@juminweek2019 Day Two: Touch and Caged
a/n: I have no idea what the hecky-heck this is. I just really like Professor!Jumin.
In front of his door, MC remembered where once she would count through all of the worse scenario instances in her head, of all possible ways to greet him. Hi Dr. Han I just— H-h-hey Professor Han did you know— Jumin Han, I am— Dr. Jumin Han—
Jumin Han...I’m in love with you.
Countless days she wandered to the professor’s building, searching for him during his office hours. She’d never entered his room, never dreamed of it. Instead MC settled for sitting at the front during lectures, listening intently and fondly as he listed through different plots and rules of the business world. She absorbed every and all information that he provided as best as she could. On bad days, when she could tell he was distressed, she’d buy him a hot tea and leave it on his desk in the lecture hall. When he had his good days, which were more often than his worse, she’d smile and greet him—wave and ask about his day. Because that was what she wanted from him. To smile, and say hello, and ask about her. But she never asked for anything in return. Her heart would flutter with content when he would nod his head and give a brief response. Sometimes when he responded with an anecdote about his cat Elizabeth the Third and a faint grin, she knew she beamed far brighter than a student just being polite should be.
But in class, everyone tried to wriggle themselves into the heart of the ever cold-stared Dr. Han. And MC didn’t want him to think that was what she wanted. She wanted him. Not his favor.
She wanted to know him. Not as a professor.
As her senior year drew to a close, she found however, that no longer taking his class led to most sessions in person with him to be scarce. But the one or two times a week when she could see him, she found their encounters different. The corners of his lips quirked a bit, his eyes seemed to brighten, and his posture almost relaxed. When he called out to her, it was no longer “Ms. MC” it had become just “MC”. A stuttering hope filled her chest, one that she tried not to nurture.
So when her best friend invited her out a party, MC told herself why not. “You only live once,” her friend had added. “You don’t want to waste it on a professor, right?” Afterall she’d be graduating from university, and would move on. She needed to move on from what her parents liked to call a ridiculous and immature crush. Maybe they were right. Going to a party, meeting new people who were eligible and her age would most definitely be far more appropriate.
The party had been great at first. Load music roaring in her ears. Guys and girls, girls and girls, guys and guys, all dancing together in one giant hodge-podge of sweaty jive. Flashing colorful lights and cold drinks that left burning trails down her throat, MC had tried to ignore the voice of reason that sounded a lot like the disdained voice of a certain professor. So when a man took her hand and pulled her into the club’s rhythm, she did not refuse him. Crashing noise, crashing bodies, it was a wave that pulled her into the flow of the chaotic world around her. Because the one time she pulled herself away from the thoughts of Jumin Han, it was as if everything around her collapsed.
The man led her away from the crowd and whispered harsh, lewd nothings into her ear. She didn’t like it; but she never said no. She gave him a faint and shy nod, a half-hearted muttered yes. When he pushed her up against the wall and asked her what she wanted, MC could only think about large, blanched and bony hands—storm grey eyes and dark knitted brows, a fine thin mouth, and soft strands of feathered raven hair.
And the man that caged her between his body and the wall was not what she wanted.
So she pressed her hands against his chest and shoved him away, she left and went home without her best friend too. Without her permission, her body trembled. Without her say-so, her eyes wept hot and salty tears.
So this was how MC found herself, first thing in the morning, in front of Jumin Han’s office door. How many times had she done this so meaninglessly, pacing back and forth but never entering? Now, of all times she decided to approach the open doorway. His deep tenor lilted from the doorway and she paused, he was talking to someone. She hadn’t noticed anyone in there before hand but that didn’t mean anything. Maybe he was on the phone.
Flashes of a stranger’s shoulders and the press of some other man’s chest flooded her mind, and MC pressed a hand to her mouth to suppress a sob. What the hell am I doing? All of this needs to stop. She clenched her free hand into a fist and turned sharply on her toes. Her eyesight blurred and the breath in her chest heaved. She needed to leave right this minute.
The call of her name had been so calm, so sure.
