double
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ kindergarten teacher!wonpil x dance and music teacher!reader ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅
♡ genre/warnings: fluff
♡ word count: 4,506 words
♡ author’s note: no thoughts head empty just wonpil i love him so much kthxbye
──── ୨୧ ────
“Hello…?” You greeted tentatively, stepping quietly into the classroom. It was well past school hours, and the entire kindergarten was dark and deserted, except for this particular room at the end of the corridor.
A man with dark, curly hair, dressed in beige slacks and a white button down, stood in the middle of the room. His back was towards you, and he seemed to be organising the chairs and desks, presumably in preparation for tomorrow’s class.
“Uhm…” You walked further into the room, hoping to make yourself heard. “I applied for a position last week.”
There was still no response from the mysterious man. He was tall, but not too tall. And his shoulders were broad, but not too broad. His hair looked soft, and permed into loose curls. He seemed to be nodding his head along to music.
“Excuse me, I – ” You reached out to tap him on the shoulder, but he –
“Ah!” Wonpil whipped around, holding his stack of handouts against his chest like some sort of makeshift literary shield.
You couldn’t help the laughter drifting past your lips, and your eyes crinkled up in mirth. So, this was your first encounter with your new colleague.
Your handsome new colleague, to be exact.
“Romeo and Juliet?” You questioned, reading off the handouts. They seemed to be colouring sheets of the famous scenes from Shakespeare’s play. “You’re starting them early.”
Wonpil took a moment to compose himself. Not only was he scared out of his wits at the unexpected encounter, but he also found himself standing in front of a woman. Someone who was pretty, yes, and could tell a joke or two, but most importantly had kindness and warmth behind her sparkling eyes. Oh dear, he thought to himself. “Uh, yeah…” He nodded, hands coming up to scratch the back of his neck, nervous. “It’s never too early for Shakespeare.”
“I take it you teach English?”
“Yes, English, and Math, Korean, Science… I teach most things, really. Except for sports – I’m hopeless at it.” He admitted quite frankly, lips forming a pout in defeat.
You giggled at that. “How about dance?”
“Also not one of my many talents.” Wonpil paused, pieces of the puzzle fitting together nicely in his head. A lightbulb moment – “Oh! Are you the new dance teacher?”
“Bingo!” You nodded. “It’s nice to meet you! My name is Y/N. I’ll be the relief dance and music teacher. I hope we will work well together in the future.” You gave him a bow, to which he returned politely.
He extended his arm out for a shake. You accepted it, and tried your best to ignore the warmth spreading from your fingertips throughout the rest of your body. “It’s my pleasure, Y/N. I’m Wonpil. I look forward to working with you.”
──── ୨୧ ────
Since that unforgettable first meeting, your paths inevitably crossed with Wonpil’s. Whether it be lunch time at your adjacent desks in the teacher’s office, or on duty by the playground under the blistering sun, it seemed like every single time you turned a corner, your eyes would meet his.
Not that you were complaining, of course. You liked watching his face light up in recognition upon bumping into you yet again in the halls. You liked how his eyes crinkled up, forming cute little wrinkles at the edges. You liked how he’d give you a little wave and a small “hwaiting!” gesture to boost your morale. You liked seeing him around.
Slowly, but surely, you started to fall for him.
It was inevitable, really. Wonpil had a way with kids – he never once raised his voice, and was always gentle, but somehow, they all respected him and listened to his instructions. He got along well with the kids’ parents, and appeased any of their concerns with a few simple reassuring phrases. He even played with the kids during lunch, sometimes kicking a ball with them or pushing them on the swings. And not to mention, he regularly stayed behind after class to review lesson plans and set up his classroom for tomorrow’s class.
In other words, he was perfectly suited to his profession.
Your feelings for him deepened, however, after that one Friday evening, when you had just finished grading your class’ music theory homework. You had packed up your things, and mentally planned the perfect way to unwind after yet another long week (a beer, and a new episode of your latest drama), only to find lights filtering out of the music room as you walked past.
That, and a slow, calming melody. Someone was playing the piano.
Cautiously, your hand reached for the doorknob, and quietly opened the door. You didn’t want to disrupt the beautiful performance, so you tried to be as discreet as you could. Yet, despite being a dance teacher, moving stealthily really wasn’t one of your strong points.
The piano notes came to an abrupt stop, as your heels clicked along the surface of the parquet floors. You walked towards the front of the class, all eyes trained on the man behind the piano.
