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Euijoo never expected much from the flyer he taped outside the campus café:
Private Guitar Lessons – Patient, Experienced, Discreet.
He wasn’t looking for trouble—just some extra income and maybe a student who’d appreciate his carefully labeled chord sheets and structured lesson plans. Someone quiet. Cooperative. Preferably early.
What he got instead was Nicholas.
Late on the first day. Rain in his hair. Shirt slightly wrinkled, a few buttons undone at the chest like he’d thrown it on without a second thought. He walked into the studio like he’d done it a hundred times, dropped his bag beside the stool, and gave Euijoo a once-over that lingered just a second too long.
“You’re the teacher?” Nicholas asked, lips curled in a half-smile.
Euijoo nodded, clutching his clipboard. “Yes. I—um—yes.”
Nicholas slouched into the seat beside him without waiting to be invited. “Cool. I don’t really do boring stuff, so… show me something fun, Teach.”
Euijoo blinked. “I prepared a structured set—basic chords, finger exercises—”
Nicholas’s grin deepened. “You can toss all that if you want. I’m more of a ‘learn by doing’ type.”
From that moment, the lesson slowly dissolved into something Euijoo couldn’t quite label.
Nicholas didn’t write anything down. He barely followed the diagrams. And every time Euijoo reached out to adjust his grip, Nicholas would look at him—steady, teasing—and say things like, “That where you want me?” or “Should I go slower, or is this fast enough?”
He made everything sound suggestive. Maybe on purpose. Maybe not.
But Euijoo felt it.
The shifting space between them. The warmth where their legs brushed. The slight pressure when Nicholas leaned in too close, claiming it was “easier to learn by watching.”
He stayed the whole hour.
And he came back the next week.
And the one after that.
Soon the lessons became a blur of tangled chords, warm laughter, and something unspoken humming in the air. Nicholas didn’t seem to care about improvement. He cared about sitting too close. About hovering behind Euijoo while pretending not to know where to place his fingers. About leaning over him, close enough to count eyelashes.
Euijoo tried to ignore it. Tried to focus on music theory and finger strength and technique.
But every time Nicholas smiled—like he was testing limits, just waiting for Euijoo to crack—his heart gave the same shaky answer.
Maybe, just maybe… this was more than music.
Today, Nicholas is early.
Euijoo nearly spills his coffee when he spots the figure already lounging just inside the studio door — hoodie up, hands tucked in the front pocket, head tilted slightly like he’s been waiting forever.
“You’re… here?” Euijoo asks, blinking.
Nicholas lifts his chin. “Miss me?”
“You’re usually ten minutes late and somehow louder.”
Nicholas shrugs as he steps fully inside. “What can I say? I was excited. You make major chords sound sexy.”
Euijoo chokes on air. “I—what?”
“Joking,” Nicholas says, not sounding sorry at all as he drops his bag and claims the seat. “Unless you liked it. Then I’m serious.”
He sits with one leg stretched out, the other bent lazily as he pulls the hood down just far enough to reveal his smug grin. Euijoo, noticeably taller even while standing stiffly beside him, opens his binder and clears his throat.
“We’re doing chord transitions today. Again.”
Nicholas groans. “Again?”
“You didn’t practice.”
Nicholas picks up the guitar like it’s a prop in a rom-com. “That’s what you’re for.”
“I’m here to teach, not play catch-up every week,” Euijoo mutters.
“Then teach me.” Nicholas grins, eyes flicking up. “I’m ready. Hands-on, right?”
Euijoo sighs and steps closer to adjust Nicholas’s grip on the neck of the guitar. As he leans down, his fingers brush against Nicholas’s — just a moment, soft and accidental.
Nicholas freezes. Then smirks.
“Your hands are cold,” he says quietly.
Euijoo blinks. “I—it’s because I was holding coffee.”
“Mm. Sure.”
Euijoo moves behind him instead, circling to avoid the stare that always makes his brain short-circuit. “Your wrist is too stiff. Relax here—like this.”
He places his hand lightly over Nicholas’s, guiding the angle. Their skin brushes again. Nicholas doesn't move. In fact, he leans back a little — into Euijoo — like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Hey—Nicholas—don’t lean—”
“I’m shorter,” Nicholas says, resting fully back against Euijoo. “Height disadvantage. I need support.”
“You absolutely do not—” Euijoo stiffens, trying to step back, but Nicholas is planted.
“I’m just trying to learn, Teach.” His voice drops, low and infuriatingly smooth. “You always say posture matters.”
