’re always straightforward, Ihan”
“I’m just always honest”
You hoped your cheeks weren’t flushed- but judging from the warmth you felt blooming across your face, you weren’t so lucky. Again, the blond boy wasn’t any better, but you weren’t 100% sure he noticed your reaction.
The exchange made the couple next to you giggle like idiots, and before you could say anything to escape the embarrassing situation, Taesan spoke up.
“So, arcade first?”
────୨ৎ────
The arcade was chaotic in the best way: colorful lights flashing, music blaring, friends laughing too loud and the unmistakable smell of popcorn filled the whole place. This was the place where you, Sohee and Taesan used to hang out during middle school, when Taesan had just moved to your neighborhood and you two were the first friends he made, eager to show him every funny spot in the town. So when the black haired boy sighted the familiar “Street Fighter” machine, he turned to you with a mocking expression, reminiscing how he used to beat both you and your brother.
“It’s time to see if you two are as good as you always brag about being!” Erin exclaimed while approaching the game, elbowing you with her free arm, a signal that could only mean «I know you’re better» in your secret best friend language.
[…]
Four rounds in and you and Taesan were head to head, the fifth round about to be decisive. People started gathering around you during the second round, kids mostly, then during the third and fourth one more and more people your age showed interest for your skills. Some teenagers cheering, some parents keeping their children in place, the atmosphere amplifying your competitive spirit.
You noticed a figure almost immediately — a boy who lingered a little too long near the edges of the circle, phone in hand, pretending to be distracted but clearly keeping an eye on you. He smiled as he leaned closer, as if he was about to ask for your number. Classic move, you thought distractedly while selecting your character.
The fifth round began, and as soon as the first hit landed, chaos erupted. The furious clatter of buttons, Taesan’s occasional curses every time you landed a brutal combo, and Erin and Leehan’s running commentary — sometimes teasing, sometimes impressed — all built up to the finale: your devastating victory.
The crowd cheered, and before you could high-five your best friend, you felt it: Leehan’s arms around you, firm and steady, pulling you into a congratulatory hug. His familiar, calm warmth spread through you, and a faint giggle escaped before you could stop it.
“You’ll have to teach me how to play. You’re… incredible,” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.
The boy who had been watching you from the edge froze mid-step. Phone lowered slowly, eyes widening as he noticed the subtle intimacy: Leehan’s hands resting gently on your lower back, the way your own arms wrapped around his shoulders, and that quietly affectionate look in his eyes.
“Uh… yeah… maybe not,” he muttered to himself, stepping back with a defeated slump, clearly convinced that Leehan wasn’t just a friend — he was your boyfriend. The corners of his mouth twitched as he muttered something about giving you space, his phone forgotten at his side.
Meanwhile, you blinked up at Leehan, heart still racing, cheeks warm. “Thanks…” you whispered, trying to sound casual, though your voice betrayed you.
He just smiled, eyes crinkling slightly at the edges “Now it’s my time to show you what I can do”
Before you could respond, he gently took your hand and led you toward the shooting games, the kind with rows of soda cans on shelves, waiting for the inevitable shot that would send them tumbling. But you knew the scam: they’re either impossibly difficult to win —unless you’re ready to spend all of your money—, or suspiciously easy if someone actually knew what they were doing.
“I’m way better than Taesan at this,” Leehan said, nudging you slightly with a grin. “Just tell me what you want, and I’ll win it in no time.”
Taesan’s eyebrows shot up. “We’ll see about that!” he snapped, gesturing dramatically toward the booth. Erin immediately pulled out her phone, eyes sparkling, clearly ready to capture the chaos.
Leehan approached the fake gun, calm and measured, scanning the cans with a focused intensity that made you blink. He pulled the trigger once… click. The first can wobbled, the second fell, the third teetered…
All of his fake bullets hit the can perfectly, obviously making his score suitable to obtain the prize you wanted: a comically large clownfish plushie, which made Leehan smile.
The lady running the booth leaned over, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Your girlfriend must be so lucky” she said, giving him a playful wink.
