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1997yakul · 6 months

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Don't Leave Your Lunchbox in the Aisle

.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

Hey, you! Yeah, you! Stop there!

Na Jaemin needs a tutor before he’s booted off the basketball team and loses his chance at a scholarship. (and probably his mom's respect...) Can you help out?

You have a slightly awkward history, yet still maintain your unbearably ginormous crush? You're the perfect candidate!

☆ ☆ ☆ Sign up here! ☆ ☆ ☆

(masterlist) ☆ (nct masterlist)

.｡.:*♡ Pairing: student!jaemin x tutor!gn reader

Word Count: 7,9k (one-shot)

✧ Tags: unreciprocated crush to lovers(?), angst, fluff, humor, kissing, pining, swearing, detention buddies yay, tutoring, slowburn, You Fell First! He Fell HARDER!(punches wall)

start + end date: September 21 2021 - October 6 2022

✧ Notes: this was written for my lil friend bongbong who likes a slice of the weird jaemin pie. Shes always hyping up my stuff and supporting me in my weird endeavors. Shoutout bongbong!!!!!!!

originally posted on ao3

✩ fic is below the cut! enjoy ✩

There's something weirdly satisfying about the feeling of your sweated out forehead peeling off of your desk. It's sticky and kind of hot, probably due to the piles of blankets you shrugged over your shoulders in a fit hours earlier.

It was a promise you made to your mother that brought you here, the brilliant plan to study at any moment of downtime and then take the exam when you got home from helping her at her work. It seemed sort of.. ingenious at the time..? Now, everything's kind of flipped belly up as you drag your finger in panicked circles across your trackpad. You did submit it, right? Wiping at one of your eyes in horror as you wake your laptop up, there's this white box with black text that stands front and center on the screen before you.

'Assignment is no longer available. Click 'close' to return to classroom homepage.'

"What?" You whisper to yourself, eyes fluttering to the bottom right of your screen. The time reads 1:49 AM. Your hand falls to your desk with a thump, and the blankets on your back slide off pathetically.

This type of shock doesn't send you into a full blown panic, not yet. Tapping the 'close' button, you exhale and watch as the page reloads. Searching for the 'Midterm Exam' assignment ends up being a useless, piteous effort. It's now listed under the locked 'Past Assignments' bar.

"No. I turned it in." You lean back in your chair, shaking hair back from your face as you give yourself another moment to think. "Yeah." It's kind of a lie, you think. Maybe just speak it into existence. Falling asleep in the middle of an online test is simply not possible. Not for you at least. Not one that's worth 50% of your grade. Not one that you were sure you already finished last night after you showered.

"It wasn't submitted, I'm not sure how else to tell you this."

Sometimes, things just fall apart.

"I swear I submitted it. I did it when I got home last night."

Your hybrid schedule due to the pandemic has you at a socially distanced desk for 4 hours every Tuesday and Thursday, and the masks make it hard to see if your teacher has an expression of actual sympathy or just really needs to shit. Eyes alone are not enough to piece it together, you realize. He slips this red piece of paper onto the surface of your desk before moving on to the student behind you.

It's asking for a guardian's signature of knowledge that you failed to turn in your midterm.

Across the room leaned up against the far wall, Na Jaemin holds his red card too. He flicks it loudly, his eyes dashing over the brim of his white sanitary mask from left and right as students pass by.

'the desks are socially distanced but students are allowed to get up and walk around and talk to their friends lollll'

Incomes a text from Chenle from the front row, glittered with emojis of zany faces and tongues.

'stupid af' He texts again, his head swiveling to face you to see if you're checking your phone. He turns back.

'how tf did you get a red card???'

You sigh, brushing hair out of your face before texting back.

'i feel asleep before i clicked the submit button'

'bruh' Chenle replies after a short moment.

'i heard if you do a sport or like lead a club or something the principal will just like let u graduate anyway'

He texts again, tacking on an emoji of a cat smirking.