“You play?” You asked dumbly, breathless. From what little you heard of his piece, you knew he was an experienced pianist. Classically trained, even. “You never said anything…”
Wonpil scoffed playfully. “Why would I, when you’re perfectly capable? I’ve watched you with the kids, your passion for music is infectious. They have heaps of fun in your classes.” He praised you with ease, and you felt your cheeks warm up at his words. “Besides, I already teach so many subjects. Don’t you think my workload is heavy enough?”
And there it was, that easy, playful banter that flowed effortlessly between the two of you. Your lips cracked into a smile, as the cogs of your brain turned. You wanted, no – needed, to hear more of him.
“Mr Kim.” You raised your hand, as a student would, unable to hold back your laughter. You bit your bottom lip in anticipation. “How about a compromise? The kids are about to start practicing for their mid-year recital. It’s a contemporary dance piece, accompanied by a piano. I would play it myself, but as you know, my hands are full.” You teased him back. “You know, with the dancing and all.”
Wonpil considered this for a moment, his chin resting on his palm as he tilted his head to the side. You recognised it as his thinking face, having walked past his class one too many times only to catch a glimpse of the hard questions his kids threw at him daily, like “Mr Kim, why is the sky blue?”, “How does rain fall from the sky?”, or “Mr Kim, please! Why can’t I have another banana milk?”.
“So, what do you think?”
The man looked at you intently. Either way, it was a lose-lose situation. He could embarrass himself in front of the entire kindergarten and their parents, or you would call him a chicken for not taking up your offer. There was no winning against you. From the moment you first met, you took him by surprise, and continued to keep him on his toes. He could never predict your next move – one day you’d be glowing and gushing to him about how the class enjoyed your music class, or how they sang a piece perfectly like a choir of little angels, and the next you’d be sulking over your broken egg yolk at lunch, claiming that it ruined your entire meal (you could only be placated by Mr Kim’s emergency stash of banana milk, of course). Over the course of the semester, he got to witness your every mood, every side, every personality, and he wanted to keep peeling back the layers of you, one by one. He wanted to keep getting close to you.
Perhaps, this was the perfect way to do so.
“Deal.”
──── ୨୧ ────
“Alright, class! Let’s run through this one more time. Everybody, get into your starting positions!”
The class groaned collectively. “But Miss Y/L/N!” They whined in unison, little stomachs grumbling to signal the beginning of lunch.
Wonpil, who had been silent the entire session, tutted at the class from his corner, behind the grand piano. “Kids, this will be the last practice round before your performance. Miss Y/L/N promised, and she’s being very patient with all of you. Don’t you think she’s hungry too? Let’s all work together so we can enjoy our lunch as soon as possible.”
You flashed Wonpil a grateful smile. It was a Friday – the Friday before the big recital, and the kids were getting antsy. You couldn’t blame them though. You suppose your little body would be protesting too if you’d been dancing to the same tune over and over for the past two months (that is, even if the same tune was played on the piano by the most enchanting pianist you’d ever met).
Wonpil mouthed a “Sorry” in response, hoping that he hadn’t stepped on your toes by reprimanding your class on your behalf. You waved his concerns away, and went back to the task at hand. “Just one last time, and then we can all go outside for lunch. Ready, and a five, six, seven, eight…”
──── ୨୧ ────
Wonpil came up next to you, watching you as you watched the audience from behind the curtains. The stage light barely illuminated your face, but he could see the crease of your eyebrow as clear as day.
“Nervous?” He asked, bumping his shoulder with yours.
You nodded, chewing your bottom lip between your teeth. Wonpil couldn’t help but to stare – thank goodness your attention was elsewhere, otherwise you’d notice. “Yeah,” you let out a shaky breath, fingers fidgeting with your bracelet. “It’s a big day for them.”
Wonpil didn’t think, he just acted – he reached out and covered your restless fingers with his big, warm palms, enclosing your hand in his grasp. He squeezed. “It’ll be amazing – they’ll be amazing. You did amazing.” He emphasised, and when you turned to look at him, you were met with his gaze. His eyes were dark, swirling with steely determination, and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “Also, a little birdie told me that the principal was impressed with your rehearsal. So impressed, in fact, that there’s talks of offering you a permanent position.”
You gasped.