You froze, cheeks heating instantly. “I’m not—” you stuttered, but Leehan’s calm, infuriating smirk only grew wider. He leaned toward you slightly, quiet enough that only you could hear“I guess I am lucky too.”
Taesan groaned dramatically throwing his hands up, interrupting your thoughts. “Of course! Of course he wins on the first try! This is rigged!”
Erin giggled so loudly it drew a few amused looks from other players. You hugged the clownfish tightly, hiding your face into it, glancing up at Leehan every once in a while. He looked completely unbothered, but the way his eyes lingered on you made your pulse spike in ways you weren’t ready to admit.
“Can we walk a bit now?” Thank godness Erin is a pro at reading the room.
────୨ৎ────
Stepping out of the arcade, the sudden shift in temperature hit you like a wall. The warmth and chaos of the lights and music were gone, replaced by the crisp evening air that made the tip of your nose flush pink and your fingers go numb almost instantly.
But of course, nothing could escape Leehan when it came to you.
Before you could even rub your hands together, he slid his hands over yours, enveloping them in his warmth, and tucked them into the pocket of his jacket — conveniently lined with soft wool. His thumb brushed gently over your knuckles in a rhythm that was both soothing and teasing. You caught the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips, though his expression remained calm and composed, betraying only the tiniest effort to suppress a giggle at your flustered reaction.
And you were no different. Your chest felt impossibly full of something you couldn’t quite name yet, and it throbbed in a way that made your heart pound against your ribs like it was trying to escape. Somehow, in just these few hours, Leehan had worked his way into your mind and heart, like that clownfish plushie — too big, impossible to ignore, yet somehow it fit perfectly right.
“You didn’t have to do this” Your words betrayed your feelings, but they showed how glad you were for such a simple gesture.
“I know, but i wanted to” Here he goes again with that attitude that made your stomach flip earlier.
For a moment, the bustling street, the cold, even the laughter of Erin and Taesan ahead of you—all of it faded. There was only the warmth of his hands, the gentle pressure of his presence beside you, and the quiet thought that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want this feeling to end.
“I think this little guy might be jealous” he said referring to the clownfish, eyes glinting with mischief.
“Jealous?”
“Clownfish are very territorial about their anemone- their home, they guard it fiercely. You’re protecting it like you’re its home… i have some competition now”
You were so going to tell Sohee about all of this.
a/n here’s the written part i originally wanted to post with chapter 3! i had to read this so many times because i wasn’t fully convinced, i kept on deleting or rewriting certain parts and it was stressing me out, but my friend said that this version was very nice and i trust her 🤞 stay tuned for the next chapters… 😈😈
Hi! I wanted to know if I could request a writing with Jooyeon x reader where Jooyeon is a nonidol and a p.e. teacher, while the reader is also a teacher at the same school. Maybe like an art teacher or normal homeroom teacher for the reader? Or whatever you think is best and will make sense. I know it will be amazing since I have loved all of your writings they are so so good! :D I hope this makes sense since it is my first time requesting something.
A FOR EFFORT?
── .✦ pairing; teacher!jooyeon x teacher!gn!reader
── .✦ summary; five times jooyeon is in the running for the position of your work spouse, and one time you run for the position of his.
── .✦ word count; ~4.1k
── .✦ tags; swearing, slightly suggestive near the end, teacher au, fluff, humor, (inaccurate depiction of teaching in korea/teaching in general), (i apologize to those who read this and actually teach tysm for your hard work)
── .✦ a/n; thank you for the request anon!!! i'm sorry for the delay </3 for plot purposes reader is an art teacher hehe
prelude;
Two weeks after Lee Jooyeon comes onboard at your elementary school as the new physical education teacher, he approaches you in the teacher's room and asks, a grave look on his face, if you have a work spouse already.
"Work spouse?" you repeat, perplexed. "Why do you ask?"
"Hyeongjun said that your work spouse is probably Seungmin. Is he?"
"Well, I guess it would make sense since we both started working here at the same time. But no." The sigh of relief that escapes him makes you crack a smile. "Do you have a work spouse, Seonsaengnim?"
