Chapter Text
When the famoso TJ appears in the library, it seems like time stops for the rest of the students.
"Oh Taejoon in the library?"
"That's impossible."
But it isn't.
Taejoon walks through the place dragging his feet, his backpack hanging off one shoulder, and his expression shows just how bored he is.
The girls around him whisper and blush when Taejoon gives them a quick glance.
It’s absurd, thinks Youngwoo as he rolls his eyes in annoyance and looks down to focus on his book. It’s amazing how they all act like that over a football player when everyone knows those types are just guys with athletic bodies and the intellect of a troll.
With a sigh, Youngwoo tries to concentrate on his reading, but he can’t. The student he’s supposed to be helping was supposed to arrive forty minutes ago.
Youngwoo hates lateness.
His friends think he’s a control freak, and he doesn’t deny it, because after the whole family mess he’s been through, he needs to feel like he has control, at least a little.
Just five more minutes, Youngwoo tells himself, I’ll wait five minutes and if no one shows up, I’m leaving.
Either way, he’ll still get paid for the tutoring session.
Youngwoo keeps reading until he feels someone stop right in front of him. He looks up with an annoyed expression, ready to scold the student for being late, but what he sees leaves him speechless.
Oh Taejoon.
Now that he’s standing in front of him, he notices his sports jersey is slightly sweaty, like he came straight from the field. His hair is messy, his sleeves rolled up, and he scratches the back of his neck with that arrogant smile that’s made half the school swoon.
Youngwoo hates football players.
"Ian?" Taejoon asks, tilting his head.
Youngwoo blinks. Then he blinks again.
"You’re…?" he begins, frowning.
"Your student," says Taejoon, smiling like it’s the funniest thing in the world.
Youngwoo can’t help but notice the boy’s arms, the broadness of his shoulders. What the hell do football players eat? He forces himself not to look again, then remembers why he was angry.
"You’re late," he snaps, crossing his arms. "And don’t call me Ian."
"I was… busy," says TJ with a lazy smile. "So should I call you Youngwoo, Ian?"
Youngwoo blinks, confused.
"What? I just told you—"
Taejoon shrugs and drops into the chair across from him, his smile never fading.
"Alright, I get it, Youngwoo. Or should I call you professor? Professor Shin, that actually suits you."
Youngwoo narrows his eyes.
"Are you messing with me? Are you trying to make fun of me?"
"I’d never do that, Professor Shin," replies Taejoon in a playful tone.
Youngwoo glares at him.
"I don’t have time for stupidity. If you’re not going to take this seriously, I’m leaving."
Taejoon raises his hands like he’s surrendering.
"Okay, Youngwoo. I’ll do whatever you say, I promise not to waste your time."
Youngwoo doesn’t answer right away. He watches the smile on Taejoon’s lips, the way he settles into the chair like he doesn’t have a single worry in the world. And it drives him crazy.
"Fine," he says finally, still frowning. "Take out your notes."
"What notes?"
Youngwoo covers his face with both hands.
"Oh God."
Taejoon laughs, and Youngwoo knows he’s missing something, but he’ll let it slide. Just for now.