“Everyone, to your positions! Two minutes til showtime!” The stage manager called out, breaking the two of you out of your little bubble.
Reluctantly, you pulled away. His touch still lingered on your skin, like a warm blanket on a cold winter day. You straightened up and unnecessarily fixed your dress (you were backstage, after all).
“Y/N,” Wonpil said, his voice all too close to your ears. You decided you quite liked the way your name rolled off his tongue. Not Miss or Miss Y/L/N, but rather just plain old Y/N – a name reserved for when the two of you were completely alone. “C’mon, let’s do this.”
──── ୨୧ ────
For the entirety of the performance, you watched with bated breath, sweaty palms clutching onto the stage curtains like a lifeline. Your attention was divided; you weren’t sure where to look – at the audience’s faces, or at the kids who were moving gracefully across the stage in their dance costumes, or at the man sitting right in the corner, nearly obscured from sight, playing with the grace and flair of a concert pianist.
As the piece came to a close, and Wonpil wrapped up the final notes, the kids settled into their final positions and linked hands. Together, they gave a deep bow. Wonpil stood up from behind the grand piano, his white suit shining bright under the spotlight, and joined the kids on one end. Wordlessly, he beckoned for you to join the other.
Timidly, you stepped from behind your viewing spot and onto the stage. As a dancer and performer, you never quite got used to the feeling of being on stage. While thrilling, the weight of so many eyes on you made your heart pound. Even more so now, given that this was a piece that you choreographed and taught to the kids over two short months.
Again, all of you formed a perfect line, and bowed to the audience. They erupted in thunderous applause, with some parents even whistling and whooping to show their support.
“Miss,” The little girl directly to your left, Yeji, tugged at your red dress. “We have something for you.”
“Oh? No, it’s not for me, I…” You looked down at her in confusion. Just yesterday, you’d told the older kids in class about the bouquet you ordered for Wonpil, as a token of your appreciation. You passed it to the stage manager earlier this morning, but perhaps –
“Miss Y/L/N,” One of the stagehands emerged from backstage and presented you with a large bouquet of red roses that matched your dress.
“There must be a mistake, I got – ”
“There’s no mistake, look.”
You followed their line of sight to the end of the line, and saw another stagehand passing Wonpil a bouquet, your bouquet of red tulips – to symbolise respect, adoration, and passionate love.
You met his eyes. Your own prickled with hot tears, as his sparkled like stars in the night sky. You looked down at your bouquet, the intensity of his gaze too much to bear. Your senses were filled with the sweet, rosy fragrance of red roses – love, romance, passion, desire, commitment.
“Please give it up for Miss Y/L/N and Mr Kim!” The emcee announced.
The two of you stepped forward, and Wonpil grabbed your free hand before the two of you bowed to the audience once more. You looked at each other with admiration and pride, both of you proud of each other for the hard work you poured into this performance.
Of course, you couldn’t steal the kids’ spotlight. At that, each child was presented with pink carnations – gratitude (for putting up with you), fascination (at how quickly their dancing abilities improved) and love, of course.
──── ୨୧ ────
“Miss Y/L/N, do you like the flowers?” The boy, Jaewon, asked innocently. He was one of your older kids, and was likely in on both you and Wonpil’s surprise plans.
You were helping him out of his dance costume, so thankfully his vision was obscured. Otherwise, the poor boy would bear witness to your pink cheeks and flushed ears. “Yes,” you mumbled.
“You had no idea, right?” Yeji asked, also in the process of getting changed nearby. She was one of the chattier kids, and could have easily been a tattletale. “I tried so, so hard to keep it a secret because Mr Kim said so. It was so difficult!”
You laughed at the mental image of Wonpil sitting the children down at his feet and making sure they didn’t tell a single soul about his grand plans. “I had no clue, Yeji! I was so surprised.”
“That’s a relief.” Wonpil’s voice came from behind you. He walked into the dressing room and helped to gather up the remaining costumes.
Jaewon busied himself with his shoelaces once you helped him with his hoodie, insisting on doing it on his own because he had just turned six and was a big boy now. “Miss Y/L/N, Mr. Kim?”
“Yes?” You both hummed in unison.
“Does that mean you’ll get married now?”
“What?” You shrieked in disbelief. Wonpil simply laughed. Who knew a six year old boy would turn out to be a better wingman than any of his friends.