At that, Jooyeon throws you a crooked grin. His boyish reply sends a rush of blood to your cheeks.
"No, not yet." You nod in acknowledgment, looking down with the excuse of organizing your papers. You think that is the end of the conversation until he continues: "How can I get one?"
"Huh?"
"How can I get a work spouse?"
You shrug, laughing a bit at the absurdity of the question, even as a younger part of you flirts with hope. "I don't know," you reply. Jooyeon just stares at you expectantly, and your chuckle turns awkward. "Help them prep materials for their class? Listen to them complain about overbearing parents?"
"Those things would work?"
"I mean, they're nice things to do. Anybody would appreciate it."
"Yes, 'cause I'm lazy and love complaining." You push your sleeves back up and return your attention to your computer screen, scooting into your desk. "Anything else I can help you with before we get back to work, Seonsaengnim?"
A thoughtful hum leaves his throat, low and sonorous. "No, that's it," he eventually replies. "Thank you."
"Of course," you say as he excuses himself, and as he shuffles off to wherever he had come from, your head turns on its own volition to watch him leave.
Work spouse. How cute. You're curious to see what he does with your advice, if only to see if he really means to use it on you.
—
one;
"Good morning, Seonsaengnim!"
Hurried steps soon follow, and you turn, astonished.
"Am I dreaming?" you say by way of greeting, not believing your eyes or ears as Jooyeon skids to a stop. You glance down at the two cups in his possession. "You're thirty minutes early?"
"Yep," Jooyeon says proudly. His expression is bright, though his somewhat rumpled appearance tells you the cost of rolling out of bed earlier than usual. "I wanted to make sure you had time to drink this."
He offers one of the cups to you. You take it gratefully and read the sleeve, your eyebrows shooting up as you recognize the name of your favorite coffee shop. You think you've only mentioned it once to him in passing.
"How do you know how I take my coffee?"
"I asked Jiseokie."
Ah, so that's why he had asked everyone yesterday.
Delaying opening the door to blow into the cup and take a sip, you make a pleased sound as the blend hits your tongue. It isn't your exact order, but it's pretty damn close, and it's good. And it isn't too hot.
"Good?" Jooyeon ventures expectantly.
"Good," you confirm, smiling and turning to open the door. "Thank you, Seonsaengnim."
He follows you into the school and drinks from his own cup of coffee.
"What did you get?" you ask.
He sounds almost proud when he replies. "Iced Americano."
"Is that your usual?"
He takes another swig. You get your answer when you glance to the side and catch the grimace on his face. "… No, I like frappés better …"
You snort, elbowing him gently. "Then why did you get that?"
"The caffeine," he answers. "I wanted to be more awake when I told you good morning."
Oh.
"… Oh," you say, touched. "Well, you've made my morning for sure."
Jooyeon grins. If he had a tail, you think it would be wagging right now.
—
two;
The feeling of Jooyeon hovering over your shoulder is nothing particularly new, but it still makes you nervous and giddy at the same time.
"Yes, Seonsaengnim?"
"Nothing, just watching," he replies, then inevitably follows up with, "what kind of art is this?"
You continue squeezing glue onto the piece of fabric pressed out on the counter, trying to keep the lines from being too gloopy. "I'm doing a few lessons on textiles, and we're going to do batik two days from now. It's a Javanese dyeing technique that creates patterns using hot wax," you explain. "I'll have the kids use glue instead of wax, though."
"Oh, I think I remember doing that in school! Can I try?"
"Sure." You pause to gesture to the nearby stack of fabric squares. "You can draw out your own design on the fabric or trace from the design I printed out."
"I'll make my own design."
For the next five minutes, Jooyeon takes a pencil in hand and becomes deceptively quiet. You sense him glance over at you several times, but you keep your eyes on the standard design you'll be showing as an example, working on the petal edges and filling in the centers. When he mutters about glue, you direct him towards the supply cabinet without so much as sneaking a peek at his progress. You're not sure why. Maybe you just want the reveal to be all at once.
Around the time that you finish your own design, Jooyeon grunts happily. "Done," he announces, very student-like.
