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Chapter Text

It was the first day back at school at Gi-hun was already late. Excellent.

Really, he shouldn’t have expected anything different. His organisational skills were not great at the best of times, and after having so long off of work his routine was all out of wack. He only had enough time to tug on a pair of pants and a crumpled collared shirt, stuff a piece of dry toast into his mouth, and fumble together his papers into a bag. Gi-hun remembered his blazer and tie just at the moment he was about to close his front door which caused him to rush back into his room and send half his closet sprawling over his bed.

After finally making it out of his apartment, Gi-hun rushed down the street with no worries for looking nonchalant. After a light sprint to his train station, he tried to get there as quickly as he could. Thankfully, his station was only a block away, and the stop wasn’t usually that busy. That meant he could find a seat with relative ease, which was good because the last thing he needed right now was having to stand in a cramped train compartment for the whole ride: his knees were certainly not as spry as they used to be, and despite his seemingly permanent sunny disposition, somethings could certainly turn his day sour.

In some divine act of god, Gi-hun, managed to arrive at the station just as the train was pulling in and only slightly sweaty. He rushed through the barrier and found a seat next to a sweet-looking grandpa and a stressed woman holding a potplant with a curiously large tulip. As the the train pulled out of the station smoothly, Gi-hun himself relax into the seat. His mind wandered to the coming day: as usual, there were a couple of new teachers to meet. If he could remember correctly, there was a new Physics teacher who was replacing the grumpy old professor who seemed to have taught at the school longer than Gi-hun had been alive. He was glad about the change, but apprehensive to meet the new teacher. Most of the time the members of the Science Department seemed to be overly cagey and unwilling to participate in a conversation with a lowly Ethics teacher, which had always put a damper on Gi-hun’s day.

The train steadily began filling up as they got closer and closer to the centre of the district. Before no time, the cart was teeming with people on there way to work. Gi-hun was deeply distracted by picking the dirt out from under his fingernails when the train suddenly jolted and braked, sending someone careening into his lap and squishing the air out of his body. Gihun reached his hand up to help the person which immediately proved useless as his hand went limp in the air the moment he locked eyes with the man.

Oh.

Oh.

 The man’s dark hazel hair had been tousled during his fall and fell over his eyes in a curtain. Still, Gi-hun could see his brown eyes widen in surprise through the smooth fringe of his hair. His jawline was sharp and defined and his cheekbones were wonderfully high, artfully contouring his face the almost deadly acuteness. The man's cheeks began to endearingly flush with embarrassment.

He and Gi-hun remained completely frozen. The man had been standing with his back to him, so when the train had jostled everyone he had toppled backward onto Gi-hun’s thighs. Gi-hun could feel the weight of him against the top of his legs and, embarrassingly, began to blush as well.

Gi-hun felt compelled not to move or even breathe. The man’s proximity to him and caused an old emotion to well up in his throat, an emotion he didn’t want to inspect too closely. Gi-hun was frozen by the man’s unending eyes, and he had a feeling the man felt the same way about him.

“Ohahh!! How rude!! Not even an apology!!” The lady holding the massive tulip next to Gi-hun exclaimed, staring with scandal at the mystery man. Suddenly, as if the spell between them had been broken, the man leaped off Gi-hun and immediately ducked into a deep bow.

“I am so sorry,” punctuated by another bow “Sir. Please,” bow “forgive me.” By the time had stopped aggressively keeling over, he faced Gi-hun but could not seem to make eye contact with him again. His cheeks were burning red.

Gi-hun let out a gentle smile accompanied by a chuckle. “That’s okay, Mister. It was just an accident. And hey, you don’t have to call me sir. I’m not much older than you.” He could barely stumble the words out between his blushed cheeks.

“Of course,” the man obliged, this time only inclined his head in respect, his face still as solemn as ever. Gi-hun could not dispel the sudden eruption of butterflies in his stomach; he only wished the man would lighten up a bit. 

The man looked at Gi-hun nervously through his lashes, smoothing down his crisp shirt and slacks, fidgeting his right hand with his briefcase.  Gi-hun exhaled a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding- something about the man’s eyes had just entranced him. He couldn’t look away from the brownness of them even if he tried. He felt a tangible connection between the two and was almost convinced the other man could as well- if the unfading blush high on his god-like cheekbones was anything to go off of.

“Hremh. No manners,” the lady next to Gi-hun mumbled loudly enough under her breath so the other man could still hear. The man bit his lip as he inclined his head once more, seemingly having to make himself tear his eyes off Gi-hun before walking away and fading into the obscurity of the train compartment.

“Horrible man,” the woman said, louder this time and directly to Gi-hun.

“Yeah,” Gi-hun absent-mindedly replied, watching the man’s back disappear into the crowd feeling unusually breathless. “Yeah, he was.” But he couldn't shake the feeling he had just let someone very special get away.

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Fortunately, Gi-hun actually made it to school on time. He wandered through the gates so dazed by his experience with the man that he couldn’t focus on what he was doing at all. He ended up accidentally running into a group of students who he recognized from his class. In typical Gi-hun fashion, he struck up a conversation that lasted much longer than it should have- not that he minded. He loved talking to the students, and they loved him back. Gi-hun was determined to be the type of teacher he never had but always wanted in school. The bell ended up cutting their conversation off, so he watched as all the students scuttled to their lockers in time for their next class. Gi-hun realized with a start he had missed the staff meeting and, subsequently, missed meeting the new teachers. Oh well. He would have the chance during lunch to meet them anyway. 

He made his way to the lounge to put his things away in his locker and brag his timetable from a pile on one of the tables. Gi-hun was excited to meet his new class, but, as always, was already late for the lesson. The bell had gone by the time he made it to the hall, in which he found the class had already seated themselves.

“Hello everyone!” He greeted as he walked in. “So sorry I’m late. I’ll try not to make it a habit. How did you all get in?” He could recognize most people in the class from the previous year, so there wasn’t the awkward shyness that accompanied a new teacher with most students. A girl, Kim Jun-hee, answered his question. 

“A new teacher let us in, sir.”

A boy, Kang Ha-neul from the back of the class chimed in “He was quite stern and annoyed with you not turning up ‘cause he said we were ‘causing too much racket’ and ‘disrupting the other classes’.”

“Hrrm… well, I have to ask… were you all being disruptive?” Gihun asked playfully, cocking a brow.

The class exchanged a sheepish look and Gihun let out a gentle chuckle. “Alright, everyone. Let’s get started.”

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All throughout the next period and outwards he kept hearing whispered conversations about the new teacher. As a science-based school, most students at Changdong High completed classes in all the main sciences. From what Gi-hun overheard, the reactions to the man seemed to be quite mixed: some seemed to be terrified of the man’s cold demeanor while others found his mystifying behavior quite appealing. By the time lunch had swung around, Gi-hun’s interest was thoroughly peaked and his stomach grumbling with hunger.

He made his way into the staff lounge determined to meet the man, but a snack was required first. He couldn’t meet anyone new amicably with an empty stomach. As it was the first day the school had provided a lunch for the teachers. Descending upon the buffet like a starved beast, Gi-hun picked about a little bit of everything and stuffed it down.

Ali, his good friend, and the Technologies teacher greeted him with a wide smile. “Wow. You sure are hungry,” he exclaimed as he wandered over to stand next to Gi-hun 

“Force of habit,” Gi-hun replied. After living in the throes of poverty and going without eating for long perdios of time to scrounge the smallest bit of cash, he found that his appetite had never really been appeased. He would always take free food when the opportunity arose.

“Where were you this morning?” Ali asked, biting into a piece of egg

“Late. As usual,” Gi-hun chuckled, finishing off his noodles.

“Ah. Of course. I should’ve guessed. You didn’t get the chance to meet the new guy, did you? He seems pretty stoic, but I think you’d like him. Well, really, you’d just about like anyone though.”

“What can I say, I can’t help my agreeability,” Gi-hun replied, placing his plate down on the table. When he looked up, he saw Ali’s face visibly light as he exclaimed: “Oh wait! This is him! The new guy! Hey Hwang, meet Seong!”

Gi-hun turned around, just to find himself standing face to face with the man from the train that morning. 

Hwang. He turned around the syllables of the man's name in his mouth like honey. This was the person he simply couldn’t get out of his head, no matter how hard he had tried all morning. The other man’s eyes widened slightly in surprise and he froze on the spot.

Gi-hun slid on an easy smile, despite his nervousness, and placed out his hand to shake.

Chapter Text

The man from the train- Inho , his mind supplied, looked down at Gi-hun’s hand with shock. Inho dragged his eyes back up to his face, a slight tinge of red tinting his face and his mouth slightly agape, but he shook his head quickly and seemed to collect his thoughts once more,  hesitantly deciding to clasp Gi-hun’s cold palm in his own, warm grip. In his other hand, he held a plate piled with rice and soup, though not with as much food as Gi-hun had before on his own. 

“Hello, seonsaengnim,” In-ho greeted, staring right into Gi-hun as if searching him for panic. The very same eyes from this morning that Gi-hun couldn’t pull his gaze away from. Fuck. He just couldn’t help that the man had such pretty eyes. 

“Achhh, don’t call me that! I’m just Gi-hun. Seong, if that’s more comfortable,” he replied, trying to diffuse the awkward tension that had erupted between the two.

Oblivious as ever, Ali looked down at the two and commented, “Wow. New guy, you must have a crazy strong grip.” With a start, Gi-hun glanced down and realised he was still firmly holding the other man’s hand. 

“Oh, I’m so sor-” Gi-hun had begun but never had the chance to finish as someone had jostled In-ho, sending him tumbling forward, right into Gi-hun, and consequently sending his plate of food all over the other man’s white crumpled button-up. In-ho caught himself on Gi-hun’s shoulder, and for a second they made eye contact in a way far too similar to the way they had that morning on the train, in that same way that made Gi-hun lose all sense of rhythm. This time, In-ho seemed to catch himself - he let go of Gi-hun’s prone shoulder quickly and brushed himself down before bringing his hand hesitantly to the other man’s food-soaked chest but dropping his arm before he could make contact. Gi-hun wished, strangely, that In-ho didn’t think better of it. He wished he could feel the mans warm touch once more. The group stood in silence for a moment- or maybe an eternity. Gi-hun couldn’t tell. Something about this man just made him lose all his bearings and sense of social etiquette. 

“Gi-hun! God, you have the worst luck!”  Ali’s voice once again cut between the two, breaking the moment. “And hey, who the hell ran into you, In-ho? So rude,” he exclaimed, looking over his shoulder with a dirty look - or at least Ali’s idea of a dirty look. It was more like a mildly irritating puppy face, but it made Gi-hun feel marginally better. Ali looked back at the sodden man and gasped in shock:  “What are you gonna wear now Gi-hun?!” Gi-hun remembered then - oh, his shirt - and looked down at the stained fabric. He watched in irony as a single grain of rice fell to the floor. 

“Gosh. I have a jacket. Maybe I could just cover it up with that?” Gi-hun replied, trying in vain to brush what he could off, but he knew he couldn’t spend the rest of the day wearing up a buttoned-up coat. It was far too hot of an option to be feasible.

“I have a shirt. A spare one, I mean,” In-ho’s cool, deep voice chimed in. It was the longest thing Gi-hun had heard him say yet. 

“Oh, it’s fine, I wouldn’t want to impose-”

“You’re not imposing. I’m offering. It’s the least I could do, Gi-hun,” In-ho interrupted without hesitation, his dark eyes still staring right into Gi-hun. His voice was insistent, which made Gi-hun strangely happy. So often he did things for others, but he very rarely got anything in return. The science teacher’s quiet kindness which he disguised as a sense of obligation made Gi-hun feel unusually seen. Unusually warm inside. 

“No, no, no, I’m serious, I can get by on my own-”

“Oh for god's sake, Gi-hun,” Ali cut in with an expatriated sigh. “Let the man give you his damned shirt.” The corner of In-ho’s mouth ticked up in a smirk and, inexplicably, Gi-hun began to feel the slight warmth of a blush. 

“Alright, In-ho. I’ll have your shirt,” Gi-hun said in relent. Inho bowed his head and smiled

“Alright. Follow me, Professor.”

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They disappeared around the corner of the staff room from the lunch room and into the locker section, where the teachers would drop their belongings off at the beginning of the day. In-ho was quiet, not saying a word more, which made Gi-hun itchy. His default state was to constantly talk, regardless if the other person wanted to listen, and with Inho added into the mix he seemed just to run his mouth and lose all sense of direction even more than often.

The silence seeped into the walls, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable; uncomfortable for Gi-hun, perhaps, but the silence itself was not from a lack of things to say, but an insurmountable welling of emotion and conversation that did not seem appropriate to spill over. In-ho reached his locker tub, which Gi-hun noted was next to his own, opened it and took out his bag, pulling it over to the table in pursuit of his spare top. 

“So. Why do you have an extra shirt, anyway?” Gi-hun said, breaking the silence that had settled around them. In-ho paused for a moment, then seemed to decide to respond.

“You can never really expect what first days will throw at you. Or maybe, push into you,” In-ho said, seemingly overly concerned with the task of retrieving the extra shirt. Was he seriously that invested in searching his own bag, or was he nervous to meet Gi-hun’s eyes?  “I’m sorry, by the way. For the soup and rice. And… and for this morning as well,” In-ho finished, turning around to give Gi-hun his shirt with his head bowed to avoid direct contact. The other man gently took the crisp shirt from his hands and raised it hesitantly to his chest.

“Ach. It’s okay. You didn’t mean to, anyway. I was just as surprised to see you just then as you were. I had no idea you would be teaching here, but I’m… I’m glad you are,” Gi-hun responded, genuine nerves shaking through his hands but his voice as steady as ever. In-ho looked up for a split second, opening his mouth, just to close it once more and incline his head once more.

“My pleasure, Gi-hun.”

“And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry we had to meet like that,” Gi-hun breathed. A strange feeling of apprehension had pulled at his tongue and closed his mouth. Gi-hun could probably have a successful conversation with a brick wall, but here he was, running his mouth and stumbling over his words because of a physics teacher. “It certainly made today more.. Eventful. This soup even more, I suppose.”

In-ho let out a chuckle and ducked his head; Gi-hun felt absurdly proud for making the man laugh. “Maybe we’re just fated to fall into each other,” In-ho remarked. It was supposed to be a joke, but it didn't seem to quite come out as one. Well, at least judging by the look of surprise on In-ho's face, as if he hadn't expected those words to come out of his mouth, and the sudden warmth that distilled in Gi-hun's stomach.

“Maybe,” Gi-hun responded softly, tentatively.

In-ho’s eyes flicked up to his own once more, before dipping back down to his shirt clutched in Gi-hun’s hands. He seemed to think on his words, biting his lip. Gi-hun wasn’t sure what to say or do, all he knew was that he didn’t want the other man to leave yet.

“Do you need me to take you to the staff toilets to change?” In-ho said in a farce of politeness. Gi-hun let a smile flash on his face, but he was disappointed that Inho wouldn’t… wouldn’t say what he really wanted to say. Gi-hun could tell the was more he wanted to tell the man, but he seemed to stop himself. The weight of unspoken words sunk deep into both of their stomachs like an anchor; that connection he had felt on the train seemed to shutter with silence at the end of In-ho’s sentence. 

“No. I don’t think I do. Thank you again, Inho,” Gi-hun said, waiting for a second more, for anything more. Praying for something more. But the only thing that greeted him was the unending expectation reflected in In-ho’s own eyes. Maybe not today he would spill his guts. But Gi-hun would make this man his friend if it was the last thing he ever did. 

Gi-hun bowed his head once more and turned around to follow the corridor to the staff bathrooms. Though the other teacher remained still and did not follow him, he did not make a move to leave back to lunch either. Gi-hun could almost imagine he felt the burn of a pair of eyes following him as he walked down the expanse of the passage; it made his stomach explode into inexplicable butterflies. 

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Jun-hee opened her locker just to moan in annoyance. 

“What? What happened?” her friend, Kang Dae-ho, asked with his usual puppy-dog-like curiosity. Jun-hee just rolled her eyes and said “My pencil case isn’t in here. I must have left it in Professor Seong’s lecture hall.”

“Jun-hee! I thought you said you were gonna stop forgetting and leaving your stuff behind after every class has finished!” Dae-ho groaned and tipped his head back in the manner of a man who had dealt with the same issue more times than he should have. 