“Well,” his tongue stuck out in concentration as his little fingers worked on a butterfly knot. “My dad gives my mum flowers all the time, and they’re married and they have me and my little sister. So does that mean you’ll get married too? And have babies?”
“Okay, Jaewon, I think your mum is waiting outside for you. Let’s get you home, shall we? It’s been a long day.” Wonpil ushered the boy out, helping him up and past your shell-shocked figure.
“Miss, do you like Mr Kim?” Yeji asked innocently, her pigtails swinging as her head tilted to the side, questioning.
You gulped. How were you going to explain your way out of this? After all, children can’t lie, and they can see right through the lies adults tell themselves. “Yeah, I do…”
You didn’t know it, but Wonpil caught your answer just as he was exiting the dressing room. His heart soared.
──── ୨୧ ────
You were kicking stones with your feet, glancing down at your phone every so often.
“Great job tonight, Miss Y/L/N!” One of your kids’ parents greeted you as they drove past.
You bowed at them with gratitude. “Thank you, Mrs Park! Get home safe!”
And then, silence.
You sighed to yourself. This was the second Uber that cancelled your request. It was getting late, and it seemed like no driver was willing to drive halfway across the city to get you home. You groaned, hating your decision to live further away from the city and the rest of civilisation in favour of cheaper rent. If only you could make this job a permanent one, then perhaps you could consider moving…
“Hey.” A familiar voice reached your ears.
You turned around, only to find Wonpil walking towards you in a grey hoodie and jeans. Internally you wondered how a person could look that attractive in such a casual outfit. You thought that perhaps it was because you were so used to seeing him in formal work clothes.
You flashed him a smile – a tired one. “Hey yourself.”
He came to stand next to you, and peered over your shoulder at your phone screen. From how close you were standing to each other, you could just make out the scent of his cologne. It made you slightly weak in the knees.
“Are they all cancelling?”
You hummed dejectedly. “It’s cos I live so far away. This always happens…”
“How do you get home when you stay back late then?” He wondered.
“I take the bus. Well, three buses.” You smile, slightly embarrassed. “Rent is cheap – you know how it is.”
Wonpil nodded in understanding. He too knew how hard it was to afford a place close to the city, let alone close to the school. He found it challenging on a full-time salary, so he couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like for you. He was about to comment on how it was not safe for you to take public transport so late at night, but bit his tongue.
“It’s fine,” you chirped. “Someone will pick me up soon.”
“I could take you home.” Without thinking, the words had already left Wonpil’s lips. He clutched your bouquet in his hands, and looked at you, who also held his bouquet close to your chest. Beneath the huge bouquet, your heart was threatening to burst right out of your ribcage. “I mean, if you’d like.” He added after a beat.
You smiled bashfully. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
──── ୨୧ ────
The ride back to your place was over thirty minutes long on a quiet night, but to you, it felt like it passed way too quickly. You didn’t want it to end.
Driving on the highway, passing the black wilderness in Wonpil’s old Toyota, made you feel like the two of you were the only human beings on earth. It was late, the streets were empty and quiet, save for the music playing softly from the speakers (passenger privileges meant you had full control of the AUX), and the laughter spilling out of your lips.
Being with Wonpil like this was effortless. He was cracking a joke about some parent who pulled him aside and asked whether he could give private piano lessons to their child who was already doing Taekwondo on weeknights, and swimming on weekends, and not to mention math olympiad training on Fridays. Math olympiad, at the ripe old age of six.
You turned to watch him, enchanted. Wonpil always spoke about his kids like they were one of his own. He knew each of the little human beings like the back of his hand – what they liked and disliked, what they struggled with in class, and how to get them motivated after a setback. His eyes twinkled with excitement as he rambled on about how two girls in his class just made up after a fight, no doubt with a little encouragement from him. It only took a short conversation and a banana milk from his emergency stash for one of the girls to walk over to the other, holding out the milk as a peace offering.
“You’re perfect at this job.” You whispered in awe.
“So are you,” he countered. From the corner of his eye, he could see you shiver slightly, and turned up the heater to keep you warm. “Don’t even try to deny it. The kids love you, and they listen to you. It’s not easy to keep them engaged and following the choreography, but they did, all thanks to you.”
“Stop it.” You blushed at his compliments.