"That was pretty quick," you say, finally looking over and immediately stopping short. "Oh, that's … oh … wow."
Jooyeon had drawn a portrait. Of someone? You're actually not sure it's a person.
"It's you," he says, and you struggle not to choke. The corners of his eyes crinkle at the ungodly sound, but your embarrassment quickly fades as he starts cackling. "Abstractly, maybe. What, you don't like it? I worked so hard!"
"No, it's great," you wheeze. "Looks just like me. Can I show it as an example to the students?"
"Well, yeah. Wait, let me sign it." Tongue sticking out slightly, Jooyeon glues his name into the corner with a flourish. "Is that good?"
"Perfect." You mean it genuinely and he beams. "We can paint them tomorrow, if you have time."
"I'll make time, Seonsaengnim."
He helps you put the supplies away and store your pieces somewhere where they won't get bothered. Only then does he sheepishly mutter something about working on his own lesson plan for tomorrow, leading to you quickly ushering him out of the art room.
Once he is gone, you return to the portrait he had made and giggle until you have to sit down. You're flattered—really.
—
three;
"Those girls over at the far end of the swings," Seungmin brings your attention to a trio of students during recess. "They're up to something."
"Looks like they're picking flowers." You watch the three students from the Camellia class as they shuffle through the grass to pick dandelions. The yellow flowers are starting to crop up all over the schoolyard, much to the vice principal's chagrin. "Jiwoo's been making dandelion chains for the past week."
"No ..." Seungmin scratches his neck. "They've been looking over here for the past five minutes and giggling."
You snort. "Maybe they want to give their handsome moral education teacher flowers."
Dismissive of Seungmin's observation, you turn your attention to the more rambunctious group of students playing soccer. One of them attempts a giant swing of a kick only to miss and fall backwards in the process, but she gets back up in no time to run after everyone else.
Eventually, you hear someone calling for a teacher.
"Seonsaengnim!"
You smile as the three girls from earlier run towards you and Seungmin. All three have a chain of dandelions around their necks, and the ringleader, Jiwoo, has a small bundle of long-stemmed dandelions and smaller white flowers tied together with a piece of grass.
"What is it, girls?" you ask. "You all look so nice with your necklaces."
"Thank you," Jiwoo says modestly. The other two glance at each other and giggle but say nothing. "We have something for you."
To your slight but pleasant surprise, she presents the bouquet to you.
"Wow!" says Seungmin next to you. "We have such thoughtful students, Seonsaengnim."
"We do," you say proudly, taking the bouquet. "Thank you, girls."
They look at you and giggle to each other again. You start to get a little perplexed when they linger, until—
"They're from Coach!" Chaeyoung blurts, then gasps and covers her mouth.
You blink. "... Coach?" Jiwoo glares at her friend, and all three girls blush guiltily. You bend down a bit and smile at them to hide your sudden concern. "Did he tell you to do this?"
It takes a moment of silent debating amongst the group, but finally, Jiyoo speaks up, her voice tiny and nervous. "No. But we heard Seonsaengnim tell Coach about liking the dandelions yesterday, and Coach said he wished he was on recess duty today to get you some, a-and ... we wanted to do something nice for Seonsaengnim and Coach."
Your tongue nearly ties itself up into a knot. Shit. You thought it had just been the two of you in the hallway yesterday, away from the kids, but you should've known by now that even the walls have ears. At least you know that Jooyeon has the sense not to purposely involve the kids with this. You avoid meeting Seungmin's eyes for fear that he might say something stupid in front of your students.
While you gather your thoughts, Jiyoo begins to sniff. "I'm sorry for eavesdropping, Seonsaengnim!" she exclaims. "I know you said we're not supposed to!"
Jiwoo and Chaeyoung shift anxiously, eyes downcast. You quickly kneel to soothe Jiyoo and reassure the other two. "Hey, hey," you say softly. "You're not in trouble. I know you three meant to do something nice, and it was very nice to pick me all these beautiful flowers. But Jiyoo-ya is right that we shouldn't eavesdrop. Coach and I were having a private conversation. And whatever is in a private conversation should stay between those two people unless someone is getting hurt, right?"
