with full disclosure*
Alright, okay — so she can’t say she didn’t have it coming. Especially so when dealing with the likes of Professor Han, a man with probably the most impeccable ability of turning the tides at whim. That acute sense of timing, be it consciously done or not, only makes her sense of astonishment that much more profound, but she’s quick to drop the look, foregoing any questions of “What?” and “Why?” for forced laughter.
“Eyyy, ssaem— I don’t think you’d want to put that up,” she leans against the bookshelf, a free hand waves away the thought in a dismissive motion, the other kept tucked behind the small of her back, fingers crossed in the face of the feared possibility that he knows. She had assumed that he wouldn’t ( to be fair, the guy looks like he’s done nothing but deal with numbers his whole life — sorry not sorry ssaem ), but perhaps this was the consequence of making such assumptions. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, she supposes, though it really shouldn’t even be that big of a deal.
But as she’s made to stare at the neatly aligned rows of lines and dots across the page, the weight of her embarrassment ( though not visible; at least she’s good at keeping that ) only feels heavier; something that had been meant for shits and giggles on her behalf having backfired in the most unannounced direction — any chance that he doesn’t know now is probably nothing but wishful thinking. Yet she grabs onto what little sliver of possibility that remains, stubborn girl, continuing to skirt around what she had done with practiced obliviousness.
“I mean — it’d be kind of weird you know?” It’s followed with an exaggerated raise of her shoulders, an act of practiced nonchalance, but deep down she’s praying that he gets the message. "Don’t you have like, I don’t know, a certificate or whatever? Something actually worth putting up?“
he considers it a good sign that she doesn’t question him. ( at least, directly. ) changmin doesn’t miss her look--something caught between disbelief and in-credulousness--but, like her, the professor chooses not to acknowledge it verbally. instead, he lifts a hand and gives her shoulder an absent pat; a gesture only meant to ease superficial worries. he has not a single intention of letting her have her way.
and he already knows her way will leave him with one less wall decoration.
“why wouldn’t i?” changmin questions innocently enough, glancing sidelong at the youth making herself comfortable in his office. her posture, straighter than usual, hints at something lying just beneath the surface; and already, he has a good guess as to what it is. “it’s a rather good gift.” only then does he cast a glance down at the seemingly innocuous sheet of paper. and slowly, quietly--with a gradually rising voice--he begins to read the code written across it.
out loud.
“dear han-ssaem--”
ah, dear is scratched out.
nevertheless, he continues through, unfazed by the dawning sense of horror on his student’s face--”you think i’m a great teacher, sooyoung. it’s all written right here. should i read it verbatim? or you could read it to me?” his head tilts, expression lingering on open curiosity. it’s the best glimpse that anyone might get into han changmin’s mind; a door held open for the time being, “certificates are hardly personal. it just means i pleased some professor. but i’m not teaching my professors--not like i’m supposed to be teaching my students.”
he holds said paper up, wagging it back and forth for a moment, “this is worth more.”
“but i’d like you to sign your name to it, and read it verbally. i’ll make it worth your while.”