‘i’ll be fine it’s just gonna suck to get my mom to sign it but she will understand… i got the whole rest of the semester Dw dw’

Your eyes go a little blurry with sleep, sneaking a glance at Jaemin against the wall as you yawn. He's typing something rather ferociously on his phone keyboard. His hair is dyed a chestnut brown, his roots grown out an inch in black, swept forward falling over his eyes.

You have been on the same bus as Jaemin since your 10th year at high school, transferring from an online school experience suddenly after a move. Growing up with close to no one you could consider a friend, Jaemin was the first person who ever caught your eye enough to call it interest. He was peak ‘public school’. He seemed friendly, charming, athletic, outgoing— he was the stop right after yours and was always running after the bus. Waving his arms as he chased it down until someone in the back would call up to the driver to tell him he missed someone. It felt like a scene from a movie, like there was no way that he was not the love interest.

Never did he ever forget to shoot the bus driver this breathless smile as he took the stairs two at a time. So hopped up on adrenaline and determination it made your head spin. In the Summer, the humid mornings with the sun already risen in the sky, dribbles of pearlescent sweat beads would slither down his temples like cobras, and in the Winter, the sky would be dark and ominous and Jaemin would board with a cherry red nose, only visible by the bus' interior lights. Every morning you watched just for that same smile, and every morning each one was more charming than the last. You watched again and again, just to dart your eyes away as soon as he finished giving his thanks to the driver.

Everything changed, whether it was the changing of the seasons or the changing of semesters, everything changed except Na Jaemin's stupidly charming smile. Your pupils would fall to your bag in your lap to twiddle your thumbs and deal with these childish feelings that boil up and bubble over like a science experiment gone wrong.

He was so super popular because of his endless prettiness and confidence. One time he came to school in a crop top and got dress-coded. He was even seen arguing with staff in the middle of the hallway holding the wrist of another student, bickering endlessly until the staff argued back with words just a little too big for him, words that left Jaemin just a little too quiet, and then he would just smile— laugh at it. The girl with him who had tears in her eyes over their failed attempt at a protest patted at his back for them to leave. He moved on, but never gave up. He would try again in a month. He was unstoppable. He’d lose with a smile.

That's probably one of the most disappointing things about the situation of the world right now. It may sound selfish and of such the tiniest amount of importance, but the worst part of the masks and the social distancing was easily missing out on Jaemin's smile each day. No matter if he was pissed off, shocked, confused, disappointed, he would smile that beautiful smile that would make you feel like projectile vomiting glitter.

Somehow everything he did was interesting. Attention-worthy. Your head lifts up from its downward position, relocating to face where you last saw Jaemin, but he's missing.

There's suddenly 3 messages from Chenle.

'after school today, let's go get snacks.’

'oh wait does the red card mean detention?'

'earth to my astronaut?? helloooo'

You sigh, running your fingers along the edge of the thick paper thoughtlessly. "Ouch!" Comes shooting from your mouth, your body jolting in your seat. Your blood oozes in a thick stream from the fresh cut on your finger, instinctually, you draw it to your mouth. The rough papery material of your mask presses to your lips, and shaking your head out of the clouds helps you realize the last minute you lost to your daydreams. There's a stifled laugh from the side of the classroom, and for a moment you split to smile back at them with your usual "Yeah, I'm kind of an idiot sometimes. It's okay!" reassuring aura, but this time it's not a friendly face among your acquaintances of peers, but Huang Renjun and Jung Sungchan.

There's something so unnerving about being laughed at by students who you just have the most powerful sense of superiority complexes from. It's not like they've ever been outright mean, but with students so judicious, sometimes they don't have to be mean to feel mean. Like they must just already have everything so carefully set up for them that they have not a single care in the world. Like they're above high school and probably understand how investing in stocks works (Cool people don’t understand stocks!) and have their life planned out til 40.

The worst part is that Na Jaemin is standing there next to them. His eyes fall flat of emotion, his face is angled down at his phone, but his eyes, heavy-lidded, are staring at you. Your hand slides across your face, arm covering your mask and its fresh blood splotch, turning your head to face the window.