"Yes ..."
You pat Jiyoo's shoulders and smile at Jiwoo and Chaeyoung.
Jiwoo opens her mouth, then closes it, bringing her friends closer before addressing you. "Seonsaengnim ... can the flowers be from us instead, then?"
Ah, your heart melts a bit. You nod and stroke the bouquet, pressing the flowers to your nose and taking a big whiff. "Of course. I'll put them in a nice cup of water so they can stay on my desk. Thank you."
With all the bad feelings assuaged and a lesson learned, the girls are satisfied and return to playing, and you stand back up, sighing in relief.
"Wow." Seungmin plays with the lanyard hanging from his neck, and you cast him a withering glance as he raises an eyebrow at you. "So even the kids know."
"Seonsaengnim, we're on duty."
He shrugs, taking in a deep breath of sun-filled air. You look back out at your students running and laughing across the schoolyard before he speaks again.
"It's so simple for them. If you like someone, you don't have to worry about their five-year plan or family or Internet history or whatever. You just like them and give them flowers."
"Yeah." You hold your bouquet to your chest, wondering what Jooyeon will say when you tell him that your precious students have beaten him to it. "Kids are lucky."
—
four;
"You know, Seonsaengnim," Jiseok, the science teacher, tells you while you're photocopying extra portrait examples for tomorrow's class, "one might classify you as a homewrecker."
You sputter. "As a—sorry?"
"A homewrecker."
The printer continues to churn out Joseon-period court officials. You glance down at the faces, then at Jiseok, who leans against the overworked machine and returns your questioning gaze with a solemn one.
"Can you ... elaborate on that?" you plead.
"Of course. I'm referring to how my work bestie, Lee Jooyeon, is leaving me for the art teacher." Jiseok shakes his head. "Do you know how hard I've vouched for bridging the gap between the arts and sciences? I've coordinated lessons with you. Both of you have betrayed me!"
A snort leaves your nose. "Oh. You worried me for a second."
"You should be, Seonsaengnim. Even though Jooyeon is single and very available in terms of his personal life, the professional relationship between Jooyeon and me is essential for this school's ecosystem. If it is altered in any way, the effect would be disastrous."
"I don't see how your guys' relationship can get any more disastrous."
Before Jiseok can give a verbal reply, the door opens. Both of you look over, wide-eyed, at the sudden appearance of—well, Jooyeon.
"Hi," he says. "What are you guys doing?"
"Photocopying things in the photocopying room," you say as Jiseok wanders over to the neighboring photocopier to gather his own papers. "What are you doing?"
"Yeah," Jiseok drawls, a shit-eating grin on his face. "What are you doing, Jooyeon-ah?"
"The light was on, so I wanted to turn it off if nobody was in here," Jooyeon says, even though the door has a window. He turns to you. "I can carry your papers for you, Seonsaengnim."
You wave your hands. "You don't have to. I can do it."
"I want to do it."
"It makes me feel a little guilty, though."
With raised eyebrows, Jiseok slips past the two of you, throwing you two exaggerated thumbs ups behind Jooyeon's back before the latter turns to see what's going on. They pause for a moment, and you start to become a bit suspicious before Jiseok heads out and Jooyeon turns back to you.
"Don't feel guilty. You help me all the time, even when it's annoying."
His earnestness softens you yet again. You sigh with a smile, handing the warm stack of papers to him. "All right, then, here. As long as you tell Jiseok that I'm not leading you on."
At that, Jooyeon laughs, holding your papers against his chest and opening the door to let both of you out.
"What's wrong with being led sometimes?"
—
five;
You want to go home. You want to go home and take a shower and change into soft clothes and cry yourself to sleep in your bed.
Your breaths escape you in soft hisses between your hands. Your hands, damp despite having wiped the sweat from them a minute or two ago, press hard into your face. The fan on your desk whirs gently.
"Seonsaengnim?"
Shit.
Inhaling, you tear your hands from your face and reach for your water bottle, leaning back and taking a long sip of water to excuse your late reply. "Yes?"