“I’m sorry!! I really have been trying!” She squeaked, slamming her locker close. “At least the bell hasn’t gone yet; I probably still have time to get it before the next class starts,” Jun-hee said, closing her lock before rounding over and looking up at Dae-hol through her long eyelashes. “You know, you should come with me to go fetch it…. It’s what a good friend would do…”

Dae-ho stared at her, unimpressed for a moment, but quickly caved. “Fine,” he moaned. “But if I’m late for Business, Professor Sang-woo will skin me alive.”

“I’ll be quick, I swear!” Jun-hee chimed, already rabbiting her way down the corridor, leaving Ha-neul to sprint in an attempt to catch up. They meandered quickly to the classroom, conscious of the time (especially Dae-ho- he wasn’t kidding, Cho Sang-Woo would skin him alive if he was late, and Junhee knew that all too well). The sound of their chatter filled the mostly abandoned hallways, as most of the other students were still out in the cafeteria and eating. They made it to the classroom in good time and found the door unlocked. 

Jun-hee hesitantly pushed the door open, Dae-ho poking over her shoulder as they looked in, hoping not to run into a teacher or a hormonal couple making out over the desks. Thankfully, it seemed to be empty. The pair pushed the door open fully and Junhee rushed in, spotting her pencil case on one of the corner desks.

“Aha! See!” She sprinted forward, clutching up her case. “I said it was just gonna be her-” Jun-hee started, but quickly cut herself off as she turned around and made direct eye contact with Professor Seong, who was standing at the front of the classroom. He was frozen, seemingly to be in the mid-motion of… sniffing his shirt? He had plucked the front between his fingers and seemed to be trying to smell it, but he quickly dropped his arm once the shock of seeing her had worn off. Fuck . Junhee had forgotten that you couldn’t see the very front of the class from the doorway, the most likely spot for a teacher to be. 

“Mr. Seong! I’m so sorry!” Junhee exclaimed, ducking forward into a deep bow. From the doorway, she could see Dae-ho frozen in shock so she sent him a dirty look accompanied by a jerk of her head, saying fucking bow you idiot!! with her eyes, which he seemed to understand as he quickly also ducked into an overly dramatic bow. Mr. Seong blinked in shock, before furrowing his eyebrows and letting out a boisterous chuckle.

“Ahhhh Jun-hee! That’s okay. I was wondering what that pencil case was doing in here..”

“I’m sorry for rushing into your classroom,” she said, bowing again and praying for her blush to die down. Dae-ho from the door chimed in with “yes sir!! Me too!!”

“That’s alright, you just… shocked me, that’s all,” Professor Seong replied, not referencing the obvious sniffing-shirt elephant in the room, so Junhee decided not to. In a rare instance of self-preservation, Dae-ho didn’t say anything either. 

“Apologies again sir. I’m gonna… I’m gonna go now,” she said, grasping her pencil case and edging awkwardly towards the door. 

“Alright, Jun-hee. See you next class,” he said, quickly before Junhee ran out of the classroom. She tugged Dae-ho out and slid down the hallway, pressing a hand to her red cheeks and smacking Dae-ho for the barrage of giggles falling out of his mouth. 

“Shuddap!! It’s not funny!!” Jun-hee reprimanded, though she couldn’t stop a laugh of her own falling out of her mouth. 

“ Your face!!” Dae-ho burst out, wiping tears from his eyes. “Oh my god, that was the funniest thing ever.”

“Aughhhh shut upppppppp,” Jun-hee groaned. “Though did you see the professor's shirt? It looked different from in class. And it was smaller, too. AND he was sniffing it! I wonder if it was someone else’s…” she exclaimed. The echoes of their whispers and theories bounced off the walls of the corridor as they made their way to the lockers, the sharp sound of the bell cutting through their conversation. 

Somewhere, in a lecture hall, Professor Seong presses his red face into his hands as he tries to forget his encounter with two unruly students, and an annoying magnetic Physics teacher who used a delicious cologne. 

Chapter Text

The morning was bright and early when In-ho walked into the empty Changdong High. He had decided to take the earlier train today, seeing the mess that was his first day. That morning was a cacophony of disaster after disaster; he had woken up late, which was extremely odd, as In-ho was usually a very composed and well-organized man, but he had managed to make it on the bus with a quarter of an hour left. Everything should have gone smoothly after that, but no. He just had to fall into the lap of someone on the train and get distracted by him to the point where the woman beside him had to tell him to apologize. And of course, the person he fell onto just had to be one of the teachers at his new school. Talk about making an impression. In-ho then decided to follow that up by spilling soup all over the said train-man and shoving a shirt in his face before running off in the other direction before the other teacher could engage in conversation with him. Now he was irrationally scared of seeing  Gi-hun again. The thought of the man sent a jolt of anxiety right down In-ho’s stomach. 

It had been a couple of days since that… double entrada. It was almost the end of the week now; the time had flown past, which In-ho found strange. Usually, at a new school, the days would merge together into an impenetrable sludge that he could barely shrug through. He would find coming to work almost akin to a life sentence: boring and ever-lasting. But at Changdong, things seemed to be… different. In-ho had decided as he walked into the empty gates that yes, today was going to be a good day. The sounds of birdsong echoed against the stone of the school, his feet padding the damp ground dully, which was still slightly wet from the night of rainfall. In the silence of the empty school, he let out a small, slight smile. He felt somewhat happy in the first time in what seemed like forever (though he would never admit that).  

In-ho made his way through the deserted halls and traced his way to the staff lounge. The place was nice, but he didn’t love some of his co-workers. That was typical, as In-ho didn’t seem to like most people, but there were a few that he found more than tolerable which was a pleasant surprise. He went through the kitchen way and around the corner, to the teacher’s ‘locker’ area. Walking around the bend, he couldn’t help but remember Gi-hun with his soup-stained shirt, still managing to make the best out of the situation despite the fact he was dressed in his lunch. In-ho was simultaneously in awe and complete jealousy of the other man’s ability for seemingly constant optimism. He hadn’t felt positive about almost anything for years- at least, not at the direct result of something. He was happy about the school, but that was more like a vague feeling rather than something concrete and logical he could understand. With his history of commitment issues and depressive episodes, he could just as easily wipe the board on the place and move on.

In-ho didn’t get attached to things. He refused to; he would say it was some sort of anti-materialistic Buddhist ideal, like those monks who would create intricate pieces of sand art just to destroy it with a couple of kicks, but it was really because he was afraid. Afraid that he would lose it all, just like he had almost seven years ago; In-ho said he didn’t need friends because he didn’t want to be around for something tragic, or the inevitable distance to become between them. He was stable in that he never had anything new or old in his life. He enjoyed the act of purging, because then maybe, he would be able to purge his own weak vulnerability. 

He shook his head; it was too early in the morning to be thinking of things such as that. In-ho tugged his satchel over his shoulder and slid open his tub, just to be met with the sight of something else sitting within it; a white, neatly folded button-up top, with a small post-it note stuck on top.

For In-ho. Thank you for the shirt and for saving me from the endless mockery of my students.

Gi-hun ♡

In-ho’s face tugged into a warm, sincere smile; only because no one else was around to see it, he thought to himself. He picked the shirt up, feeling the material between his fingers. It felt somehow different… softer, as if the touch of Gi-hun’s skin had faded it into reluctant gentleness. As In-ho raised it into the air, a waft of sweet, floral scent encasing it drafted into his nose. It wasn’t his doing, that was sure. Gi-hun must have washed it before giving it back. 

He looked down, trapping his smile in his hands as he wiped his face. In-ho could just imagine Gi-hun putting it in his washing machine, probably by itself because he was too scared of staining it with other clothing’s dye. He could imagine him hanging it up on his clotheslines, bringing it to school and waiting till In-ho left to carefully place it in his tub, a small, mischievous smile gracing his face. It made In-ho feel unusually warm; unusually seen. It had felt like years since someone had done something so sweet for him, expecting nothing in return. Hell, it must have been years, since his wife had died. The thought of this put a slight damper on his mood, as if smiling about a small act of kindness by another man was somehow disgracing his wife’s memory. 

In-ho looked away, and suddenly took notice of the steadily growing background noise of the staff room. People had already started filing in for the day, but he had been too engrossed with the clean shirt to have even noticed. Gi-hun had the effect of making In-ho lose all his bearings. He shook his head and gently tucked the shirt back into the tub, putting his satchel gingerly on top and slipping away his smile, letting his cold demeanor unsheath once more.

Don’t get attached to anyone In-ho found himself repeating over and over in his head as he mentally prepared for the coming day, though this time it sounded more like a desperate plea than a mantra. 

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“Alright,” In-ho said while wiping the board clean. “Next week we are going to start our topic on particles and waves, so in preparation I want you all to read sections 3.1 through 3.3 in your textbooks and finish all the adjourning questions.” He turned around to face the silent classroom, which was filled with slightly disengaged students, all distracted in waiting for the bell to set them out for lunchtime. “If you have any questions, ask now or after class finishes. I won’t stick around for long though.”

The class remained suspended in soundlessness for a second longer before the shrill sound of the bell echoed through the halls, sending the students catapulting out of their chairs and out the door. The teenagers shrugged bags over their shoulders and collected their books quickly up into their arms, loud conversation already springing up as they departed. Unlike them, In-ho did not have to line up quickly to get the tastiest lunch. He made his own every day, so he wasn’t in any particular rush. Last night he had made samgyeopsal-gui as a reward for finishing his first week at Changdong High, and he was greatly looking forward to eating it.

He unplugged his laptop and began to put his papers away, looking up as he heard the sounds of soft rustling at the back of the class. Over the desktops he could see a girl crouching on the floor, attempting to pick up a mass of papers that had tipped over in front of her. 

“Do you need help?” he called out to her. She looked up, her face slightly dusted with a blush but otherwise impassive. 

“No sir. I’m fine,” she said; In-ho recognized her as Ji-Yeong. She was a great student. He had gone through all of the class rankings of previous years in order to find some of the best students and some that might need extra help. She was often in the top 5, if not first place, but he knew that she was friends with another girl, Kang Sae-byeok. From what he could tell from what he’d heard from the other teachers, Sae-byeok was quite a troublemaker. Ji-Yeong, in comparison, seemed much more peaceful. Opposites attract, he supposed. 

He continued to put his things away and took out his lunch, placing it on the desk. By the time he had finished this, she was almost out the door. After a split second of hesitation, he called out to her before she fully left the room.

“Ji-yeong. I know you do well on your physics test. If you want to have some more challenging material, I have it,” In-ho said, pretending to busy himself with brushing down his clothes as he finished. He didn’t enjoy talking one-on-one with students. Ji-yeong looked over his shoulder at him, the apprehension sliding off his face. She didn’t smile, not quite, but she let a whisper of it grace her face.

 “Thank you, seonsaengnim . That would be good,” she said with a small bow. He nodded his head roughly back at her, placing his hands on his hips. 

“Ji-yeong! C’mon, we’re going to be late for lunch!” a voice down the corridor called out to her. She turned towards the noise and let out a quick  “Good-bye, sir,” to In-ho before rushing towards the sound of the other girl. “Coming, Sae-byeok!”

In-ho shook his head with a small smile and sat down at his desk. He didn’t like having lunch at the teacher's lounge with all the other teachers, so after the first day, he had been sitting in his classroom during his break and eating while reviewing lesson plans and the student's work. It was lonely, sure, but it was better than the alternative. In-ho disliked getting to know his coworkers for two reasons: because most of the time they turned out to be insufferable, and the other times, he had ended up quite liking them. In-ho didn’t enjoy the feeling of having friends, or worse, enjoying their presence. It was too much pressure and expectation and it always left him shaky-legged and anxiety-ridden. And the thing was, he didn’t mind all the teachers he had met so far. Ali seemed disgracefully kind and almost puppy-like in naivety, elderly Jang Geum-ja seemed too nice for her own good and, of course, there was Gi-hun. Despite In-ho’s avoidance of the man, he quite liked him. He seemed funny, and kind, in the way that it felt like nothing bad had ever happened to him. In-ho felt inspired by this, but he couldn’t bury the small part of him that was irrational angry, and jealous of Gi-hun and his carefree nature. In-ho didn’t know the man nearly well enough to make a judgment on his character, but really he was afraid that the other man was really as baseless kind as he appeared. He was afraid of interacting with Gi-hun in fear of rejection, as if the other man’s opinion would somehow mold the entirety of In-ho’s person.

In-ho was never really that good at friends, anyway. So he would sit here, in his classroom, and eat in silence as he marked pieces of paper and typed pointlessly into his computer, hoping that it would cull the small, vulnerable part of him that craved human affection. He was spiraling into a whirlpool of hatred when a soft knock at the door caught him out. In-ho looked up, and there, almost like he had conjured the man with his thoughts, there he was. 

Gi-hun. 

“Why are you sitting alone, eating in here? Gi-hun asked, genuine confusion and worry lining his face. 

“Ah. Well. I have work to do,” In-ho replied, somewhat non-commitaly. 

“But we haven’t seen you in the staff room in ages! Since the first day, actually. It’s starting to feel like you’re trying to avoid us,” he joked. In-ho sniffed and looked down at his sheets, pretending to be engrossed in them. Gi-hun’s face softened. “Well, just know, you are welcome with us. We don’t want you sitting alone. I don’t want you sitting alone,” he added quietly. It was almost like he could read In-ho’s mind.

Suddenly, Gi-hun let out a large sniff, smelling the air. 

“Wait, it that samgyeopsal-gui I can smell?” he asked, his face visibly lighting up. 

In-ho looked back up at him. “Yes, I made it myself.”

“Whahhhh!!! You can cook?? In-ho, I’m impressed!!” Gi-hun exclaimed.

“Would you like a bite?” In-ho replied, trying to stifle a small smile he could feel trying to creep up onto his face. 

“Oh, you’re too kind. But I’m fine,” Gi-hun said, the end of the sentence punctuated with the loud grumble of his stomach. “Okay. Maybe I’m not fine,” he said sheepishly, scratching his neck.

“Have you eaten your lunch yet?” In-ho asked, trying to mask his genuine concern with the guise of a matter-of-fact tone.

“No. I… I slept in this morning and didn’t have time to pack any food for today. It’s okay, though! I have a protein bar in my locker!”

“Does that mean you haven’t eaten all day?” In-ho cocked a brow.

“Erm…..” Gi-hun guilty replied. 

In-ho let out a sigh but nodded towards the chair tucked into the side of his desk across from him. “You haven’t eaten all day. Let me give you some of my lunch.”

Gi-hun looked hesitant. “I can’t just keep taking your things….”

In-ho looked up at him. “Gi-hun, please. I never really got out of the habit of making lunch for two; there’s more than enough in here than I can eat. Indulge me.”

“Alright,” Gi-hun finally said, pulling out the chair and plopping down. “Thank god you interested, though, because I’m about to die from hunger,”

In-ho let out a rare, small chuckle. He dished out some of his food onto the lid of the dish and slid it across the table to Gi-hun. He watched as the man smiled gratefully, bowing his head and pressing his lips before hungrily wolfing down the meal. The scene felt strangely domestic… In-ho receiving a clean-washed shirt folded into his locker, and him sharing a warm, homemade meal with Gi-hun. As if this was a normal, natural part of their routine.  As the lunch continued, Gi-hun stayed at they chatted for almost the whole time- In-ho pretended to mark some sheets as he ate his portion (finished long after Gi-hun’s), but he found that their conversation seemed to flow. Gi-hun was such a kind, easy person to talk to, and he didn’t seem to mind In-ho’s cagey attitude. 

It hadn’t even felt like any time had passed at all when the bell went, yet it had and they now had to go their separate ways. In-ho watched as the other man left his classroom (not after a steady stream of thanks for the delicious lunch) and almost seemingly skipped down the hallway. In-ho traced his back till it faded into the wave of students, and yet still watched till his students began filing into the classroom. 

Before he began setting up for the lesson, he looked down at the empty container of samgyeopsal-gui in the middle of the table. It was the first time he had finished a homemade meal of his own with someone else in 7 years.

