Chapter Text
Books and movies and other types of stories that in some way, shape or form make use of writing as their basis, always start off with a sentence that’s supposed to capture it’s consumer. Or rather: the opening is damn important.
Hanbin never denied this. He wanted to. Very badly. But his predisposition for needing everything to be perfect didn’t allow him the chance to just make things a little more simple. Every single work he’d handed in for his creative writing classes had always come back with a near perfect grade but with the side note that his opener “should be stronger.” He knew that his professor knew that Hanbin spent most of his time during the writing process on writing only the first sentence, yet his professor didn’t really seem to care. Besides, he didn’t hate professor Yoon in the slightest. He actually admired the man’s ability to see right through him from day one but it was currently his biggest source of academic frustration too.
When the semester had started off, Hanbin was glad that he could finally take some electives during his second year at university. He loved every bit of his regular classes and had made great friends at his part-time job and at the dance club but ever since he learned that he could take a course in creative writing he couldn’t wait until it was finally his turn.
His passion for writing started in high school. It wasn’t out of character for him to pick up new hobbies every now and then but this was different. His grades had always been good which is probably why people always expected him to follow a career that matched his intellect. His uncles wanted him to follow in their footsteps and take on business and law school. If they paid attention to their nephew though they would have known that type of job would make him miserable. At school the headmaster was sure Hanbin would become the brightest surgeon of his generation. Many school assemblies had come and gone where Hanbin, as the student body president, had promptly been used as an example of ‘the pride and dignity of the school.’ Always being pushed forward by some teacher to say a few words and always choking up upon having to speak unprepared.
It wasn’t like he didn’t have anything to say. Hanbin just preferred to word everything perfectly. His senior year really changed the way he looked at words. He knew better now than to go to an assembly unprepared, so he spent days preparing and writing his speeches. It didn’t matter that they were just short instances, hasty moments of all the school’s attention on him. He didn’t want to be one of those people who took their time talking but who in the end haven’t really said anything. How could people not convey any meaning even when there are so many words to choose from?
The moment Hanbin had to explain to all these grown-ups, who seemed to want him to bend in certain directions, that he was not going to abide by any of their wishes in terms of his studies, was the moment his passion for writing switched from practical to creative writing. His family didn’t take it very well that he was going to university as a contemporary dance major and his teachers at school weren’t all that much better. When he was in the teachers’ lounge on student body president business he overheard his physics and chemistry teachers talking about ‘a waste of potential’ and ‘a dishonor to the school.’ As if he had owed them anything.
Creative writing offered him an escape. It was a place for him to be allowed to be anything and achieve anything he wanted. He could take other people’s points of views or write about people he’d never even met. He could create worlds where none of these things mattered or even existed and where everything would happen according to his own rules. He never wanted to seriously achieve anything with his writing but his perfectionism always got the best of him and so this, too, became something he wanted to be better at.
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Professor Yoon saw through him from day one. He didn’t hate it. It was just something he’d never experienced before. Maybe it came with his years of teaching this elective class and seeing many different types of people, or maybe it was just a necessary personality trait for a professional writer of fiction to be able to understand people’s personalities really well. After all how can you write stories about people without understanding humankind? Whatever the underlying reason; professor Yoon saw through him from day one. The first class of the course had started off with the TA taking attendance and reminding everyone who hadn’t handed in their required first story yet, that they had until the end of the day to do so. Upon signing up for the elective, all students had received an e-mail informing them about the assignment. It was, so the e-mail said, to ‘take note of everyone’s level and writing style.’ Hanbin was terrified. He had not expected they had to hand in an assignment before the semester had even started, yet here came professor Yoon with his perfectly drawn up e-mail. He didn’t have a choice but to hand something in.
He knew the TA was not addressing him but he still felt uneasy. He looked around the room to take in all of his fellow students. It was quite a popular class it seemed. The room was filled with unfamiliar faces. He turned back around when professor Yoon entered the room. He greeted the students and took his place behind the laptop where the TA had set up his powerpoint presentation for the class.
Hanbin opened his notebook on a fresh page and just as he was grabbing a pen from his pencil case professor Yoon started talking.
“Sung Hanbin?”
Hanbin’s eyes shot up to where professor Yoon looked around the lecture hall in search of the person belonging to the name he had just called.
“Yes?” Hanbin stood up slightly in the limited space between his drawn up desk and his tip-up chair to make his presence known to the professor.
“Come see me in my office on floor G2 after class.” Professor Yoon looked down at his laptop for a moment. “Welcome to Introduction to Creative Writing everyone. I’m professor Yoon. Let’s begin shall we?”
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Hanbin felt like his insides were eating him alive. The entire class he'd been trying to figure out why on earth professor Yoon would want to speak to him. And why was it so urgent that the man had called his name before the class had even started? He'd completely missed professor Yoon's introductory speech, his mind too occupied with figuring out the reason. It was only when they apparently had to pair up for a speaking assignment that he was called back to reality.
"Don't worry too much," a voice from beside him called, "professor Yoon's not the strict type."
Hanbin looked up to where the voice came from. The young, dark haired man looked at him with an apologetic smile. If Hanbin wasn't in complete distress over possibly being scolded he would've noted the man's handsome features. He had a sharp jawline and a masculine bone structure, but his eyes radiated a certain warmth and friendliness. He looked older than Hanbin, so the guy was probably his senior. Upon realising that Hanbin was too dumbfounded to even respond, the guy continued: "Hanbin, was it? Listen, I get your worry but I really promise, it's probably a good thing he wants to talk to you."
"How do you know?" Hanbin finally replied, voice still small and obviously laced with worry.
"It's the third elective I'm taking from him. I usually don't stick to professors all that much but this guy actually teaches. And he cares about his students. You see how many people are here? By the end of this week he'll know all of their names and all of their stories. He's not just someone who knows a lot about a certain subject like most professors are. He actually cares to help his students to live up to their potential."
Hanbin, slightly more at ease now, looked back at the professor. He wasn't a stiff guy in his mid fifties like most other professors he'd been taking courses with. Hanbin assumed he was in his early thirties. He was engaged in conversation with a pair of students on the first row, asking them critical questions and ever so slightly coaching them in a different direction rather than simply telling them what to do.
The guy next to him continued: "I'm Jiwoong by the way. We should maybe go and find a partner now. Professor Yoon might not be strict, but he does take his job seriously and he expects his students to do the same."
Hanbin looked up once again. The guy, Jiwoong apparently, looked at him with a soft smile.
"Thanks for the encouraging words Jiwoong. I think I really needed to hear that. Would you..." He wanted to ask Jiwoong to be his partner for this assignment. Simply because he didn't know anyone else and also because it took him so long to get back on his feet that mostly everyone had already partnered up.
Jiwoong chuckled. "If you were gonna ask if I want to be your partner then sure. I'm a senior though so I'm really only taking this course because I need the credits. I'm an acting major. I'm bad at writing but I guess pretty good at delivering?" Jiwoong ended that last sentence with a small hint of a question. He sounded almost unsure.
Hanbin wanted to work with him none the less "Well, Jiwoong sunbae, it's a speaking assignment. If anything I guess you'll be amazing." Hanbin smiled at him. Trying to convey that he fully trusted Jiwoong to be a good choice of partner.
"Oh, you can call me hyung. It doesn't feel right to be called sunbae when this is not even my field of expertise." Jiwoong laughed.
"Okay, hyung," Hanbin said. "mind filling me in on what exactly our assignment is? I kind of missed that earlier." Hanbin admitted, cheeks flushing red in slight embarressment.
The two got to work. Neither of them noticed professor Yoon's keen eye looking at them admiringly.