"It's Jooyeon." You know. There's a lengthy pause behind the door before he continues, uncharacteristically tentative, "Can I come in?"
You probably look like a wreck. "Sure."
The door opens. You fiddle with the cap of your water bottle, not meeting Jooyeon's eyes as he steps in and carefully closes the door behind him.
Clearing your throat, you say wryly, "Sorry, no art lesson today."
"I know. I just heard about what happened." He looks down at you, brow furrowed. "Really, it's messed up."
"I just ... can't, sometimes." The frustration suddenly escapes you in a burst. You feel hot. "The parents want me to teach their kid. I can't teach them because they're busy bullying other students. I can't discipline them because I'm not their parent. I scold them for scratching another kid and the parents threaten to report me and tell me I should be fired. What am I supposed to do?"
Jooyeon bites the inside of his cheek. "... I don't know," he mutters. "At least you know you're not going to be fired."
You laugh, bitter. "Yeah. This time."
Resting your elbows on the desk again, you rub your temples, willing the sting behind your eyes to go away.
Movement from Jooyeon's position catches your attention. Your chair swivels and then he's close, almost too close, hands gripping the arm rests tightly as he says your title with conviction.
"You worked fucking hard for that title. If the school ever decides to throw you away because of shitty parents, then it's a shitty school and the rest of us should quit."
Your bottom lip trembles almost imperceptibly. "That's not fair to the kids."
"We'll open a new school for them."
"Their parents will still be shitty."
"I—come on!" Jooyeon whines as you chuckle wetly, shaking your chair with a pout. "I'm trying my best to comfort you here."
"I know," you say, wiping half a tear from your eye before grinning up at him. His expression lightens, and he lets go of your chair, only to continue hovering close. "Thank you."
He smiles back.
—
+ one;
"Seonsaengnim!" The sudden boom after hours of silence causes you to jump about ten feet in the air. You snap your head towards the door to see Jooyeon, who grins and waves at you. "Hi."
"Jooyeon-ssaem, you scared the crap out of me," you scold. The man's grin only broadens, and you shake your head, leaving the craft table to walk over to him. "What are you doing here? It's the weekend."
Jooyeon scratches the back of his head. "Ah … I forgot to finish some paperwork," he admits. "So I figured I should do it now before I forget again and get in trouble."
You raise your eyebrows. "Thinking ahead? That's new."
His eyelids crinkle at the corners as he laughs. That's Jooyeon for you—always taking your teases in stride. "You're so mean," he exclaims. "I was gonna say that I also came in because you said you were gonna be here today, but maybe you don't deserve my help."
"No, no, no, wait," you say quickly. Maybe a little too quickly, judging by the way his eyes glint. "I meant to say that you're proactive and hardworking and really helpful. Like, you always ask if I need help when you have time, because you're that nice."
He waves you off, feigning modesty. "Ah, please, I'm just doing my part. Anyway, do you need any help?"
"I thought you had paperwork?"
"It can wait for a little bit," he says dismissively. He leans to peek around you, then trots over to the craft table. "This is what you're working on?" He picks at one of the many small, triangular flags strewn over your table.
"Yep. The kids designed their own flag, and I'm putting them together to hang around the classroom. Oh!" You pick up one of the younger students' flags, showing Jooyeon a doodle of two stick figures. "Guess whose this is?"
Jooyeon squints at it for a few moments. Then he breaks into a smile and snickers, holding the other side of the flag in such a way that his fingertips meet yours underneath the paper.
"Shit, that's me! This's gotta be Hongseok's flag." He points at the taller stick figure, squiggled ponytail and all, running after the shorter stick figure. "This isn't true, by the way. He's never actually beaten me in a race yet."
"Really?" A proud nod. "Congrats on winning against a nine-year-old."
"He's the fastest kid in his class!"
You snort, letting go of the flag to cross your arms. "Y'know, most adults would let him win at least once. To encourage him?"
At that, Jooyeon shakes his head. "Nine-year-olds are smart enough to catch onto stuff like that. I'm teaching him persistence," he says. "Plus, I told him if he ever beat me, he wouldn't have to do P.E. for the rest of the year. I don't think the principal would like that."