MC turned her head just slightly to see Jumin Han standing in the doorway with his brows raised slightly. His expression went from questioning to concerned in an instant and she wondered if it was her probably distressed look of her expression or the rivulets of tears that by now had spilled over her eyelids. Whatever it was, her professor did not hesitate to reach out his hand. He said no words.
Only looked from his hand to her’s, curling his fingers gently.
In the back of her head, she could hear that little chirp of reason telling her to just walk away.
But her body worked against her, and her grasp found his. It was warm, and the slight callous of his hands rubbed gently over her skin as he lightly tugged her into his office. He closed the door behind them, before turning back to her. His arms crossed over his chest and he gave her a thorough look-over.
Her shoulders shook and she found she cried harder.
Her hand did a poor job of blocking her mouth, of muffling her words. Broken and weak sobs slipped past her lips as she told him everything. Her crush on him since freshman year. Wanting to see him smile. The party from last night. Begging that he rescue from the stupid situation she put herself in.
“I’m so ridiculous,” she cried, scrubbing furiously at her eyes when she realized that she should honestly be slinking away. “I never meant to bother you with any of this, to tell you any of this. I just always thought that—”
In her mind she never got past confessing to him; she always expected a word of distaste from him or an angry quirk of his eyebrows. Instead, when she finally braved looking up at him, she found his grey gaze widened and his mouth slightly parted. A faint hue of color spread along the curve of his cheekbones and if she didn’t know any better, MC would have said he was blushing.
Even when her voice tried to stick to the walls of her throat, she still managed to choke out a “...Dr. Han?”
He stared a bit longer at her before slowly raking his hand through his hair with a dazed look. “Pardon, me MC. I just...never expected you to enjoy my company in return.”
She laughed, the first time in the last twenty-four hours, before realizing he was serious. Despite their puffy and tender state, her eyes rounded in incredulity and she twisted her hands in one another. Surely she’d misunderstood him. “I’m sorry what?”
His eyelashes fluttered for a moment, and he gave her a narrowed glance. “May I do something?”
“What will you do?” She murmured back, her fingers tightening in her fists. This was a dream. This was a crazy and insane dream, and if she woke up she would sob for days.
“You’ll have to find out.” He smiled.
Jumin Han smiled. At her. It was a shy thing, radiant and nervous, and yet there was a conviction in his glance that prompted her to take a step closer to him. God was she desperate? Surely she wasn’t this desperate for him—
“Please,” MC heard herself saying. “Surprise me then.”
Jumin inclined his head with an amused smirk, before reaching out and gathering her into his arms. MC gasped out, goosebumps trailing her skin as his hands skimmed up and down her spine before their touch held firm at the base of her head and the small of her back. His nose nuzzled into the crown of her head, and beneath her cheek she felt his chest rise and fall with a sigh. Her hands found his sides, and her fingers clenched and wrinkled his vest. Warm. He was so warm. Her breathing began to match his and MC found herself burying her face into his chest.
“Is this better?” he whispered, voice low and gentle. “Than last night.”
“Way better,” her voice trembled.
The hand on her back rubbed soothing circles, fingertips tenderly pressing into her skin.
She held him tighter. “I’m dreaming.”
“If we are both sharing this vision,” he chuckled. “Ms. MC I would not like to be disturbed from such a dream.”
She giggled and refused to look up at him. If she did, then surely this moment would end. “I graduate in two more months.”
“Then I will wait.” His chin pressed onto the top of her head. “Afterall, you put yourself through the trouble of waiting for this whole time.”
She flushed furiously and finally stared up at him, ready to protest. But Jumin’s finger hooked lightly under her chin, and he rested his forehead on hers. Shy and hesitant, her fingers found his free hand, and she laced her hold into his. They stayed there, pressed in a fragile and fluttering embrace. MC smiled and tilted her head back, nose gently brushing against his. Jumin laughed softly, and moved his hand to cup her cheek. They did not move closer, just stayed, pleased in tranquil warmth.
Unlike the sharp crudeness of last night, it was a slow and sweet dance that they swayed to in tandem.