Chapter Text

Gi-hun smiled as he watched the students filing out of the gates, his mind already stretched out to the evening before him. It was already Wednesday; the first week and a half of school had flown by, especially with his new-found companionship with Mr. Hwang. Every lunchtime, he had found himself sitting in the other teacher’s room to eat. As much as he would have liked to get In-ho out with all the other professors, Gi-hun liked the sense of intimacy of those short lunch periods with him more than he would admit. In-ho was a quiet guy, that was for sure. He didn’t say all too much, but Gi-hun was more than happy to fill the room with the sound of his talking. Sometimes Mr. Hwang would unveil a small little morsel about his life; an anecdote about his laundry, or a reference to his mysterious brother. Gi-hun would never say that he was tracking these comments carefully, but as much as he tried not to, he just couldn’t help it. Something about In-ho was endlessly gravitating, and the man made delicious food. 

Before Gi-hun gathered all his things and disappeared to his apartment, he quickly checked his planner to ensure he remembered everything on his to-do list.

Ah.

Shit.

Gin-hun had a staff meeting tonight that he completely forgot about. And it started…. Fuck. He quickly checked his watch, and yes- it started now. Or more accurately, it had started five minutes ago.

“ Shibal!” He whispered under his breath as he quickly gathered all of his belongings into his bag and rushed out of the classroom in a panic. He slid on the slippery ground of the school flooring and out the door, catapulting right onto the floor and causing all the papers he had hastily stuffed under his arm to fly across the hallway. For a moment, Gi-hun lay lying flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling - and was that a spot of mold growing? - rethinking his life choices, before remembering that he did in fact have a meeting to attend. He rushed up, quickly looking up and down the hallway to check no one had seen his mishap. Thank god, there was no one around. Gi-hun scrambled across the floor, gathering his stuff and shooting right down to the conference room in under a minute. 

Gi-hun took a deep breath in to compose himself, brushed off his shirt, and entered the room with, what he hoped, grace and dignity, though he knew he probably looked more like a lost, kicked puppy wandering in than a professional being fashionably late. As he entered, he felt all eyes flick up to him; with an uncomfortable tug to his collar he greeted them will a small wave and rushed to find a seat. The only one available was next to Ali, which he didn’t mind. Ali was as sweet as they came, and he and Gi-hun were good friends. 

“I see you’ve decided to join us,” a cool voice from the head of the table spoke out: Kang No-eul, one of the important administration officers who oversaw the school. Gi-hun hated her.

Well, hate was a strong word, he supposed. He didn’t hate her- more just her cold, dispassionate manner, especially when it came to the students. She oversaw the productivity and grades at Changdong High, and subsequently played a huge role in the amount of funding the school received. She saw people more as numbers on a chart, or a disappointing outlier on her pristine graphs. Gi-hun did not appreciate that kind of attitude. 

“Sorry, Kang-ssi, I was grading work and lost track of time,” he responded neutrally. 

“Mhm. Make sure it doesn’t happen again,” she remarked, continuing with whatever she was saying before Gi-hun had entered. He wasn’t listening, though - he was distracted with In-ho, who was sitting exactly opposite to him. Gi-hun gave him an enthusiastic wave and a grin, and the other teacher responded with a small, curt nod of his head and that slightly reptilian uptick of the corners of his mouth that he employed often. While Gi-hun couldn’t say the man was completely relaxed and carefree when it was just them and only them at lunchtime, there was a definite increased intensity and nervousness palpable in him when they were around other teachers. At first, Gi-hun would have written it off as a rude, arrogant gesture, but now he had gotten to know the man more, he thought it was more of a defensive mechanism than a behavior born out of malice. 

“ Hey!” Ali whispered, nudging Gi-hun aggressively in the shoulder. “ Not even a hello?! I haven’t seen you in days, man!”

“ Sorry!!” Gi-hun whispered back to the man over his arm. “ I’ve been… going somewhere else for lunch.” Ali rolled his eyes at Gi-hun’s apparent secrecy about the matter and whispered back mock-furiously.

“ I get it; you don’t care about the other teachers anymore. You’ve upgraded out of us,” he pouted sulkily. “ You haven’t been sneaking around with Mr.-stick-up-his-ass instead of us, have you?” Ali added, nodding his head towards In-ho in a joking manner, as if the idea was preposterous and not worth entertaining. 

Unfortunately, Gi-hun had never been a very good liar. He shifted uncomfortably and broke eye contact to stare awkwardly at the roof. Ali gaped and batted him on the shoulder as aggressively as he could without drawing too much attention to the pair.

“ Oh my gosh, so you have ditched us for someone else!!” Ali exclaimed, before furrowing his brows in confusion. “ Professor Hwang out of anyone, though? A physics teacher? I thought you hated everyone from the science block with a distinct passion. I can remember many of your lunchtime rants…” the man trailed off into thought, seemingly reminiscing on Gi-hun’s very heated discussion of the science teachers. 

“ Okay, yes, I do hate most of the science professors. But, well, the thing is… Mr. Hwang is… different. He is nice, despite the impression he gives you. We get along quite well, and he seems to be isolating himself, and I just couldn’t help it…” Gi-hun whispered back.

Ali stared at him with evident confusion for a couple of beats more before replying with an indignant “ Do you know him from somewhere? I swear,  when I introduced you two, it looked like you recognized him from somewhere. And the man literally almost gasped when he saw you for the first time, which is the only proof I have that he feels emotions. You know, I ran him in the halls the other day and said hello, and he gave me such a nasty look I think a little part of me shriveled up and died.”

“No, we don’t know each other from anywhere… well, I hadn’t formally met him before…”

Ali looked at Gi-hun, puzzled for a moment, his eyebrows scrunched in the middle of his forehead as if he was trying to work out a difficult math equation. The look made Gi-hun feel a bit hot and sweaty around his collar, as if guilty even though he wasn’t even remotely sure about what Ali was thinking. Suddenly, the other man let out a gasp and said:

“ Ohmygod. You have a thing for him, don’t you? Oh, you so do… I could recognize that face anywhere. Like a love-sick teenager, Seong Gi-hun!” 

Ali was one of the very few people in Gi-hun’s life who knew his real sexuality. Well, Gi-hun couldn’t definitively say that he was straight or gay, or any one of those confusing mess of labels, but he knew he didn’t fall on the scale of conventional heterosexuality. He liked men just as much as he liked women, if not more, but he didn’t let many people outside of his one-night-stands he picked up from outside of gay bars or his closest friends know. 

There had always been an itch under his skin when he thought of his definite non-straightness; a little voice at the back of his head whispering “You’re not normal, and you never will be”. Sometimes he wondered if it was the compulsive need to fit into the accepted societal standards that pushed him into marrying his ex-wife (and the subsequent reason for their divorce). That’s why he had never had a lasting relationship with a man outside of the odd hook-up, which he did less and less as he got older. Was shame and embarrassment that stopped him, despite how much he craved it?

Gi-hun had told Ali (or, more accurately, Ali had guessed and Gi-hun caved in) because Ali understood what it was like to be an outsider. As an immigrant from Pakistan, Gi-hun had witnessed the barrage of discrimination and prejudice that Ali faced almost daily from strangers to students and co-workers alike. The tentative knowledge that both men were deemed not quite right by Korean society is not what caused their friendship, but it had brought them closer together.  

“Shuddap !!” Gi-hun whispered maybe a little louder than he should have in response to Ali’s remark about In-ho, a his face deeping in a flush, before realizing that in a moment of incredibly bad luck, the conference room had gone completely silent. As if on instinct, Gi-hun glanced toward In-ho, who simply raised his eyebrows, unimpressed, which only made Gi-hun blush more. No. What Ali was saying about his feelings for In-ho was completely and utterly untrue. The only thing he felt for Mr. Hwang was comradeship. Right?

Right??

“Do you have something to say, Mr. Seong?” No-eul asked from the front of the room, her eyebrows drawn together condescendingly. 

“No,  Kang-ssi. I was just having a… work-related conversation with Ali,” Gi-hun replied with an excuse that sounded weak as hell, even to him.

“And I assume that wasn’t a show of interest with the meeting point I just explained? A volunteer to fill the position? It would be considerate of you, seeing that you just distracted the entire staff,” she said coldly. 

“Umh, sure. I mean, what? Sorry, what was the point again?” Gi-hun panicked, but he could tell it was too late. She already had that predatory glint in her eye of a person who had successfully lured someone into a trap.

“Thank you for the volunteer! I’ll put you down now. Oh, and it was for the new facilitator of the school debate club,” she smirked imperceptibly, her hands whirring across her keyboard and she assumedly added his name to the document. 

“Um, I really don’t think that’s a good idea with all respect- I don’t know the first thing about debate, enough facilitating an entire clu-” Gi-hun began, but was quickly cut off.

“I’ll do it as well,” In-ho said from across the table. Gi-hun gaped at him and attempted to give the other man a frantic shake of his head to ward him off, but In-ho refused to meet his eyes, staring right at No-eul with an almost death-like glare. “It would be good to give multiple perspectives to the students while training them, and as a new teacher I’d like to get more involved in the community.” Kang No-eul nodded curtly, writing his name down. 

“Thank you for volunteering with Mr. Seong here. He’ll need the help,” she said impassively. With the last words, In-ho sent Gi-hun a small smirk. Gi-hun scowled back.

“Well, wait a minute here, how much extra time will we be expected to contribute, and is extra pay on the tabl-” Gi-hun began again, just to be cut off once more.

“We’ve spent enough time on this subject, thanks to your disruptions, Mr. Seong. I recommend you allow us like to move onto the next topic now,” No-eul sharply remarked, which was office talk for “ you better shut the fuck up before I fire you”, which Gi-hun was well aware that it was within her jurisdiction. 

Gi-hun sighed and slumped into his chair as she began talking with whatever next bullshit point, making eye contact with In-ho across the table. The other man gave him another small smirk and Gi-hun pursed his lips in response. In-ho had no idea what he was getting himself into.

Gi-hun felt a small nudge on his shoulder and turned around to look at Ali once more, who had a smug look on his face as he raised his eyebrows in In-ho’s direction, mouthing Gi-hun’s got a crushhhhh!! In response, Gi-hun scrunched his nose and gently punched Ali’s shoulder, who responded with mock hurt by cradling his arm. 

He turned back around to face the front, pretending to listen to No-eul when really his thoughts were back on In-ho. Gi-hun didn’t like In-ho like that. The idea almost made Gi-hun want to scoff. They were just friends. And maybe, Gi-hun sometimes liked to fuck men in the dark where there was no shame and no feelings but lust, but that didn’t he ever wanted or needed a romantic relationship with another man; certainly not with a co-worker, for God’s sake. Gi-hun tried to ignore the hollow feeling in his chest at the thought. 

────────

Gi-hun exhaled loudly as he stepped out of the school building and into the outside courtyard area. By the time the meeting was over, he was bored out of his skull and itching to collapse onto his mattress in a deep sleep. Unfortunately, he had much homework to mark once he got home, and a couple of lessons to plan. Gi-hun scuffed his toes against the concrete and sniffed his nose, thinking about how much work had piled up already, and now the added pressure as the head teacher of the debate team. God. 

He looked up suddenly and spotted someone else leaving, another teacher. Gi-hun squinted his eyes… did he know that silhouette? Dark slacks, grey, large overcoat, one hand in a pocket and the other holding his bag over his shoulder… 

“Mr. Hwang! Wait up!” Gi-hun called as recognized the other man, springing across the courtyard. In-ho stopped and looked over his shoulder, his hand clasping the strap of his satchel. “Wait… for me!” Gi-hun yelled once more (somewhat unnecessarily) and skidded to a stop 

“Hello, Mr. Seong,” In-ho greeted amicably as Gi-hun bent over and wheezed till he caught his breath once more.

“Thanks, Mr. Hwang,” Gi-hun responded, grabbing the man’s shoulder to hoist himself up and meet his eye. He felt him stiffen under Gi-hun’s touch, but he didn’t make a move to shrug him off, so Gi-hun took it as a sign to keep his palm there. “Wow, I’m really out of shape,” he said, keeping his hand on In-ho’s shoulder for maybe a few moments longer than necessary. 

“Yes, you are,” In-ho responded. Gi-hun huffed out a laugh and lifted his hand off the man’s shoulder.

“Well, thanks a lot. I blame you; your cooking has fattened me up.”

“Hmm. I don’t recall forcing you into enthusiastically shoveling it into your mouth…”

Gin-hun threw his head back in a huff of laughter, reveling in the feeling of the other man’s eyes tracing his movement. Suddenly, he remembered the meeting before and grew more serious. “Wait. Why did you volunteer for the debate club with me?”

In-ho stiffened and the good nature from a couple of seconds ago dissipated. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you would have liked the help. I can draw out though, if you want me to.”

“No, no!” Gi-hun interjected, seeing the man’s shoulders imperceptibly untense. “Just, it sounds like a pretty crappy job. I don’t want you going out of pity and hating it. Well, I don’t think it will be crappy, per se, but it’s a lot of time, though I suppose it will be good, as an Ethics teacher to get some more one-on-one time with students interested in this sort of stuff-” he rambled till In-ho interrupted (thank God, because Gi-hun doubted he would even be able to stop himself without the other man’s interjection). 

“Gi-hun. It will be good. As long as you’re the facilitator, I’m sure the club will do amazing,” Gi-hun looked away, hoping his flushed face was less noticeable in the dying rays of the sunset. “I joined because I know you’d be a good teacher. And, well, with you, Mr. Seong, being an Ethics teacher, and me being a physics professor, we will be a good team.”

After a moment of thought, almost in surprise at the sincerity of In-ho’s words, Gi-hun replied. “Thank you, Mr. Hwang,”

“You’re welcome, Gi-hun,” In-ho responded, looking Gi-hun dead in the eye. Normally, this kind of thing would make him feel uncomfortable, but something about this man made him not want to look away, just like that morning on the train. With the sunset sending warm, orange beams illuminating his face and making his eyes sparkle, The memory of that morning of their first meeting, coupled with the tension of the moment sent butterflies spiraling up Gi-hun’s throat.

No.

He couldn’t do this. 

He couldn’t do this. 

Gi-hun suddenly cleared his throat and looked away, clapping a hand on In-ho’s shoulder and effectively destroying any sort of moment they had just shared.

“At any rate, I know you’ll be a good teacher to the kids. And, hey, I’m pretty sure the team got to nationals or something a couple of years ago, and the teachers and the students got an all-inclusive trip to some fancy resort for the competition. That would be sweet,” Gi-hun said, trying to ignore the feeling of disappointment that had suddenly erupted in his stomach. 

“Mm,” In-ho responded, looking lost in thought. Gi-hun wanted to say something. He should say something. But he simply couldn’t. For a second longer - or maybe an eternity, Gi-hun couldn’t tell with the way Mr. Hwang looked at him paired with the thoughts racing around his skull. 

 “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Seong.”

The other man turned on his heel and walked down the street. During their conversation, the pair had already made it all the way out of the school and onto the street without Gi-hun even realising. He watched, frozen in the middle street as In-ho made his way down the path and tucked away into an alleyway or side road. Even as he disappeared, Gi-hun still couldn’t make himself look away. 

The moment In-ho was out of earshot, Gi-hun smacked himself in the face: “ stupid, stupid brain.” In-ho was just a teacher, a coworker who wanted to be friends- he clearly was ridden with anxiety and trust problems, and here Gi-hun was. Constantly trying to make every moment weird and ridden with tension that- surely he couldn’t be imagining? Was it really all just in his head? Gi-hun stood silently on the street for god knows how long, mouth agape and staring till the sun was almost set all the way down the sky. As a car loudly passed down the street, he was snapped out of his trance. With a groan, he buried his face in his hands.

Oh, God. He was so, so fucked.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Sae-Byeok,” Ji-yeong called out to her friend. She slipped her juice box, furrowing her brow as she looked at the notice board outside the student center. When she didn’t answer, Ji-yeong rolled her eyes and turned around, already beginning an expasprated “ Sae-Byeokkkkkk” . However, when she spun around, she came face to face, not with her friend, but with an over-eager-looking boy whose hair was bundled up in a bun at the top of his head. 

“Um,” she said. “You’re not Sae-Byeok.”

For a second, the two looked at each other in silence, Ji-yeong with her eyes raised condescendingly and the boy staring at her with a mix of surprise and awe. Punctuating the awkwardness, she took a loud, obnoxious sip of her juice box

“Sorry for him,” a voice next to the mystery boy piped up. Ji-yeong hadn’t even noticed the tiny girl standing by his side; she was quite short with long black hair, the underpart bleached a blonde colour. “He’s not very smart. We were just trying to look at the message board, but Dae-ho cannot do anything normally,” she added, giving the boy- Dae-ho - a nasty side eye, which he returned by throwing his hands up and a look as to say ‘what am I supposed to do about it?’ 