"Ah, geez."
He sets the flag down with care, placing it where it had been before you'd picked it up. His eyes meet yours before he leans in conspiratorially. Your skin prickles in delight, even more so when his voice dips the slightest bit lower to accommodate the close proximity.
"I was the Hongseok in my class. It's bad to have favorites, but you won't tell on me, right?"
You swallow. "How can I, when you're my favorite teacher?"
"Aw, I am?"
"Don't look so smug. You already know that."
"I do?"
He seems to lean closer. The sunlight streaming through the window hits his skin and turns his eyes amber.
You have the sense to pull away and fuss with your flag project, adjusting the spacing for no particular reason. Dammit. You wish you had the guts to say something.
Jooyeon sticks by you nonetheless, still chipper.
"Since I'm your favorite teacher," he says, "do you want to take a lap around the track?"
You blink at him. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah, of course."
"I'm working."
"And how much have you gotten done since you started talking to me?" You open your mouth to protest, but he powers forward. "Just one lap. Exercise is important. Come on," he urges, shaking your shoulder. "It'll just be you and me. Don't you want to try to beat me in a race?"
You narrow your eyes. "'Try'?"
"Well, you said it yourself that you're slow."
And that's how you end up outside, tightening the knots of your shoelaces as Jooyeon hops up and down next to you on the school's running track.
"Ready yet?"
"Yep." You stand up and stretch your arms half-heartedly, wondering how liking your coworker this much has led to this situation.
"Okay," he chirps, leaning forward into position. You copy him. "One lap. Three, two, one, go!"
With that, Lee Jooyeon leaves you in the dust, practically halfway around the track by the time you register what had happened.
Gritting your teeth, you chase after him, pumping your arms in an attempt to catch up. He looks back more than once to see how far you are behind him, and you make a face at him whenever he does so. The promise of only one lap disappears from the back of your mind as you continue running after him after he's crossed the starting line.
"What! I won already!" he yells over his shoulder, fleeing to the grassy area inside the track.
"Yeah, so let me give you your prize!"
"No way!"
Still, he eventually stops short, whether out of belated pity or fatigue, and you barrel into him with reckless abandon.
The grass is slightly damp. Jooyeon topples over, bringing you along with him, and the two of you land with a groan.
"Ow, shit."
"Sorry."
"Nah, it's okay."
With him on his back and you on your stomach, one of your arms splayed across his chest, you start to remove yourself from him to push yourself up. A hand closes around your wrist before you can fully do so.
"Wait," Jooyeon says quickly, breathless. You lock eyes with him; his face is flushed and his gaze is wide. "What's my prize?"
You struggle to catch your breath. It seems much harder to do now. "I thought you didn't want it."
"I changed my mind."
"Hm." The sound that leaves your throat is rough. How can it not be, when Lee Jooyeon is staring up at you like that? You wet your lips and he seems to lock onto the movement. There are a million ways to answer him, but your mind is fuzzy from adrenaline and the lack of distance, and the only thing you can come up with is, "What if you don't like it?"
"I'll like it." There's not a shred of doubt in his tone, but it's raspy. "Pretty sure you'll like it too."
It's all the encouragement you need.
His other hand moves to the back of your head as you lean down and press your lips to his.
It's a short one. The groan Jooyeon lets out is enough to make you dizzy and his mouth is so soft you want to melt into it, but your stupid lungs still feel like they're going to collapse and you pull away to save them. Blood pounds in your ears, your chest heaving against his, and you almost don't know where your breaths stop and his begin.
Finally, you break the silence. "Does this mean we're work spouses now?"
Jooyeon stares at you, flabbergasted. "We better be more than that," he retorts, "'cause I'm gonna want you on top of me every single day."
You tap his chest, shushing him, and he laughs, pulling you in to peck your lips once more. And it's just as good as the first time.
can you tell me the words of love again, please; wherever you are, i'm reaching out to you from lost and found; let me be found.
(xdinary heroes, lost and found)
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