Before Euijoo can peel him off, Nicholas shifts the guitar slightly. One hand misses a string entirely, and the neck tips forward—knocking into Euijoo’s thigh.
Nicholas moves to catch it and, once again, his palm lands firmly on Euijoo’s leg.
This time, he doesn’t even pretend to be surprised.
“Oops,” he says, slowly looking up. “Déjà vu.”
Euijoo stares down at him. “Your hand—”
“Right, right,” Nicholas says, withdrawing it with theatrical slowness. “Boundary issues. Got it.”
He stands, slinging the guitar over one shoulder like he’s cool and unbothered. “Guess I’ll behave next time.”
“Next time?” Euijoo echoes.
“Same time. Same seat. Or maybe,” Nicholas says as he reaches for the door, “I try your seat next time?”
The door clicks shut before Euijoo can form a single coherent word.
The next day; Nicholas is already there when Euijoo walks in.
Sitting casually on the sofa, hoodie up, fingers idly running across the strings in absolutely no rhythm. He lifts his head when Euijoo steps inside, that familiar smirk already tugging at his lips.
“You’re early,” Euijoo says, brows raised.
Nicholas shrugs, pushing his hood back. “Guess I was... excited for class.”
Euijoo narrows his eyes, walking over with his binder. “You didn’t even touch the warm-ups.”
“Was waiting for you.”
He says it like it’s casual, but the way his eyes trail up to meet Euijoo’s gaze says otherwise. Something in the air is different today—less teasing, more charged.
Euijoo clears his throat. “Let’s go over chord progressions again. G to D to C.”
Nicholas hums as he picks up the guitar. “I already forgot G.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“You wound me.”
“You deserve it.”
Euijoo steps in to adjust Nicholas’s hand, but the moment he leans forward, Nicholas turns—and suddenly, without hesitation, shifts onto the sofa again… only this time, onto Euijoo’s lap.
“What—Nicholas!”
“Shh. I’m trying something.”
“You’re literally—”
“In your lap, yeah.” Nicholas settles comfortably, back pressing to Euijoo’s chest, the guitar laid across both their legs. “Honestly? Feels kind of right.”
Euijoo is frozen stiff, glasses sliding slightly down his nose as his brain works overtime.
“This is completely inappropriate,” he mumbles, but his hands are still on Nicholas’s.
“Cool. Keep going,” Nicholas says easily. “You were saying—D chord?”
Euijoo should push him off. But his hand slides automatically over Nicholas’s fingers, adjusting them one by one, guiding the motion.
And Nicholas… he’s not making jokes now. He’s listening. Leaning back. Breathing slower.
“Your hands are still trembling,” Nicholas says quietly, head tilting slightly so his voice brushes Euijoo’s jaw.
“I’m not used to students sitting in my lap,” Euijoo replies, trying — and failing — to sound stern.
Nicholas hums. “You should charge extra for this kind of lesson.”
“Nicholas.”
“Okay, okay,” Nicholas says — but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t let go. “Can I say something without you kicking me out?”
Euijoo doesn’t respond, but Nicholas turns just enough to glance up at him.
“I like you.”
Silence.
Nicholas’s voice drops. “Actually... I liked you way before I ever signed up for this class.”
Euijoo’s breath catches.
“I used to see you around campus all the time,” Nicholas continues. “You always looked so focused. So serious. I thought it was cute. I thought you were cute.”
Euijoo’s lips part, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“I kept walking past the café just to see if you were there again. When you put up that flyer? I didn’t need guitar lessons. I just wanted a reason to be near you.”
Euijoo stares down at him, stunned. “You’re serious?”
Nicholas nods, smiling faintly. “I’d sit in your lap every day if it meant you’d look at me like this.”
Euijoo exhales a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “That’s not exactly romantic.”
“Then let me try again.”
Nicholas gently shifts the guitar aside, turning enough to face him fully — and before Euijoo can overthink it, he leans up and kisses him.
Soft. Real.
Euijoo’s breath hitches — but he kisses him back.
Hands still curled around Nicholas’s waist. Their knees brushing. The guitar forgotten on the floor.
When they finally part, Nicholas stays close, lips hovering just inches away, eyes searching Euijoo’s face like he’s still trying to memorize every detail.
“So,” he says breathlessly, “do I finally pass?”
“You’re still failing.”
“Damn.”
Euijoo exhales a shaky laugh, brushing Nicholas’s hair back gently. “But... you can retake the class.”
“Only if I get this seat every time.”
Euijoo doesn’t push him off.
He just nods. “Deal.”