Ji-yeong snorted and lowered her juice box. “That’s fine, I guess. I was trying to talk to my friend, but… I’m not quite sure where she went.”

“Oh, Sae-byeok? The girl with the short black hair and the bangs?” the girl said. Ji-yeong nodded in ascent.

“Sae-byeok? Oh, her? Is it true she really got in a fist-fight with Professor Cho Sang-woo behind the dumpste-” Dae-ho began, just to be cut off by the girl, who slapped her hand across his mouth to silence him. Ji-yeong raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Dae-ho at least had the sense to look apologetic, as if his brain had finally caught up with his mouth. The pair of them didn’t have the… best reputation, to say the least, so she couldn’t blame Dae-ho for running his mouth like that. While Ji-yeong got good grades and was genuinely liked well enough by the student population, she tended to get into arguments with the teachers, especially about her nose piercing. Sae-byeok was a whole other can of worms. The girl was constantly pulling pranks and fighting the teachers, and barely ever seemed to get out of detention. Plus, a couple of years ago, it had come out that she and her family were defectors from North Korea, which had led to endless mockery and rumors about the girl. All apparent “strangeness” of Sae-Byeok was now explained by her peers as a result of her being a communist spy for Kim Jong Un. Ji-yeong could bond with her over being the strange girl no-one wanted to play with, so the two naturally became best of friends. Now, they were infamous enough to be well known and liked (at least, by the students).

“Sorry. Again,” the girl next to him said, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. “Anyway, I think I saw her talking to Choi Su-bong around the corner, or whatever that stupid he insists to be called-”

“Thanos. I think,” Dae-ho said, slipping the girl’s hand of his mouth.

“Thanos? Oh, shit,” Ji-Yeong said. To say that Sae-Byeok and Thanos didn’t get along would be an understatement; they fucking hated eachother’s guts. After the worm incident during a school excursion in middle school, there had been nothing but bad blood between the two. Why in the world would they be talking to each other? It could mean nothing but trouble, though that was to be expected. Trouble was Sae-Byeok’s specialty. 

As if she’d somehow manifested a fight, Ji-Yeong heard the sudden and unmistakable sound of an enraged Su-bong around the corner, screeching “YOU STUPID COMMIE BITCH! YOU BETTER RUN!!”, followed by some disjointed English that, knowing Thanos, was probably some absurd threat. Ji-Yeong, Dae-ho, and the girl all whipped around to watch the corner just in time to see Sae-Byeok evilly cackling as she rounded around the corner, Thanos close on her heels as he stared her down murdlously. 

“Ji-Yeong!” Sae-Byeok crowed, bounding towards them. Thanos suddenly fixed his glare on the accidental trio. 

“YOU ALL BETTER GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!” he yelled, slightly too dramatically in Ji-Yeong’s opinion. However, from her many years of experience causing trouble, she could tell when she was over her head. Thanos was manic enough to pick a fight with all three of them, and with all the cronies that followed him around and would defend him to the death, he had a pretty good chance. At that moment, she saw Su-bong’s homortic friend round the corner, his face split open in a gleeful grin. Ji-Yeong dropped her juice box and gave a quick word of advice before bolting.

“Guys. We should run. Like, now.”

The short girl gave her a doe-eyed look of panic, but they both got the message and began sprinting away from the message board and down into the labyrinth of corridors. The fact they had frantised with Sae-Byeok was enough for Thanos to put a target on their back. The group slid down the hallway, trying to gain an advantage over Thanos and Nam-Gyu as Sae-Byeok caught up to them, still laughing manically. 

“What the fuck did you do??” Ji-Yeong yelled, trying to keep her footing on the ground. If she knew she was going to be chased down the hallway by a group of bullies like something out of a crappy 1950’s American film, she woud have worn different shoes. 

“Well,” Sae-Byeok began, subsiding into giggles. “I was just walking down the hallway and the fucking dude said something stupid to me. So I tripped into him-”

“Did you ‘ trip’ into him or shove him into the floor as you pick-pocketed him?” Ji-Yeong said, rolling her eyes. Sae-Byeok was a one-trick pony; she was very predictable if you knew her long enough. Her specialties included taking things from people's pockets and putting other things back in them. Very impressive. 

“Shut up and listen to my story. Anyway, he had his phone unlocked, on some stupid song recording. So I start playing it and, god, it's definitely not good. And it was in front of his crush, too, at locker 196. Dude, it was literally like nails on a chalkboar-”

“Okay, okay! I’ve heard enough,” Ji-yeong sighed, exasperated.

“Guys. We can’t keep running like this for long. I know I sure as hell can’t,” the short girl said between huge pants. She was right. Ji-yeong barely jogged around the gym during P.E., so this was testing her. She was pretty sure she was surviving on pure adrenaline, despite the huge stitch in her ribs, and by the fact that Thanos and his friend were quickly gaining ground on them, and their insults and heckling becoming progressively louder and closer, she could guess they could outrun them any day. 

‘Yes. I second that,” Dae-ho chimed in.

“Okay. Well, we’ll have to distract them somehow,” Sae-Byeok said, throwing a look over her shoulder before whipping her head back to the front, white faced. “They are very close. Like, very close.”

“Unless there’s like, a huge hole around here that we can lure them into...” the girl suggested glumly.

For a moment of almost defeat, the group ran silently in thought and fear, the only sound oucating it being their collective panting, the slapping of their feet on the ground, and the sound of Thanos throwing degroties in English at them. 

“Wait!” Ji-yeong suddenly called between exhalations. “Can you guys see that blue bucket thing around that corner? I think that’s the janitor's. If we can get around there quick enough, we can tip it over and roll it towards them. That should hopefully knock them over, or at the very least, distract them.”

“Yes!” Sae-Byeok yelled, “Great idea, Ji-yeong.”

The bucket was around the corner into the next hallway, which was steadily approaching. Ji-yeong began stratsing quickly in her head and created a plan: “Okay, Dae-ho, you stay back a mili-second while we keep running. Just roll it as hard as you possibly can toward them, and hopefully, they’ll fall over. Then we can all keep running and hide in a classroom for the rest of lunch.”

Dae-ho gave her a salute and yelled out, “YES, SIR!!” The group rounded the corner, splitting in half to go around the bucket as Dae-ho twisted his body around. Ji-Yeong looked over her shoulder as she ran, watching Dae-ho throw the bucket with brutal force, knocking Thanos and his crony over like bowling pins.

She let out a loud “YESSS” at the same time as Dae-ho, and Sae-Byeok made a loud whooping noise. Ji-yeong looked around just in time to see a small smirk on the mystery girl’s mouth. The sounds of Thanos and Nam-gyu’s groaning and various profanities followed them up the hallway as they bounded toward freedom. 

For the next minutes - or eternity, Ji-yeong couldn’t cognitively function properly with how hard she was running - they whirled around corners and down corridors, ensuring they had fully lost them. They were far out of the line of sight of the pair by the time Sae-Byeok pointed at a random door up ahead and said, “Should we go in there?”

A chorus of “yes” and “please”’s erupted from the group as they gained ground closer and closer to the door. With the speed of someone on a homerun, Dae-ho flew towards the door and flung it open. They all piled into the classroom in a heap of sweat and panting, landing straight on the floor. 

For a second, the only feeling between the group was an exhale of pure relief, till Dae-ho suddenly tensed up and began a wide-eyed, “Guys-”, just to be interrupted by Ji-yeong yelling “FUCK YES WE DID IT GUYS!!!”, throwing her palms up in a high five to Sae-Byeok, who responded enthuscaily.

“Guys...!!!” Dae-ho said again, just to be ignored. The mystery girl collapsed on the floor with laughter, and Sae-Beyok leaned into Ji-yeong’s shoulder with giggles. 

“GUYS!” Dae-ho shouted, finally grabbing the attention of the group. They all went silent, turning their heads towards him expectantly, Sae-byeok’s hands clutching Ji-yeong’s forearms and the girl in a puddle of sweat on the floor. Slumping again the door, he simply pointed towards the front of the classroom. The group all whipped their heads around.

Oh.

Fuckkkk.

Professor Seong was sitting on the edge of the front of his desk, his legs spread, relaxed and open, with Professor Hwang almost standing within them as he looked at the other teacher from above. At the sight of the group of sweaty students, he took a step back, just as surprised as them. Professor Seong, as always, looked perpetually amused with the situation. 

For a moment, there was only an awkward silence as Sae-byeok continued to wheeze her lungs out.

“Are you guys here for Debate?” Professor Hwang said, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen over the classroom.

“Um…” Dae-ho began, looking wide-eyed at everyone, who stared right back at him with a mixture of fear and surprise. Sae-byeok shook her head with a valiant “no!!” while the girl and Ji-yeong shrugged in indifference, too tired from the chase to think about anything.

“Sure!”

Chapter Text

Gi-hun smiled and waved at the students as they left his hall, wishing them a good lunch. School had been going well- work-wise, not that much different from usual. There was still the late night grading and lesson planning, and telling students off for trying to vape behind the school (usually Thanos, as he insisted on being called, and his friend Nam-gyu), but Gi-hun had been feeling… lighter than usual. He’d always enjoyed coming to school because it meant teaching the topic he loved and meeting the students he adored, but now he looked forward to the trek in the morning and all the bits and pieces of the day he usually hated. It was because he knew, no matter what, In-ho would be waiting in his classroom for him when lunch came around. 

The lunches they shared were undoubtedly one of the best parts of Gi-hun’s day. The thought of the other man’s cooking made his stomach rumble. But it wasn’t just the food, no; In-ho’s company was the kind of friendship Gi-hun could simply not describe. The other man was quiet and appeared to be stand-offish and arrogant, but he was really just shy. 

That’s why, when he walked to In-ho’s classroom that lunch, he was shocked to see the door locked and no evidence of the other teacher even being there. From the window in the door, Gi-hun could not see a satchel or computer, just some papers on the edge of the desk, which he knew were always there. Hmm.

Confused, Gi-hun turned around and looked down the corridor, as if that would somehow explain In-ho’s disappearance. No answer magically appeared, nor did the man himself. Gi-hun waited for a second more, then began dejectedly walking towards the staff room. Today, he would have to have lunch there. Damn, he hadn’t even packed anything apart from a couple of snacks; he was becoming uncomfortably dependent on In-ho. He would just have to see if Ali had any food to share with him. Gi-hun was sure that with enough begging, the man would give him something. Ali was too kind like that. 

Gi-hun walked alone through the echoing halls and tried to swallow his sense of abandonment. Had In-ho just decided to go somewhere else to eat? Or worse- with someone else? Had something happened to him? The thoughts began to swirl around his head with reckless abandon, sending a jolt of panic down his stomach. 

No. He was okay. He was okay. There would be a reasonable explanation for this which would prove his ridiculous reaction to be disproportionate. 

He entered the staff room, which was alive with chatter. Gi-hun slid through it, numb to the conversations going on around him. Godamit, he needed to snap out of it and acting like a depressed teenager. He was a grown man, and he could deal with his lunch buddy not showing up for a day. 

“Gi-hun!” a voice called out. He turned around and met eyes with Ali, who was waving at him enthusiastically across the room, his hand halfway up to his mouth as he held a piece of food in his chopsticks. Next to him sat Sang-woo, Gi-hun’s closest and childhood best friend. For many years, they had been quite distant; when Gi-hun was in the dregs of his gambling problems, with no money and prospects, spending his nights alone as his daughter moved further and further away from him, Sang-woo had been facing bankruptcy and addiction. They had had a blowout argument about one stupid thing or another, which left Sang-woo red-faced and angry and Gi-hun in tears, vowing never to see him again.

 But really, Gi-hun could never keep such a promise. He had tracked Sang-woo down to some crappy hotel one day and had gone to see him after making his first steps to pay back his loan sharks, just to find Sang-woo’s almost lifelles body in his bathtub. 

From then onwards, Sang-woo could not shake off the other man as much as you could shake off trodden gum off your shoes. Whatever resentment they had held between each other had begun to melt the moment Gi-hun had sat in the ambulance with Sang-woo’s almost dead body, crying as he held his hand till his own knuckles were taut and white. They had held each other up as they recovered from their respective debts, and both found a different path in teaching. With a stab of guilt, Gi-hun realized he hadn’t had a proper conversation with Sang-woo for weeks. 

He made his way over to their table, trying to look happy. 

“What’s with the long face?” Ali said immediately as he got there through a mouthful of food. Well. Fuck his efforts, then.

“No reason,” Gi-hun replied glumly, but then, with the growl of his stomach, remembered his mission objective (apart from talking to his good friends, of course) “I am really hungry, though…” he added, giving Ali his best puppy eyes, looking hungrily towards his food. 

“Gi-hun, you’re so predictable,” Ali said, though Gi-hun could see his resolve was weak. With a bit of effort, he could snag some food off the man. He looked at Ali’s lunch again: bibimbap with that nice, spicy seasoning that Ali’s wfe made. Doesn’t look as good as In-ho’s food, through some stupid part of Gi-hun’s hinderbrain said. Shuddap, he thought back.

“Coming to sit with us just to get food? Shameless, Gi-hun. The next thing you’ll be asking for is $10,” Sang-woo added, looking up at Gi-hun through his glasses. Ali snorted. It was well known among Gi-hun’s friends that he was almost always asking for money. It was a force of habit from his tough days, he supposed. Plus, it was always handy to have a bit of extra cash on hand.

“I’m hungryyyyyyy,” Gi-hun whined, pulling a chair out and sitting across from them. He looked up through his eyelashes at Ali and said, “Please, Ali… you’ve always been so good to me…”

With the resigned sigh of a teacher, as if Gi-hun was an overly insistent student trying to go to the bathroom, he relented and portioned some of his food onto the lid of the container and slid it over to Gi-hun, who clapped and smiled with excitement. “Fine. But I’m not going to give you my chopsticks.”

Sang-woo rolled his eyes. “Don’t encourage him,” he said, though Gi-hun could see him trying to fight a smile off his lips as Gi-hun shamelessly dug into his portion of the bibimbap with his hands. 

“So,” Ali started as he swallowed a piece of food. “Why are you sitting with us and not…” he asked suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you have highly expensive eyebrows?” Gi-hun said through a mouth full of food, trying to redirect the conversation to non-In-ho-related waters. 

“Don’t avoid the question, hyung,” Sang-woo remarked as he looked down at his chap chae, immediately calling out Gi-hun’s efforts. 

“What do you mea- have you two been talking about me???” Gi-hun gasped incredulously. Ali looked guilty at the roof as he scratched the back of his neck, while Sang-woo looked him dead in the eye. 

“Yes.”

“Owh! No shame!” Gi-hun cried, grasping his chest in mock pain. Sang-woo raised his eyebrows and titled his head forward, as if to say ‘ so?’. God, he was just as bad as the girls who sat at the back of class and gossiped the whole time; Sang-woo was just more subtle about it. Looking down, Gi-hun sighed. “Well, I’m not sure. He wasn’t in his room when I went today.”

“Wait,” Ali said. “Was he here today? I think I remember him saying something about being sick yesterday before he left.”

“He’s ill?” Gi-hun furrowed his brows and tried to recall if he saw In-ho this morning on his way to school, or in the staff room, or really, at all today. He couldn’t remember seeing the man anywhere. Gi-hun thought back to the days past, as if they held some clue: on Tuesday, they had the first debate club meeting, where the students (and now new members) had run (?) into the classroom. Gi-hun chuckled at the memory. Nothing was out of the ordinary that day, though. Wednesday went by as usual, but now that Gi-hun was thinking about it, he could remember that In-ho had spent much of the day stifling sneezes and blowing his nose. He had seemed out of breath by the simple act of walking down the stairs because Gi-hun, unfortunately, knew for a fact that the man was quite fit. 

“He’s sick?” Gi-hun said, pondering for a moment. “Yes, he’s gotta be. He was coughing up a storm yesterday next to my tub,” he resolved, trying to hide the relief in his voice. Inferencing from the look that Sang-woo and Ali shared, he could tell he didn’t do a very good job at it.

“So… Ali said, cocking a brow. Gi-hun could feel the blush rising on his cheeks.

Stop!” Gi-hun said to the disbelieving looks of his two friends. “Not like that. We’re professionals. Strictly friends. Nothing more.” 

There was skeptical silence.