“I mean it! All the kids, they adore you, and you only just started teaching them this year.” Wonpil continued earnestly. You couldn’t stop yourself from burying your face in your hands, not knowing what else to do whilst he showered you with compliments and kind words. “I’ve known them for more than a year, so we’ve already built that relationship. But they look forward to your classes, and I can see how they’re all bouncing with energy and excitement before you begin. And how they leave your room humming a new tune you taught them, or subtly practicing a new dance move. I think it’s great that you’ve expanded their horizons. Kids are so busy with studying these days, it’s important that they have a creative outlet too.”
You groaned, not used to this amount of praise. “Wonpil…”
“What? I’m telling the truth.” He looked at you briefly, as the car stopped at a traffic light. He reached out and gave your shoulder a pat, his hand lingering there for longer than necessary. “You did a great job, Y/N. And like I said, I think the principal will have some good news for you next week.”
The thought of landing a permanent role at this school sounded too good to be true. Not only did you absolutely adore your kids, the school’s administrative staff were reasonable and fair. It also went without saying that you got along with your colleagues quite well. You let his words linger in the air, as you contemplated your future. You really hoped his words were true.
“Right,” Wonpil’s car slowed to a stop outside your driveway. “I believe this is you.”
“Yup, this is me.”
The two of you sat in silence, both unwilling to say a word, lest you broke the peaceful, cozy atmosphere in his car.
“I –”
“Thank you –”
You both spoke at the same time. Both of you laughed.
“You first.” Wonpil insisted, gesturing for you to continue. His hands reached to turn on the lights inside his car, illuminating your face with a soft, warm glow.
You played with your fingers. “Thank you, Wonpil.” Your eyes, flooded with sincerity, met his. “I couldn’t have pulled it off without you, truly.” You took a deep breath and looked away. “Honestly, the previous school I worked at… It was nothing short of a nightmare. Just the usual, bad parents, awful staff, backstabbing colleagues, you know how it is. But this school is so different.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied, pure sadness laced in his tone.
“Which is why I really want to stay. I had so much fun with kids these past few months. Everyday, I wake up excited to see them in my classroom. Their smiles fill me with so much joy, and to watch them tonight… I got a little emotional. I’m so proud of them, Wonpil.”
He smiled at that. He knew how you felt, being a teacher himself. The pride teachers felt for their kids and the dedication to shape them into contributing, respectable members of society were one of the many reasons why he got out of bed too. “Me too. But Y/N, you need to give yourself more credit. It’s not easy taking over a class in the middle of a semester, and to pull off a performance too with a class of twenty six-year-olds who can barely sit still. I think you’ve done a great job, and I’m definitely not the only one who thought so. The kids were practically buzzing and jumping when I suggested getting flowers to thank you for your hard work.”
You laughed, feeling embarrassed again at the mention of the double bouquets. “I… I guess so.”
“Did you read the card?”
“What card?”
Wonpil nodded his head towards the bouquet that was seated upon your lap.
You searched within the bouquet and found a small pink card. Opening it, it read:
“Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Sugar is sweet,
and so are you.
Will you be the Juliet to my Romeo?
Yours,
Wonpil.”
You looked up, and was faced with the cheesiest smile plastered on Wonpil’s face. “So, what do you say?”
Your lips worked into a smile, as your eyes crinkled up into little crescents. “Wonpil, they die at the end of the play!”
“What, it’s romantic! You know, til death do us part!”
You rolled your eyes at that, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you tried and failed to suppress a giggle.
“C’mon, Y/N…” Wonpil whined. “Don’t leave me hanging, please…”
You put the card aside, and leaned forwards. Your fingers twisted around the strings of his hoodie and pulled him towards you, only stopping when your faces were mere centimetres apart. You stared into his eyes, the eyes you grew to search for in every room; in every circumstance. The eyes that bore into you with the same, unwavering intensity. His breath hitched, and you watched his glaze flicker towards your lips.
You closed the distance, and your lips met in a slow, gentle dance. Wonpil was shy, gliding his lips slowly across yours, as though he had all the time in the world. You were more eager, pulling him impossibly close and wrapping your arms around his neck, fingers playing with the ends of his hair. You felt his hands hold your cheek so tenderly, so gently, as though you were fragile porcelain. It made you want to throw yourself into him fully – you wanted to give yourself to him in every sense of the word. No one had ever held you like that. No one had ever made you feel so precious.
After a few minutes that felt like hours, you pulled away reluctantly for air. “Here’s my answer.” You whispered against his lips.
Perhaps the kids were right – you were perfect for each other.