“Look,” Gi-hun began, looking down at his food. “We really are just friends, okay? I’m not some stupid schoolgirl with a crush. I don’t want you acting out this whole imagined drama between us because we aren’t kids, and he is just my friend. And nothing more. So please, don’t act like anything is going on between us. Because there really, really isn’t.”

When he looked back up, Gi-hun could see that Ali at least had the decency to look guilty. Sang-woo, on the other hand, just vaguely hid his disbelief.

“Sorry, Gi-hun. I didn’t mean to push. I am glad the two of you are friends, though; I think he could use the support,” Ali said as an olive branch. Sang-woo added a non-discriminant “mmhm” in agreement. For a second, Ali looked lost in thought before he added, “Oh! You should go check on him. Y’know, go see if he’s alright. That would be a nice thing to do for any new teacher, to make them feel welcome. I’m pretty sure everyone’s address is in the directory book in the administration office, if you wanted to go visit him..”

“Yeah, right,’ Gi-hun snorted. “That would be weird.” Though, truly, Gi-hun was genuinely considering it. It wasn’t that bad of an idea, actually… “Um, I might go, guys. I’ve got some more work to mark. Thanks for the food, Ali!” He said, jumping up from his chair and waving goodbye half mindedly, his thoughts already putting together haphazard ideas for what he would do for the sick In-ho. He ignored the roll of Sang-woo’s eyes as he ran through the crowd of the staff room Ali and Sang-woo watched him go. Sang-woo let out a fond but very exasperated sigh.

“He so down bad, isn’t he,” Ali stated, not even as a question.

Sang-woo simply pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing his glasses to sit against his forehead. “What he is is an idiot.”

────────

Gi-hun gingerly rapped his knuckles against the sturdy door of the house he was told was In-ho’s. 

He had a free period last, which meant he could go straight home to do something - what that something was, he hadn’t planned it till he had gotten to his house. After rushing home in vigour, Gi-hun stared blankly at his coffee table, realising he had no idea what he could do for In-ho to make his sickness more tolerable. 

After a moment of brainstorming, he remembered the soup his mother used to make him when he was sick- a traditional, spicy, and hot thing that always made him feel warm with the knowledge he was being cared for by someone he loved. After her funeral, Gi-hun had gone through the house and found the family recipe book, which, in the guilt of being a terrible son, he had shoved into a box and gone on with his life. He had done just about the same thing once he had moved into his new apartment. 

If he could remember correctly, he knew exactly where in the house he had put it. In a burst of energy, Gi-hun rushed to his recipe book cabinet that sat in his kitchen. It was quite small on account of the fact he could not cook for shit. However, over his years of adulthood, he had accumulated a couple of books here and there, mainly from charity shops. Sitting cross-legged on the hardwood floor, he began shoveling them out onto the floor and scourging at the back for his family recipes. After a couple of moments of searching, his hand snagged on the corner of a cloth-bound book.

Gi-hun pulled it out and put it on his lap, looking down at it. He carefully opened it, letting the pages rough against his fingertips. Having it there, in his hands, made him suddenly sad- how many times had his mother opened it when he was a child and peered at it with half-closed, almost asleep eyes? Had she looked at it after a long day filled with his dramatics, losing more and more money at the races? The night she died, had she tried to reach for it, knowing that Gi-hun would not return from the gambling dens to make her anything?

The thoughts were like shards of glass blown into his lungs, sliding with pain down the softness of his throat. He would never be able to forgive himself for what he had done to his mother. No matter how many times peoples would tell him ‘ it’s not your fault’, he knew at his heart, it was; if he had not left to go to the races, if he had not gotten beat up by loansharks for money he had no way of repaying, if he had not spent the nights before sleeping on benches and under bridges in shame of coming home, he would have been there for her the night she died. He might have even be able to stop it.

Blinking the tears out of his eyes, Gi-hun shook his head. No. He would think about that now. He would not spend his night drowning in self-pity. Maybe he couldn’t save his mother now, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do something nice and support someone else. He had spent every day after his mother’s death trying to replicate a piece of the relentless kindness and care she had given him and put it out into the world. Maybe the best he could do right now was make a soup for his friend, but that was a step into bettering himself. 

So Gi-hun, after much trouble, had made the soup, packaged it tightly in a container, put it in a bag, and trekked to In-ho’s house, which he had found out through admin. And now he stood in front of the door, mid-knock, with a deep anxiety in his stomach. 

In-ho’s house was nice; hell, it was nicer than nice. Unlike Gi-hun, who resided in an apartment further into the city, In-ho lived on the outskirts of the suburbs in a proper, adult house . It wasn’t ridiculously big, but it was decently sized and quite nice, if not a bit sterile for Gi-hun’s taste. Perfectly In-ho.

He stopped knocking and waited, slightly awkwardly, for him to let Gi-hun in. No response. He tried again, just for the same thing to happen. Hmm. Gi-hun tentatively tried twisting the doorknob, and surprisingly, it relented. His eyes widened as he gently pulled the door open and peeked his head in. The corridor he looked into was dark, the only light sliding through a window in one of the walls and the gap of the door Gi-hun had opened. 

“Hello? In-ho? It’s Gi-hun here- from, um, work!” he called into the house before mentally berating himself; ‘ from, um, work!’, Was he an idiot??

Again, there was silence. Gi-hun was about to call out once more before his open mouth was shut closed by the distant sound of coughing from somewhere deeper into the house.

“ Gi-hun?” the voice called after their fit of coughing had relented. “ I’m sorry, I can’t *cough* get up right now. Come *cough* in.” 

Gi-hun was pretty sure the voice belonged to In-ho, but he couldn’t help feeling like the silly girl from a horror movie walking into a desperately obvious trap. He shook his head incredulously to get rid of such ridiculous thoughts and pushed the door open, entering the house.

He gently stepped into the interior, closing the door softly behind him. The corridor was long and quite bare. There were some shelves with many books and a couple of planets adorning them, and a lamp or two scattered across the hall. There was a soft grey rug under Gi-hun’s feet. With a start, he remembered he was still wearing his shoes and rushed back to the mouth of the hallway, planting his ass on the ground and taking them off. With a sigh, he continued his trek down

The place was nice, but it didn’t seem cozy. There were no pictures on the walls, only a couple of art prints and a mirror. There were no knickknacks, which was a harsh comparison to Gi-hun’s own house, which was filled with trinkets he had collected over the years. This place seemed like simply an area for In-ho to come back to after work, to cook and eat and sleep, and keep his books. It didn’t feel like a home. It felt like a coffin, pressed to the brim with sadness and a life that just wasn’t quite. 

The hallway tapered off and entered into the kitchen, which was quite industrial and fancy-looking. Gi-hun wondered how In-ho could afford such a nice place. Gi-hun scanned the room, looking at the dining table that sat in the middle of it. It was surprisingly small; the room made it feel like it should be a huge, imposing thing, but In-ho had just put a small, wooden table with a singular chair behind it. He gazed at it for a moment more, wondering why just one chair when a weak noise distracted him.

“ Gi-hun?” someone called from not too far away. It was In-ho.

Gi-hun looked around to see the living room across from the table. The place was open-plan and opposite the kitchen. The grey couch where the noise came from was facing forward, toward the window which faced into In-ho’s backyard. Gi-hun couldn’t see if anyone was sitting on it at this angle, but as he got closer, he could see a tuft of In-ho’s dark chestnut hair peek over the top.

“In-ho? Are you alright?” Gi-hun replied, voice coloured with worry. He rounded the corner of the couch and faced In-ho.

The other man coughed from his place slumped into the couch. He looked… vulnerable. It sounded like a strange way to say it, but there was really no other explanation of how he looked at the moment. Even from the first moment, when Gi-hun had met him on that train and In-ho had gone catapulting into his lap, he didn’t look vulnerable. Just surprised and embarrassed. At work, he was always well put together and cold, unapprochable. When it was just the two of them, eating lunch in his empty lecture room, In-ho was as soft as he ever was (if you could even call it being soft), but he was never vulnerable . He always seemed to have his guard up, even without provocation. 

Now, he sat under a thin blanket, his eyes and nose red with irritation. There was a box of tissues by his hand and a bin on the floor filled with the used ones. Under, he was wearing pajamas - miles nicer than anything Gi-hun owned, fancy and silk-looking things that were matching, but it was considerably less dressy than his normal clothes. Gi-hun glanced at the coffee table in front of him and saw an assortment of objects. There was a near-empty container of illness medication, a small, medical-looking bottle of some liquid, and a book overturned: Good Arguments, by Bo Seo.

“Is that a book about debate?” Gi-hun squinted at it before looking back at the sickly man. In-ho, if it was even possible with how flushed he already was, blushed slightly.

“I like to be prepared,” he said softly, with a crackly voice. 

“Oh! I’m sorry. Talking about debate when you’re dead sick. I’m sorry,” Gi-hun exclaimed in embarrassment, fidgeting with the cotton bag in his hands that held the soup he had made. He was suddenly nervous about presenting it to the other man; he was practically a master chef, and Gi-hun… well, Gi-hun was just Gi-hun. He didn’t have much to offer but endless optimism, shitty cooking and nervous breakdowns. “I… hhhrum… made you some soup,” he said, speaking the last part quickly and letting his words rush together.

His outstretched hand remained still in the air as he waited for In-ho to accept the gift, expect… he didn’t.

The other man looked up at Gi-hun with shiny, wide eyes and his mouth slightly agape, as if no one had ever given him anything before. 

“Gi-hun,” he said, softly now, looking right into his eyes with surprise and. And something else that Gi-hun couldn’t decipher. Didn’t want to decipher. 

Gi-hun shook his head, stepped around the table, and sat down next to the other man, trying to escape his unending eyes. He placed the bag on his lap and carefully extracted the container holding the sundubu-jjigae. Gi-hun took it out and opened it, turning back around at In-ho, and placed the soup on the table in front of them. The spicy, warm smell erupted from the open container, which made Gi-hun's stomach rumble. With a start, he realized he hadn’t even eaten since the meager meal Ali had donated him. He had gotten so caught up in cooking that he had forgotten to eat.

“I made you soup. My mother used to make it for me when I was sick. It’s spicy but not too much. It always made my belly feel nice and warm,” Gi-hun said into the silence nervously.

He looked back at In-ho, who still stared at him with those star-struck eyes. The man glanced at Gi-hun for a moment more, then dropped his eyes down to Gi-hun’s chest.

“Thank you, Gi-hun- ssi,” In-ho said with his faltering, nasaly voice. “I… I don’t know how to thank you.” He seemed at a loss for words. 

“Don’t be silly. It’s just soup. You can thank me by eating it- you look exhausted. Did you tell anyone that you were sick? I would have come to look after you any day.”

“I…” In-ho began, just to be racked by coughs. “I’m not sure. It came on so fast.” he looked down at Gi-hun, then glanced back up at him through his eyelashes as if in apology. “I told the school…”

Gi-hun tutted and, if on pure, basic instinct, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he reached his hand up to the other man’s face to cup his cheek. 

“You’re so hot!” he exclaimed, keeping his hand there as he felt the smooth warmth of the other man against his palm. There was silence- for a moment, maybe more. Gi-hun couldn’t tell from his place lost inside In-ho’s dark eyes. 

“I run warm,” In-ho whispered, breaking the silence.. When had we gotten so quiet? With a start, Gi-hun realized he had let his hand sit on the other man’s face for far longer than socially acceptable. His hand had begun unconsciously grazing In-ho’s sharp jaw. 

The strangest thing of it all was that In-ho didn’t seem to want to pull away - in fact, he was leaning closer and closer into Gi-hun’s touch, as if it held the cure to every illness in the world. He looked quite expectant, as if he was holding a breath that he waiting for Gi-hun to allow him to exhale. In-ho’s eyes were wide and dark, like chocolate. Gi-hun almost felt as if he could dip his fingers in and taste the other man-

Stop. Stop.

In-ho was weak and vulnerable, and now thinking to all the assorted medicines sitting on his table, probably out-of-it and unable to adhere to normal social cues. And Gi-hun was taking advantage of this state just so he could touch the man. Pathetic. 

Gi-hun leaped away, letting the cotton bag that had held the container fall to the ground. 

“I’m sorry. I got lost in my mind. Let me heat the soup up for you; you must be quite hungry if you could barely get yourself up from this spot on the couch. I can’t believe no-one came to check on you, how rude… let me warm it up for you. You’ll feel better, I swear…” Gi-hun rambled as he grabbed the soup, placing the lid back on. He traversed into the kitchen in somewhat of a panic, looking back at the other man on the couch for only a second. He looked so small and exposed, sitting in the very corner of the couch as if he was a small child; he looked dejected and disappointed, yet star-struck. Gi-hun quickly focused back on his task of trying to find a microwave, anything to get his mind off the other man.

In his feverish searching around the kitchen, he missed how In-ho had raised his hand up to his cheek, tracing his fingers gently over where Gi-hun had had his palm only moments beforehand, as if trying to search for a careful touch he had left behind. Gi-hun missed how he dragged his hands down his face, letting his pinky pull down his lip while he clutched the side of the face Gi-hun had cupped, grazing his jaw as if to call back the ghosts of his brush. 

He missed so much. And In-ho, guiltily, and only in his sickness-addled mind, felt disappointed that Gi-hun hadn’t seen him. Hadn’t seen this quick and faltering moment of vulnerability, because maybe then the other man would have understood him. But it was too late, like it always was. 

His moment of vapidness faded quickly with the comforting sounds of Gi-hun’s gentle voice rambling in the background. At the other man’s instance, he can vaguely remember swallowing a couple of mouthfuls of the delicious, warm soup that settled heartily into his stomach before being dragged back down into a deep, sickness-induced sleep. Before In-ho drifted off, he saw the blurry figure of Gi-hun’s concerned face trying to speak to him, and he knew that regardless of how ill he was, he was in good hands. He felt, for what seemed like the first time in a long, long time, completely and utterly safe.

He was going to be okay.

Chapter Text

“Alright!” Gi-hun called from in front of the class. The debate team had finally gathered - properly, this time - in In-ho’s classroom. They had brought together some of the tables and taken them up to the front of the room into a semi-circle, and now their riffraff group had culminated into a discussion. A very passionate discussion, evidently from the way they all ignored him to continue him and continue his discourse. Gi-hun tried once more, weakly - “Alright! Hello!”, to no success. He looked over his shoulder at In-ho, who stood directly in front of the classroom with his arms crossed across his chest. Gi-hun creased his eyebrows and shrugged, helplessly. In-ho pressed his lips into a tight line

“EVERYBODY!” In-ho bellowed, sending the club into stock silence. He shook his head and said: “Mr. Seong is trying to speak to you all. Please give him his due respect.” His voice was composed and calm, as if he hadn’t been berating them seconds beforehand. The students stared at him with a mixture of surprised and thinly veiled fear; Gi-hun swallowed a chuckle.

“Thank you for that, Mr Hwang. Now. Welcome to our first official debate club meeting!” Gi-hun smiled, trying to distill the tense environment. The students relaxed slightly at his cheerful nature. “Now, does anyone by any chance have any prior experience in debate?”

The students looked at each other, then away. Evidently not.

“That’s alright, guys. Mr. Hwang and I haven’t done much debate before either, so this will be a chance to learn for all of us. I’m excited to see how this turns out,” Gi-hun beamed at the group of kids. “Now, we need to decide what exactly we want to do with this club. As you all probably know, Changdong High hasn’t had a debate team in… well, for a very long time. So what do we want from this reestablishment?”

The kids looked at each other once more, searching for someone who had something to say. The girl with the tips of her dyed blonde hair, Jun-hee, leaned over the table and whispered something into Dae-ho’s ear. Gi-hun turned around once more to look at the impassive In-ho, who simply raised his eyebrows. Gi-hun sighed and turned back around to see Sae-byok with her hand up and a slightly mischievous look on her face- though, Gi-hun had met her enough times to know that was just her resting face. 

‘Yes, Sae-byok?”

“If we enter into competitions and win, will there be any prizes?”

At her words the other students showed their first sign of excitement in the whole session, diverting their attention from Gi-hun to whisper amongst themselves. Gi-hun sighed for what felt like the fiftieth time since the meeting had started- despite the fact he had just adjourned it- and tried to formulate a response that wasn’t so material-driven.

“Well, I’m sure there are prizes, but we must remember that winning isn’t the most important part of competing. It’s always about the journey, not the destination-” His lecture was cut off by the synchronized groaning of the students. 

“Don’t be such a killjoy, Mr. Seong,” Ji-yeong rolled her eyes.

“Yeah!”Dae-ho unhelpfully added. Gi-hun opened his mouth once more to defend his stance but never got the chance to start his sentence. 

“Well. Mr. Seong is right, of course,” In-ho said from behind him. The students let out a grumble that threatened to turn into the discourse from before, but In-ho didn’t give them the chance. “But, there is a prize for winning, as well as one for getting into the finals.” 

The students looked expectantly at him, waiting for him to tell them what the prizes were. In-ho, being the irritating bastard he was, just stared back apathetically at them and raised an eyebrow.

“Which is?” Sae-byok prompted impatiently.

“If you get into the top six teams at the end of the Korean National Debate Tournament means getting a fully funded trip to a ski resort in Pyeongchang to complete the finals. Winning places include scholarships, grants for the school, and cash prizes. However, it is a very competitive competition, which means if you do want to get into the top six, we are going to have to work hard. Very hard.”

The students erupted into conversation with each other. Gi-hun held back the smile that threatened to capture his lips. He turned around and walked towards In-ho, and bent his head slightly as he spoke.

“Of course, you could rally them.”

In-ho looked away, struggling to keep his lips only slightly quirked, and replied “It was nothing, really.” Gi-hun hoped he wasn’t imagining the slight flush on his cheeks. 

“They are so rude, aren’t they?” Gi-hun remarked. 

“Well, I’m not sure that you had the best argument,” In-ho said, looking back up at Gi-hun through his eyelashes. “ ‘It’s about the destination, not the journey,’ I’m not sure how that would ever work o-” 

“Ach!” Gi-hun replied with a gentle hit on In-ho’s shoulder. The other man stifled a chuckle in his hand as he jostled at the play fighting, looking down at his shoes with a smug smile on his face. “You’re the worst.” In-ho opened his mouth as if to respond, but got distracted by something over Gi-hun’s shoulder. With a start, he remembered he was in a classroom surrounded by students.

 Gi-hun quickly turned around and cleared his throat, meeting the expectant eyes of the kids. While Gi-hun had been distracted by… well, while Gi-hun had been distracted, they seemed to agree on something. Sae-byok cupped her hand and whispered something into Ji-yeong’s ear, who had her palm at her mouth to stifle a giggle. With a start, she noticed Gi-hun had turned around and widened her eyes in surprise, guilty shoving Sae-byeok back into attention. 

“We want to compete!” Dae-ho exclaimed. The other kids nodded their heads seriously. 

“Alright,” Gi-hun said. “But, if you’re just doing this to win, you’re never going to get anywhere. So I just want to ask are you prepared to learn how to do debate for the sake of debating, and not just prizes?” he asked, a shade of playfulness coloring his tone but the sentence much more serious than anything else he had said in that meeting so far. The students looked at each other as if searching each other’s faces in an effort to come up with something to respond with. They seemed to think for a moment more, and then unexpectedly, Sae-Boek spoke up.

“Gyosunim,” Sae-byeok met Gi-hun’s gaze. “I mean… isn’t the whole point of debating to win?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s what competitions are for, right?” A few students nodded in agreement, but In-ho cocked his head at her, raising an eyebrow as if gesturing for her to continue. She bit her lip back and her cocky demounr faltered as she hesitated, glancing around at her teammates. 

“But… I guess if we’re only thinking about winning, we’re not really debating—we’re just arguing to be right.” She sighed, crossing her arms. “So maybe you have a point. I don’t know about everyone else, but I think I’d like to actually learn how to do this properly. Not just for the prizes.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, and a few heads nodded. Then Jun-hee, added, “Yeah… I guess if we focus on actually debating well, winning will come naturally anyway.”

Sae-byeok smirked slightly and turned back to Gi-hun. “Alright, fine. Teach us how to actually debate.”

Gi-hun’s face broke into a grin and he smiled at the group of students in front of him.

“I knew you’d all get there in the end,” he said, watching In-ho nod out from the corner of his eye. “Mr. Hwang, why don’t you take us away with the first prompt?”

“Of course, Mr. Seong. Why don’t we have a conversation on something that affects all of you as students: Should schools prioritize STEM subjects over the arts? We have more science-based subjects at Changdong. Would prefer for this to be, or would we like this to change?”

“That’s not even a debate. Science subjects are doubtlessly more useful in real life,” Jun-hee remarked. 

“Excuse me? What’s even the point of life without art?” Ji-yeong said, crossing her arms. “Schools need to spend more time focusing on humanities and arts, otherwise we’ll spend our whole lives mindlessly driving through boring-ass corporate jobs.” 

“I think it’s good to have a mix of both. I know I’d hate it if I had to do mainly STEM or arts subjects. A bit of variety is best,” Dae-ho added. 

Gi-hun smiled “See? This is exactly why debating is so much fun! But instead of just throwing opinions at each other, let’s structure it properly. We’ll split into two sides—pro and con—and each team gets a few minutes to prepare an argument. Then we come together and debate.”

“We’ll go over the basics of argument-building as we go. Sound good?” In-ho said while walking towards the whiteboard, uncapping a pen as he went.

“Okay. And just so you know, Jun-hee, I’m about to destroy your argument,” Ji-yeong smirked mischievously.

“We’ll see about that,” she giggled in response. 

The students quickly split themselves into two separate groups (apart from Dae-ho, who sat confused between the cluster of people, seemingly unable to make up his mind). Gi-hun turned around and unleashed his 250-watt grin on In-ho, who turned back around to the board in an attempt to hide his own small smile. The debate club was officially back in action.

────────

The bell had rung and Gi-hun and In-ho remained in the classroom, alone. They both had a free period and seeing as In-ho occupied the room the whole day anyway they had decided to remain inside and recuperate after the debate meeting.

“They did so well!” Gi-hun gushed, settling himself on top of the table in the front of the classroom.

“Well, we’ll see about that. They still have a lot to learn,” In-ho responded as he wiped down the board, erasing all their brainstorming. Gi-hun watched as the man’s broad shoulders strained against the back of his button-up top. Hm. 

“Are you sure you didn’t do any debating when you were younger? I somehow don’t believe you’ve never done it before, you seem too prepared…” Gi-hun questioned, raising an eyebrow as let his palms slide slightly further down the desk as he leaned into them. 

“Well,” In-ho began, putting down the eraser but not turning around. “I might have dabbled in it during my youth.”

“Ha! I knew it!” Gi-hun exclaimed. “Owning a book about debating, then pulling out an argument structure out of nowhere during a first meeting? You are not a subtle man, Hwang In-ho.” 

In-ho turned around and inclined his head to hide his chuckle. “In my defense, you were never meant to see the debate club. I couldn’t have predicted getting sick, and no way could I have anticipated you making me soup.”

Gi-hun smiled gently at him in response. It had been almost a week now since the In-ho-sickness incident had occurred. Two days after Gi-hun had made him the sundubu-jjigae, In-ho was well enough to teach once more (if you disregarded the slightly-nasaly quality of his voice on account of his blocked nose). Gi-hun still could not shake the image of the man, usually so imposing and impressive bundled up in blankets and sickness, his body crouched with vulnerability and eyes softer than Gi-hun had seen from him before and since. Unlike most of the other teachers, he had never viewed In-ho as an arrogant and apathetic man, but that moment had only strengthened Gi-hun’s weakness for the Physics professor. In-ho had collected himself and had returned to his usual domineering state after his recovery, of course, but Gi-hun was sure something between the pair had changed since that day. Since the day Gi-hun had absently-mindedly cupped the man’s feverish cheek and In-ho had looked at him like he was the most amazing thing in the entire world…

“Gi-hun?” In-ho said, peering up at him. While Gi-hun had been stuck in his head, the other man had crossed the room and sat down at the chair in front of the desk Gi-hun was sitting on. He now sat almost in between Gi-hun’s legs on the rickety office chair and looked up at the man through his eyelashes. 

“Sorry,” Gi-hun blushed. “I was… erhm, thinking.”

“I can tell. Did it hurt?” In-ho repsonsed innocently. It took Gi-hun a moment to realise the man was mocking him. 

“Oh, you bastard!” Gi-hun exclaimed, kicking his foot playfully from his vantage place on top of the desk at him. In-ho rolled his chair back and avoided Gi-hun’s onslaught skillfully, laughing to himself. Gi-hun rolled his eyes but couldn’t contain his small smile. “You know, I was just about to ask you to be my partner for the sports carnival, but now I’m having second thoughts.”

“Oh?” In-ho asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

“Every year Changdong High has a sports carnival; we rent out the local playing field and all that. The teachers don’t participate in the normal competition, of course, but we have a two-legged race that most of the staff do. I usually do it with my friend Ali in engineering, but I thought, I don’t know, you might want to do it with me this year instead,” Gi-hun told him, suddenly shy. 

“Well, I can’t say it’s something I would usually be inclined to do…” In-ho started hesitantly. Gi-hun almost butted in, trying to console his offer with a barrage of ‘it’s okay’s and ‘don’t worry about it’, but In-ho bet him to the quick. “But I’d be more than happy to do it with you, Gi-hun-ssi.”

“Oh,” Gi-hun said, hoping he wasn’t blushing. “Oh. Okay, awesome! I’ll sign us up. It’s in a couple of weeks, so you won’t have to worry about it for a while. And drop the formalities, In-ho. It’s okay, you can call me hyung. We know each other well enough now.”

“Okay, Gi-hun-hyung,” he responded in that quiet way of his. Gi-hun’s name sounded like honey in his mouth. 

“I can’t wait to see the cold and impermissible Mr. Hwang in a lowly two-legged race with me,” Gi-hun smirked, his voice cutting through the tension quickly. It made him uncomfortable. 

“Cold? Impermissible? Is that my image?” In-ho playfully remarked. 

“Of course. You’re a fancy debate man who teaches physics. It’s practically part of your job description.”

“Ha ha ha. So funny, Mr. Seong,” In-ho replied, deadpan. Gi-hun let out a raucous burst of laughter at In-ho’s perfectly apathetic face, before remembering they were supposed to be strategizing about the next debate meeting.

 “So, with you being such a fancy smart debate man, what do you suggest we should do for our next club meeting?”

In-ho slipped back into his normal, serious self and edged his chair back towards Gi-hun.

“I was thinking we work on teaching them the actual structure of a debate. It’s a bit hard to adjust to, so if we do enough practice, we should be able to train them into the groove of it. We should run some excises with debate prompts and run the debates through the method they’ll use during the actual competition.”

“What does that method look like? And when do the debates start?”

“The debate form they use in the Korean National Debate Tournament uses is called ‘spontaneous argumentation’, which basically means the team is told the prompt and assigned their position about an hour before the debate actually begins, and they have to put together their points and rebuttals in that allocated timeframe. It’s quite high pressure, so we should run a couple of test runs with them so we can get them comfortable with the form. The competition itself starts around the 7th of April, but it also depends on what date your first debate is held. That means we have a bit over two weeks of preparation, almost three.”

“Alright,’ Gi-hun exhaled. “We can work with that, right?” 

“Of course we can,” In-ho nodded in affirmation. 

“Alright,” Gi-hun said, hosting himself off the table, not accounting for the man sitting in between his knees. As he stood up, Gi-hun’s thighs enclosed In-ho’s legs, trapping him in his chair. The warmth of the man’s knees pressed to the insides of Gi-hun’s legs sends a cacophony of butterflies in his stomach and a red to flush his cheeks. In-ho raised his eyebrows in surprise, looking up at the man above. 

Gi-hun stared at him in a mixture of surprise and enthralment, before snapping himself out of the trance. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the warmth spreading in his insides. 

“Time to get to work, then,” he said in an attempt to distill the tension. For a heartstopping second, Gi-hun thought the man would not move back from the prison of Gi-hun’s legs; he would just sit there, staring up at him with those infuriatingly unreadable cool, brown eyes. And for a moment, he didn’t. Gi-hun wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved the man finally decided to roll backward, letting Gi-hun out from his place pinned against the edge of the desk. 

“Yes,” In-ho finally responded, perfectly neutral. At this point Gi-hun had lost all concept of time, so he couldn’t tell if it had taken moments or years for him to reply. “Time to get to work.” And so they did.

────────

Ji-yeong and Sae-byeok sat shoulder-to-shoulder on their bus ride home, sharing a pair of wired headphones in between them that blurred out some obscure band Sae-byeok had found on Spotify. Ji-yeong sipped on her juice box as Sae-byeok sat deep in thought.

“Hey,” she finally said. “Did you notice anything between Mr. Seong and Mr. Hwang today?”

“What do you mean?” Ji-yeong replied, taking her earbud out. “Like, if they were fighting or something?”

“No, like… did you see how Mr. Hwang looked at Mr. Seong? Like, when Mr. Seong was talking to us, or explaining something. Usually Mr. Hwang looks so annoyed or disengaged. He has a serious resting bitch face. But he looks at Mr. Seong like.. I don’t know. Kinda softly. Like he lets his guard down. And sometimes Mr. Hwang just looks at Mr. Seong when he isn’t looking at him with something in his eyes..” she said, pensive.

“I don’t know. I didn’t notice it. I feel like you’re imagining stuff for the sake of drama. Ji-yeong furrowed her brows. 

“I’m telling you. Haven’t you seen the way he looks at him when he’s talking? Mr. Hwang is usually so strict and mean in his classes, but today he was almost… nice. Especially when it came to Mr. Seong.”

“Well… I guess. I still don’t know. Maybe he’s just being respectful and listening to Mr. Seong cause he doesn’t want to seem rude in front of another teacher, or maybe, you know, because they run a debate club together?” Ji-yeong replied, unconvinced. 

“No, something’s up. Mark my words.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so. I’m always right.”

“M’kay, Sherlock. I’ll keep an eye out.”

“You won’t have to,” Sae-byeok added conspicuously, raising an eyebrow. Ji-yeong fondly rolled her eyes and took another sip of her juice box, sliding her earphone back into her ear. Sae-byeok put her earphone back in her ear and thought about the Physics homework she needed to do. Mr. Hwang would be very mad at her if she didn’t complete it. She smiled to herself: she knew she wouldn’t do it anyway. 

Sae-byeok looked outside, watching the world pass her through the windows of the bus as the music playing from her earphones blasted in her ear. 

Chapter Text

As it turned out, spontaneous argumentation was actually quite a hard thing to master. At least, it was for Gi-hun

After talking to In-ho, he had gone home and started to do some research: he watched old championships, read articles, and spent hours scouring YouTube for a quick and definitive explanation of how to debate. It became quickly apparent that such a thing did not exist. Most of the videos were long and arduous, repeating the same information every time, yet the repetition still did not turn Gi-hun into a marvelous debater overnight. To be honest, it only made him more confused. 

He knew that if he were to call up In-ho, he would sit down and give Gi-hun a pristine and perfect explanation. The man not only seemed to have quite a bit of experience in debating, but also an innate ability to somehow tap into Gi-hun’s psyche and explain things to him in a way that no one else was able to. Everything out of In-ho’s mouth just seemed to make sense, and something about the man made Gi-hun want to stand still in front of him and listen to him talk for hours. 

Which was a totally normal and professional way to think about his coworker.

As the days from their first meeting on the train, to their lunches in In-ho’s classroom, to their debate club meetings stretched out, it was becoming quickly obvious that Gi-hun’s soft spot and slight crush on the man was growing into something definitively not casual. It was hard enough to reckon with the idea of any romantic feelings for the man when Ali had teased him about it at the staff meeting. Now, Gi-hun could see clearly that he was falling, no, plummeting face-forward into something that could only spell disaster. 

So he swallowed his feelings and kept them down with a surge of work. There wasn’t a moment he wasn’t thinking about his class plan, or the curriculum, or the mountains of homework and tests he had to mark. His use of the internet was almost entirely consumed with debate theory and rhetoric. Gi-hun wouldn’t say that it was painful to see In-ho, knowing that he was probably infatuated with someone who could never like him back, but it certainly hurt. Their lunches still happened every day, but Gi-hun directed the conversation to a ‘safe’ subject- what their strategy for the next debate meeting was, what the other man was teaching in class, conversations about the other teachers, etc., etc. Normal topics. Mundane, bland conversations, a voice in the back of his head whispered, which he promptly ignored. 

However, the lack of personal information being divulged did not make the lunches any less wonderful or interesting. Even though Gi-hun hadn’t the foggiest about the complicated theorems and formulas, In-ho tried to explain to him, he would listen for hours regardless. His teaching expertise was one of the few subjects In-ho truly felt confident to express his passion about. He spoke about his classes with such passion, trying to draw Gi-hun into some plane of understanding (which was never going to happen). In-ho could truly take up a room talking about Physics. His gestures and body language automatically shifted from a distanced, apathetic man to someone of confidence and vigour, his words spilling out more easily than ever and filling up the room. Gi-hun sat and listened, his head resting on his palm, and he could only ever think about how amazing In-ho was. How beautiful. And how Gi-hun was a fool. 

The debate meetings had been going quite well- they had met up many times in the space after the first time in preparation for their first debate, which was steadily approaching. Whilst Gi-hun had begun to grow more comfortable with debating and trying to develop the students’ skills, he was more than happy to allow In-ho to take the lead. While the students were still somewhat wary of the man, it was clear they respected and looked up to him. Gi-hun was content to be the happy mediator, trying to push as much ethics-based rhetoric into their conversations.

It all came to a head today. The first debate was tonight, so the team met at lunchtime in In-ho’s classroom as usual, in a bundle of nerves and anxiety yet still a current of excitement tentatively threading its way through the room. 

“So,” Gi-hun started. The energy in the room was already palpably different from their first meeting, when they all spoke over the teacher. Now, they were a team. A unit. And they acted as such. “How are we all feeling?”

“Scared,” Dae-ho immediately threw out with no hesitation. 

“I’m gonna shit myself,” Sae-byeok added helpfully, causing a few giggles to rise out of the apphersive crowd. 

“Thank you for that colourful language, Sae-byeok,” In-ho said from his place behind the desk, his hands on his hips. Gi-hun, who was in front and leaning onto the desk, tsked in response to her before speaking.

“The important thing to remember is that we have prepared for this. We have spent a lot of time doing drills, and you’ve all improved a lot over the past couple of weeks. You are good.” Gi-hun said to the class, the students all looking up at him with matching faces of unclouded anxiety.

“Yes,” In-ho added from behind Gi-hun. “It might feel hard when you get up there. You might want to freeze or run away. But you will need to push past that instinct. Not only does the outcome of this debate hinge on your commitment, but your ability to work as a team. To work as a team, you all need to contribute and support each other. Respect and uplift each other, otherwise this won’t work. An argument with no cohesion is not a debate at all: work with each other, not against.”

“Mr. Hwang is right. On that note, why don’t we go over our argument for tonight, and how this debate will be held?” Gi-hun asked the students, who nodded. “Now, we must remember that only three people are going to have speaking roles. Sae-Byeok, you’ll be the first speaker.. That means you’ll be introducing our team’s view and summarising our points, as well as presenting our first point. Now, we have been assigned the affirmative position, which means that not only will you be our first speaker, but also the person to start this debate. You need to put forward a strong point and make an impression. Dae-ho, you’ll be our second speaker. You’ll be rebutting the points made by the other team and putting forward our second and third arguments. Ensure you only spend a minute or a minute and a half on rebuttals, so you still have plenty of time for our arguments.” Dae-ho nervously gulped, yet still nodded. “Finally, Ji-yeong, you will be a final speaker. Your speech will be entirely rebuttals and a summary of all our arguments. You are critical to the team as you will be tying together all our work. This means you should be taking lots of notes throughout the debate, in case Dae-ho misses any rebuttals during his speech. You all should be taking notes, but Ji-yeong should be paying extra attention to this.”

The team all looked back at Gi-hun, before Ji-yeong looked down at her notebook.

“We’ll get our topic an hour before, right? And we’ll spend that time putting our case together,” she asked.

“That’s right, Ji-yeong. If you use that hour wisely, it should be more than enough time. Remember, Mr. Hwang and I will not be able to assist you during that time, so team communication is key to ensuring you put together a strong argument.” 

After Gi-hun had finished, the room was enveloped in silence, nerves about the night ahead sending flurries of emotion in the air. For many of the students, this was the first time they would be speaking in front of a group of people for longer than a minute or two. Gi-hun was confident Sae-byeok and Ji-yeong could handle it, but he wasn’t too sure about Dae-ho. Not that Gi-hun doubted his ability, but he was more concerned about his anxiety leading up to it. He didn’t want Dae-ho’s insecurities to get in the way of his performance. Suddenly, In-ho’s deep voice filled the quiet space. 

“You will all do great. I don’t just say that from the point of view of your teacher, but also a person who has seen your abilities and teamwork improve more and more each day. You have the skills: it’s important to remember you can do this,” he said, unexpected warmth colouring his tone. A sort of shocked silence dropped over the students; this was about as emotional as he had ever gotten.

“Thank you, seonsaengnim. That means a lot to us. Thank you for taking your time to help us,” Jun-hee meekly replied, replicating his soft tone. In-ho gave a rare, small smile. 

“Thank you, Jun-hee,” he nodded his head in response. A chorus of “ thank you” s erupted out of the group of students quickly after, and if Gi-hun didn’t know any better, he’d think they were all about to have a team hug. That idea was, of course, dismissed for the point of In-ho’s very nature. The man had already drawn the line at inspirational speeches (though it seemed he’d already broken that rule). Just as quickly as the outpouring of gratitude had begun, it was stemmed by the abrupt, loud ringing of the school bell. 

The students said their goodbyes and see-you-laters to the teachers before filing out of the room and to their last class of the day, till it was just Gi-hun and In-ho, alone.

Even though Gi-hun spent almost every lunchtime with the man, sitting across his desk and eating his cooking, being alone with him always sent a shiver of butterflies loose in his stomach. As his feelings had begun to grow progressively less and less platonic, he had tried to isolate himself from In-ho so they were spending the least amount of time together as he could, but it was a hard task when he was so unmistakably magnetized to the other man. As hard as he tried to get away, the pull of In-ho only seemed to pull him in closer and closer. The best Gi-hun could do was try and put a professional level of distance between them. Keeping their conversations strictly work-related, with no more sweet home visits or indulgence in personal stories. It was proving to be harder than Gi-hun could have ever imagined. It took everything in Gi-hun not to reach across the desk right now and pull In-ho into his arms, and… well, Gi-hun didn’t want to think about what would come after that. 

“They’ll be fine,” In-ho’s voice pulled Gi-hun out of his thoughts. For a second, he had to take a moment to realise what the man was talking about before quickly remembering the debate time. Of course. Maybe In-ho mistook his deep thought as anxiety for their students. “They’ve been working very hard over the past couple of weeks. And… and they’ve got a great teacher to guide them.”

“I hope you’re referencing yourself,” Gi-hun responded softly. In-ho simply ducked his head, trying to hide the faint, pink blush dusting his cheeks. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so genuine, giving that speech to the kids.”

“Well. They work hard. I want them to know that,” In-ho said. There was a comfortable silence between the two after that. Gi-hun didn’t feel obliged to say anything; in fact, he was compelled to keep this tranquil state of quiteness between them. It felt like a completely unexplored yet entirely familiar part of their dynamic, like a separate universe where, as long as he kept this peace, nothing bad could ever happen. In that moment, he wanted In-ho more than he had ever wanted anything in his entire life.

The thought sent a spike of fear into Gi-hun’s heart. As his eyes met In-ho’s open face, he felt a cold sheen of sweat wash over him. As if he were afraid of this tangible thread that connected the two, that had ever since that day on the train, he broke the silence as if he could slice it in half. Of course, for it to have even appeared in the first place, it was much too strong for it to be broken by Gi-hun’s fear.

“How are you getting there tonight?” he asked, his mouth working faster than his head.

“My car,” In-ho said. Was Gi-hun imaging his disappointment in his hurried statement, his words breaking the moment? Probably. “Do you need a lift?”

“Ah…” Gi-hun begun. He hadn’t even meant to go down that path of conversation, but he was true, he needed a lift. “Actually, that would be good…” he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“That’s alright, Gi-hun. I’m happy to help,” In-ho responded in mirth.

“Wait, if you have a car, why were you taking a train on the first day of school?”

“My car was scheduled for a repair that day, but I had made the booking before even knowing I’d take this job. It was too expensive to move it around, and… it was a nice change of scenery.”

Gi-hun snorted, and In-ho rolled his eyes fondly

“ ‘A change of scenery’, ” he laughed.

“Shut up,” In-ho grumbled, trying to hide his smile. 

“You are so strange,” Gi-hun grinned. Maybe a couple of weeks ago, the other man might have shied away after such a statement, but now he only responded with that sweet twinkle in his eye he got whenever Gi-hun teased him.

“So…” In-ho began. “I’ll see you at 5?”

“5 it is,” Gi-hun smiled and nodded in response, the words like honey in his mouth. 

Chapter Text

Hwang In-ho’s car smelled like mint and smooth cashmere. In the glossy leather seats and polished interior, Gi-hun felt horrifically out of place. 

After agreeing to pick Gi-hun up that afternoon, the two had exchanged details, and he had given the man his address. Perfectly on time, In-ho arrived at his apartment at 5 on the dot. Perfectly not on time, Gi-hun was still struggling into a pair of pants and shoving his things into a bag when In-ho had texted him to say he’d gotten there. After a struggle with his blazer and a quick tie around his neck, Gi-hun was out of his house by five past (a new record). When he stumbled outside, it took him a moment to place In-ho’s car, because it was midnight black and blended perfectly into the darkness of the night. The car itself looked subtle, yet still undeniably fancy, which left Gi-hun wondering how on earth the man could afford it on a teacher’s salary.

“Mr. Seong” In-ho’s voice called out, pulling Gi-hun out of his trance. In-ho had rolled down his reflective window and stared at him with a raised eyebrow and small smirk on his lips. “Distracted?”

“Sorry. I wasn’t expecting James Bond to roll up to my house,” Gi-hun responded quickly, walking around to the other side of the car and opening the door, stepping in somewhat smoothly. The interior was not significantly different from the exterior; it was dark, sleek, and sophisticated. Gi-hun suddenly felt very self-conscious of his slightly rumpled slacks and loosely done tie. 

“Mhm,” In-ho muttered, amused. Gi-hun traced the elegant crook of the man’s arm with his eyes as his hand rested on the gear shift. He was briefly entranced by In-ho’s large, slightly rough-looking splayed fingers before the man cleared his throat and began speaking. “Are we ready to go?”

“Yes,” Gi-hun replied, his mouth startlingly dry as he dragged his eyes back to In-ho’s face. Giving himself a slight shake, he quickly changed the subject. “Do you have any music?”

“Of course.” In-ho said with a tone that seemed to say “ obviously” , raising one hand from the steering wheel to tap the elegant-looking interface built into the console. “What would you like to listen to?” he asked, looking at Gi-hun over his shoulder. 

“You’re the driver. You pick,” Gi-hun shrugged. He wanted to see what kind of music In-ho listened to. He couldn’t even guess what the man would enjoy. In-ho simply nodded and typed something and pressing something on the screen, quickly adjusting the volume. Softly, the beginnings of a jazz ballad rose from the car, gentle sounds warming the space. 

“I wouldn’t have guessed you were going to put on this,” Gi-hun remarked, staring into the cityscape as the singer began to croon. It was in English: maybe an American song.

“What were you expecting?” In-ho asked, curious.

“I’m not sure. But it suits you, I think,” Gi-hun replied, looking back to meet the other man’s eyes. In-ho ducked his head and smiled. It was small, almost minuscule, but Gi-hun still noticed it. In-ho let the second stretch out a moment more before starting the car and pulling out. The screen switched from its display of the album cover to a map, a route already in the system. As they drove out onto the street, the music still played quietly as a tender silence spread out between the two. All of Gi-hun’s usual preoccupations for a somewhat professional pretence fell away the further they drove into the city. Instead, all he wanted was to simply exist in this space with In-ho. As friends, as coworkers, as… as more, he didn’t mind. It suddenly felt as if he had known In-ho for years. Their silence felt as if it was practised; it was comfortable and unpressured. And it was wonderful. 

Watching the lights of the city spin past them like shooting stars coupled with the warmth of In-ho’s presence sent Gi-hun into a deeply comfortable feeling, sending reality melding into a slightly dream like state: he could feel his eyes get heavy as gazed out the window, watching the world pass him by from the solace of his fellow teacher’s car seat. Before Gi-hun knew it, his face was pressed against the cold glass of the window, and his mouth gaping as he was being gently shaken awake.

“Gi-hun,” In-ho’s deep voice called out, unusually soft. “Wake up. We’re here.”

Gi-hun raised his head and closed his mouth after a quick yawn, slightly disoriented as he met the other man’s calm face. It took him a second to gain his bearings once more, momentarily distracted by just how… pretty the other man was. In-ho’s warm hand was resting on Gi-hun’s shoulder, still in place from when he had woken him up. Gi-hun could swear he could feel the heat of the other man’s palm, despite the layers of clothing that separated them. For a second, he thought that neither of them could breathe: there was some sharp, tangible tension in the air as neither of them broke the eye contact, In-ho’s hand still grasping onto Gi-hun’s shoulder like he would disappear if he let go.

The seconds past and went, but it was shattered when In-ho took in a sharp inhale, shaking his head and pressing his eyes shut, letting go of his grip on Gi-hun’s shoulder quickly, as if it burned him, and pressing both the heels of his palms to his eyes. Gi-hun similarly shook himself out of it, praying that he didn’t look as flustered as he felt. Fuck. He was so terribly down bad for Hwang In-ho, and there was absolutely nothing to do about it. 

“We should, um… get going,” he ventured, surprised that his voice barely wavered. In-ho took his hands away from his face and sighed deeply, nodding in agreement with his eyes till clasped shut. He pulled his keys out of the ignition and got out of the car, closing the door somewhat harshly behind himself, not looking at Gi-hun at all. He tried to ignore the scratchy, pathetic feeling that creeped up his throat at In-ho’s treatment, his chest feeling like a crumpled tissue. 

Taking a moment to compose himself, Gi-hun bit his lip and tried to put a lid on his sudden emotions before opening his door and following In-ho out. The other man had opened the boot of his car and was taking out his briefcase as Gi-hun made his way around the side, looking at the building where the debate was being held. It was a huge complex; his hasty research moments before In-ho had picked him up had told him it was an external campus of a fancy, private school in the centre of Seoul. It rose above the neighbour around it, the lights inside sparkling in contrast to the dark night behind it. Gi-hun leaned his head back, watching his breath fan out in a white cloud in front of him. It was an unusually cold night for almost halfway through spring, though Gi-hun found he didn’t really mind the temperature. The slight chill in the air made the warmth ever more appealing. 

“Mr. Seong?” In-ho called out; Gi-hun’s stomach sank at the revert back to his last name. Nevertheless, he looked back over his shoulder at the man, whose sharp silhouette stood out in the dark. “We should get going.”

“Yes, of course,” Gi-hun replied as amicably as he could, following the man’s path towards the building. A sort of awkward silence fell over the pair, one which Gi-hun had never shared with the other man before. Despite everything that had happened, the train and shirt incident included, they had never not spoken. It had been impossible before, but now Gi-hun was speechless. He could only wonder what he had done to make In-ho withdraw so quickly. Was he offended by the fact that Gi-hun had fallen asleep in his impeccable, perfect car? Surely not, but he couldn’t think of any other explanation. A pit opened in Gi-hun’s stomach as In-ho’s cold, apathetic silence built a wall between the two as they walked closer and closer to the building. They were almost at the door when the chilly silence was pierced by a yell behind them.

“Mr. Seong! Mr. Hwang!” A voice called. The two teachers turned around to be greeted by Jun-hee’s smile and bright wave, and Ji-yeong’s quick nod. “Hi!!!”

“Hello girls!” Mr. Seong smiled widely, glad that In-ho’s heavy stillness was no longer weighing on his back, but slightly disappointed it was no longer just the two of them. “Where are the other two?”

“Sae-Byeok said she’d meet us, and I think Dae-ho got here like, an hour ago,” Ji-yeong replied.

“Yeah, his mum is crazy strict. They’re always early to everything ,” Jun-hee rolled her eyes fondly. 

“Well, we should get in there and meet him, then,” Gi-hun said to the two, looking back over his shoulder at In-ho. He couldn’t read the man’s expression, but he didn’t look… upset, or angry. Gi-hun wouldn’t try to decipher what In-ho was thinking: that was truly an impossible task, but it made him feel a little bit happier that the man wasn’t annoyed. 

The group made their way into the warm foyer of the building, where the walls were coated with papers with instructions, and there were numerous tables set up with people swarming around. Gi-hun was immediately overstimulated, and the students similarly stood overwhelmed next to him. Thankfully, In-ho had enough sense to take the lead. 

“Hello,” In-ho said, approaching the nearest table where a woman sat behind a computer. “We’re from Changdong High. Where should we be going?” The woman looked up at him quickly before typing something into her computer. 

“You’ll be versing Apgujeong High School in room 457 tonight. It’s located on the third level, which you should be able to access through the stairs. There are directors on the wall if you need help finding it,” she said quickly. Gi-hun was barely able to catch a word, but In-ho simply nodded and thanked her quietly, before turning around to face the group. His eyes locked with Gi-hun for a moment before passing by him to look at the students.

“Alright. Follow me.” In-ho walked through the crowd with a sense of complete composure and ease as Gi-hun and the students trailed behind him. They made their way over to the stairwell, where the signs stuck on the walls with instructions written in bold letters told them to go up. The group moved in silence, nerves palpable between the students. It never seemed to matter how confident you were normally; in the face of competition, almost everyone felt anxious. The students displayed their inner turmoil in many different ways. Ji-yeong picked at her cuticles and bit at her nails. Like a worried mother, Gi-hun had the urge to bat her hand away from her mouth, but that would be an overstep. Sae-byeok had shoved her hands inside her pockets and attempted her normal, cool disposition, but the faint ticking of her jaw gave her away. Despite not being rostered to speak, Jun-hee was also squirming beside Gi-hun, rubbing and fiddling with her hands. 

Gi-hun would say something to reassure them, but he knew sometimes the best thing to do was to sit in it. To make kids grow confidence, you have to guide them: Gi-hun knew that they all had the tools and ability to do this, and the students did too. They needed to figure it out by themselves because words of praise could only go so far, and he had already given out a lot of them. The moment they would go up to speak tonight, Gi-hun had complete confidence they would fall into the rhythm. There might be some stumbling, sure, but they would be fine. 

In no time, they had made it up to the third floor. The hall stretched out into seemingly infinite rows of doors after each other, swarming with students and strict-looking teachers. However, while Gi-hun stood prone, his brain trying to compute which room could be theirs, In-ho walked out and studied one of the signs on the walls before looking back at the group and beckoning for them to follow him. Within moments, he strutted across the floors and subtly weaved through the crowd in a way that somehow still struck some sort of dominance. The rest of the group tried their best to follow him till finally he found room 457.

In-ho opened the door, and Gi-hun stood back, letting the kids walk in before him. As they all entered, Gi-hun finally followed. He looked up at In-ho, who stood by the door, keeping it open for him. Their eyes met, and In-ho swallowed as Gi-hun walked through. He made sure to brush close to the other man so his shoulder grazed against In-ho’s chest. The small move was somewhat insolent, a response to In-ho’s sudden coldness towards him, but the brush sent sparks flying through the point of contact. Gi-hun heard the door slam close behind him.

With a quick exhale, Gi-hun turned his mind away from the other man and focused on the room around him. It was much like the classrooms and Changdong High, with a lecture-like setup that positioned the board at the front a rows and rows of desks reaching to the back. At the front of the class, two tables had been set up slightly apart from each other for the two teams. Gi-hun obsevred the people he didn’t know in the room: a teacher with a harsh bob and strict expression speaking to a huddled group of students around her, who looked through cue cards quickly and hung onto her every word. Sitting at the desks around the room where who Gi-hun assumed to be the families of students. They all looked proper and smart, with perfect skin and hair tied together with nice clothing. In his slightly wrinkled blazer and slacks, Gi-hun felt quite out of place, not for the first time that night. Shifting away from families, he spotted a familiar face on the other side of the room. 

Dae-ho was sitting next to his mother, who had a small girl next to her. His mother looked pleasant, but slightly stern. In comparison, Dae-ho looked as if he were about to be sick. 

Jun-hee made her way to the trio, Sae-byeok and Ji-yeong trailing behind her. Within seconds, they had made their way over to the boy, and quickly they grouped together and began speaking in hushed whispers. From his place across the room, Gi-hun could see that Dae-ho looked pale and nervous, sweat pearling at his forehead. Before going over to greet his mother and check on the student, Gi-hun searched the room for In-ho. As always, his eyes seemed to quickly fix on the man. Standing a couple of metres away, he, too, looked towards the students, a look of quiet concern on his face. It was subtle, but surely there. His eyebrows creased, and his perfect mouth slanted downwards. Shaking his head, Gi-hun shooed his thoughts out of his mind; now was not the time to be thinking about In-ho’s mouth. He began walking towards the group, shifting a warm smile onto his mouth to greet Dae-ho’s mother.

“Hello Kang-ssi. I’m Dae-ho’s debate teacher, Mr. Seong,” he said once reaching the group. The boy’s mother looked up and puckered her mouth into a small, tight smile.

“Ah, hello. I’m Kang Eun-Kyung, nice to meet you,” she replied. There was something slightly fake, plastic about her response, but Gi-hun didn’t dwell on it.

“Is your son alright?” he asked, leaning in and whispering so the students wouldn’t notice their conversation, though he doubted they would even if he was speaking at a normal volume; they were deep in conversation about something or other. 

“Ah,” she said, her smile dropping for her lips to form a harsh line. “He has… problems with being anxious. It has decided to show itself tonight. I was hoping being on a team would help, but clearly he doesn’t care about that. I’ve given him a talking-to, so hopefully he can get his mess together on time.”

Gi-hun wasn’t sure how to respond. He was speechless at the seemingly cold disinterest for Dae-ho’s obvious anxiety, the action of trying to quell it rather than help him. It made his heart sink. Dae-ho was a wonderful student, but more importantly, an excellent person. Gi-hun knew him for more than his issues: he was not defined by them. Ms. Kang’s disregard for her son made Gi-hun feel horrible for the boy. It couldn’t help at any measure to have a mother who would rather show her disappointment than try to help him out of his thoughts. 

Thankfully, Gi-hun did not have to reply to the woman (even if he did, he had no idea what he would have said. Yell at her? Pretend to be understanding? He wasn’t sure). In-ho stepped into the aisle, and with that professional and commanding demeanor of his, he was able to deflect from Gi-hun and introduce himself. Gi-hun was unsure if the man had heard the conversation they had just had, but he knew that In-ho would be equally as disapproving of her views. Instead of continuing that train of thought, he moved on to the group of students, interrupting their frantic huddle. 

“Hey, guys, is everything alright?” He asked worriedly. The students all looked back up at him, except for Dae-ho, whose eyes were fixed at some point in the distance. 

“Dae-ho is-” Jun-hee began, before being abruptly silenced by a curt clap from the front of the room. In front of the board stood a crisp-looking woman with a name tag labelled “ adjudicator ” holding her hands in front of herself, expectantly looking towards the groups scattered across the room. 

“Hello,” she began. “I am your adjudicator for tonight’s debate, along with my partner, Cho Ha-jun. My name is Jung Yi-seo, and we will be running and judging your arguments tonight. I ask all students to please come to the front of the room. You will be taken to separate rooms and given your contention, in which you will be allocated forty-five minutes to put together your argument. I also ask everybody to leave all electronic devices at the front of the room, as you are unable to use them during your planning time. You will be supervised, so cheating is not possible. Any attempts to break this rule will result in the team’s disqualification. Thank you.”

There was a moment of silence before the room exploded in a flurry of movement. Jun-hee could do no more than give Gi-hun a look of concern before being whisked out by the group, who spared no second in getting to the front of the room and assorted out. No sooner was it till all who remained in the room were the teachers of the debate teams, the parents, and the adjudicators. His mind still stuck in worry about Dae-ho, Gi-hun had no choice but to sit down and wait for the next forty-five minutes, and hoped it all panned out well. Thankfully (or unfortunately), In-ho had only the same choice. He could do nothing more than sit down next to Gi-hun, a slight distance away from Dae-ho’s mother, but not too much to be uncomfortable. 

Gi-hun bit his lip as he felt the soft pressure of the man’s breath pressed against his shoulder. He seemed to have gotten over whatever had spooked him before, but there was that slightly hesitant, shy air disguised as coldness cloaked over In-ho’s figure, like he didn’t want Gi-hun to perceive him as anything but the apathetic ideal he had created for himself. But after spending countless hours together over lunches, in classrooms, training the team, and simply just spending time in each other’s company, Gi-hun could easily see through his facade. 

“Dae-ho’s mother is a piece of work,” Gi-hun leaned over to whisper in the man’s ear, quiet enough so the woman wouldn’t hear, but loud enough to let humor seep into his tone. At the sudden movement, In-ho jerked back slightly at Gi-hun’s voice; he simply attributed the man's reaction to surprise, nothing more… yet he spotted In-ho’s mouth tick up in a small, almost imperceptible smile.

“Yes, she seems quite… stern,” he replied in an ever-diplomatic voice. Gi-hun snorted and rolled his eyes. 

“I’m worried about Dae-ho, though. He looked like he was about to throw up when they were taken away.”

“Hmm. I noticed that, too. But I trust the kids to work it out among themselves. They’re smart, and they’ve been prepping for this.”

“Of course,” Gi-hun responded, but there was still a lingering whisper of doubt in the back of his mind. That train of thought was quickly thrown out the window, though, at the tug of a small hand on the cuff of Gi-hun’s slacks.

Surprised by the feeling, Gi-hun looked down with wide eyes to see a small, slightly chubby little girl looking up at the man with big brown doe eyes, remnants of her dinner smeared on her cheek, and her hair up in two thin ponytails. She looked like a toddler, maybe on the older side. 

“Oh, hello!” Gi-hun gushed, a warm smile quickly spreading across his face. “Who are you?” he said, holding his hand to the girl and looking around for a parent. The girl reached out and wrapped her sticky hand around Gi-hun’s index finger, saying some sort of greeting. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Seong- ssi !” Dae-ho’s mother said, dropping her phone and getting to retrieve her child. In a slightly quieter, scolding tone, she whispered: “Mi-Cha! I told you to sit by me!”

“Oh, it’s no worry,” Gi-hun replied kindly, looking up at the woman, and she towered above the two, her mouth pressing once more into that harsh line. “I have a daughter, too, so I know what it’s like to have them running around all the time. I’m more than happy to keep her entertained.”

“Hm. Alright, as long as you don’t find it annoying. What’s your daughter's name?” Eun-Kyung asked, her expression softening slightly as Gi-hun continued to beam at the girl.

“Ga-yeong,” he responded, more quietly than before with a slightly muted tone. His daughter was a sore subject for him. “She turns fourteen soon.”

“Oh, wonderful! Teenage girls are a nightmare, though. Boys aren’t too bad, but of course, they don’t all turn out good. Look at Dae-ho!”  she exclaimed, sitting back down and picking up her phone. Within moments, she was once more immersed in texting, or whatever it was she was doing. Gi-hun didn’t even reference the jab towards her son: at the mention of his daughter, it was like he had gone numb. Looking down at Eun-Kyung’s little girl, he was painfully reminded of Ga-yeong as a toddler: clumsy and wonderful and so, so lovely. Gi-hun’s throat suddenly felt like sandpaper. 

“You have a daughter?” a voice from beside him asked, dredging Gi-hun out of his thoughts. In-ho. Gi-hun cleared his throat painfully, praying for the tears threatening to edge his waterline to dissipate.

“Um, yeah. Ga-yeong. I don’t… I don’t get to see her that often, though. Well, I haven’t seen her in person for four years, now.”

In-ho’s eyebrows creased, the sympathy in his eyes saying more than his words ever could. However, he didn’t push Gi-hun into telling him what had happened, like people often did. Usually, he would be hesitant to speak about his daughter to other people, but this was In-ho. He trusted him more than he probably should. So Gi-hun continued. 

“When my wife, or ex-wife, divorced in 2017, I lost custody of her. Apart from visits, I wasn’t allowed to see her. So, when my wife and her new husband decided to move to America with her a couple of years ago, I didn’t really have a voice in the matter. I spent too much time drinking and gambling as a husband and father, so I couldn’t prove myself as a worthy partner or carer. I guess I deserved it, but it’s hard, y’know? Having my daughter out in the world, no idea how she’s going outside a couple of odd Zoom calls, no way to protect her in a foreign country. It’s been so very long since I’ve held a proper conversation with her,” he said, quietly so Dae-ho’s mother wouldn’t hear him and distrust his ability as a teacher. If anything had taught him how to be a better person, it was going into teaching. Gi-hun wished more than anything that becoming a father would have given him that revelation, not his career, but he couldn’t travel back in time and make it better. He could only make himself better for the future. 

“Gi-hun..” In-ho started softly. Quiet. And although the room was crowded with people, the building teeming with people, it suddenly felt as if it was only the two of them in the room. Staring into each other’s eyes, only inches apart. With an abrupt movement, In-ho clasped Gi-hun’s wrist. The firm warmth of his fingers encircling Gi-hun’s hand pushed the air out of his lungs. Looking up through his eyelashes, Gi-hun bit his lips. “I’m sorry, I.. I also-”

Their moment was sliced clean in half with a sudden, insistent tug at Gi-hun’s knee. His eyes ripped away from In-ho’s open, vulnerable face to meet a slightly irritated-looking girl.

“Hey!” she grumpily said. Despite Gi-hun’s lingering curiosity about whether In-ho was about to divulge to him, he had no real choice but to turn his attention towards Dae-ho’s younger sister.

“Sorry, I was speaking to my fellow… teacher, Mr. Hwang. I’m Gi-hun, nice to meet you,” he smiled at the girl.

“I’m Mi-Cha!” she replied, her momentary annoyance wiping away with a sunny smile.

“Mi-Cha! That’s a very pretty name.”

"Hm. I know,” she replied sassily. It was clear where the confidence in the family had gone. Then, with a conspiratory look, she rested her forearms on the tops of Gi-hun’s knees and leaned in. “Is Mr. Hwang your husband?” Mi-Cha said in a stage whisper.

Mortified, Gi-hun leaped back, a faint red dusting his cheeks. He looked quickly at In-ho, who seemed to be staring blankly into space before meeting Gi-hun’s gaze. At his strange expression, he cocked his head and lifted an eyebrow, as if to ask what was going on. In a silent sigh of relief, Gi-hun relaxed. Thank god he hadn’t heard Mi-Cha’s remark. Shaking his head as if to say nothing was wrong, Gi-hun returned his gaze to the girl standing eagerly in front of him. Leaning in, as if they were criminals discussing their plans, he whispered back to the girl.

“No, of course not! We’re just teachers.”

“Hmph. Well, he looks like your husband,” Mi-cha replied, slightly exasperated as if it was obvious. 

“What makes you think that we are married?”

“Well, my kindergarten teacher, Ms. Park, got married last month, and her husband looks at her like Mr. Hwang looks at you. And they also both work at the same school,” she said, fiddling with a loose thread on his pants. Gi-hun exhaled: the idea that he and In-ho were together wasn’t based on anything much other than an association made between teachers getting married. It was nothing more than pattern recognition. Well, he couldn’t quite explain the remark about how Mr. Hwang looked at him, but Gi-hun brushed that thought away. It was nothing more than wishful thinking. 

Gi-hun opened his mouth, but didn’t have the time to respond before the woman from before, Jung Yi-seo, the adjudicator, stood at the front of the room and began speaking.

"Hello, everybody. The forty-five minutes of preparation have concluded, and our debate will shortly begin. Please welcome our teams.”

Dae-ho’s mother suddenly put down her phone and beckoned Mi-cha over to sit beside her. The child was surprisingly obedient, going to sit straight away. Tearing his eyes away from the mother and daughter, Gi-hun watched the door as the first team entered. It was the opposing team from Apgujeong High School who walked in first. Their team was made up of two boys as first and second speakers in smooth blazers and shining badges. A short but intimidating girl followed behind them, and they made their way to the table at the front furthest from the door, cue cards and pens clasped in their hands. Gi-hun quickly inhaled as their team began filing in. 

Sae-byeok entered first, her head held high and hands dug into her pockets. Whilst she wasn’t the picture of the posh, elite high schools that littered the hallways of this debate meet, she was no less scary looking (if not more). But instead of Dae-ho following behind her, as he should have been, there was only.. Jun-hee? Looking small and nervous, she rushed in, followed by a perfectly apathetic Ji-yeong (who Gi-hun could spot was still scraping at her cuticles).

Dae-ho, who was supposed to be the second speaker, was nowhere in sight.