Sometimes you wonder how Jaemin can deal with so much attention. With eyes that seem to always be on him. Of course your eyes were a part of them too… something deep inside hoped he could tell you thought of him differently. It wasn’t just that one day with the crop-top, before that he would get dress-coded everyday for his shoes. He would wear Converse, black on black instead of the dress shoes all students were meant to wear. He used to be given notes to bring home every single day. It took a month or two for them to just give up on him changing for them. Some people saw it as him being stubborn, or said it had to do with how much money his parents made, but you thought it was a small type of heroism.

Detention is packed, seriously packed to the brim, students overflowing the desks and crammed into all corners of the classroom. It's definitely not following coronavirus regulations, but at this point you're less than surprised at your country's 'safety in the education system' plan. More than anything in this moment, you'd pay to get a glance at Jaemin. Wherever he may be smushed, you just knew he must've looked amazing. It felt like an insatiable addiction to just take glances at him throughout the day, like, A Little Fix Here! and A Little Fix There! With a fresh mask on, you felt like you could take on the world, like, sure, you made a fool of yourself earlier– but he probably doesn't know who you are, so it doesn't even matter!

Your phone buzzes from deep inside your bag, and you begin searching for it instinctively before the instructor at the front of the room makes some lame call-out for you to stop. A mere "Oh, shit. Yeah." slips off your tongue before you lean back up to your desk, but your head hits the underside of the hard surface. The quiet class, filled to the brim with students, all turn and stare. Your hands fly to grip at the desk you just hit your head on. Today isn't one for the books, obviously.

"You're alright." Whispers from the windowsill, and your brain shuts down.

It's Jaemin.

His hand is atop your head, petting carefully.

You don't even know how it got there, or when all of this just decided to take place, but today is now absolutely the best day ever. Totally one for the books!

"Thank you." You whisper back. It's kind of coy and cute, and you don't mean for it to come out that way, but your nerves have encumbered you from saying anything even slightly self-assured.

"Take care of yourself." He whispers again, this time, it matches your tone. Bashful. "You hurt yourself a lot nowadays."

"Oh." Comes tumbling from your lips before you can catch it, scrambling for words to act as a proper response to what feels like flirting. Is it flirting or just genuine kindness? So he saw you earlier, is this him bullying you? Why was it so sexy though? Is it Na Jaemin or is it Eros? Aren't they sort of the same thing at this point?

His hand falters from your head, and your own darts up to smooth down any misplaced strands of hair. Jaemin swings his legs back up onto the vent before him, leaning his back against a beam between two large windows. The room is quiet besides some whispering here and there, but before Jaemin can help it, he returns to face your desk again. His legs fall over the edge of the sill again, slouched comfortably. Thighs spread like syrup over hot pancakes, his hands running down his slacks until they pause at his knees, smoothing wrinkles as he goes. He's leaned much further forward now, and his breath is calm. Warm and subtle, he blinks through dark eyelashes and asks

"Why are you so nervous?"

Probably the worst thing to ask someone who is nervous. He continues, "Is this your first time in detention?"

You exhale deeply, there's not even an effort in trying to conceal it. It's like a boulder has just been heaved off of your chest. He isn’t flirting, he’s just being nice. "I should've guessed. You have big eyes that look to explore, but you're keeping to yourself."

Interesting. Almost poetic.

"Would you rather me talk to you?" You ask, suddenly feeling a chill up your neck. When were your eyes ever considered big?

"No." He answers, soft and serious before his eyes squint in laughter.

Short puffs of contentedness leave your nose in muffled exhales. Everything feels so right at this moment. "Same here."

"Too bad." He whispers, this time, the hair that has feathered over your ear brushes against your cheek when his breath reaches you. It smells like coconut and spearmint, he chews gum behind his mask, which is obviously outlawed. You know he’s a rule breaker, but now he’s breaking rules around you… it’s sexier. He's flattening himself out even more now, practically folding to reach his arms to cross over themselves on your desk, head falling atop of them. "Have we met before?" He blinks up at you, kittenish and cute.

Internally, you are scolding your heart like a dog that jumps too much. Down boy! Calm yourself! But the ba-boom, ba-boom grows stronger, louder, and Jaemin is just getting closer, and closer. "I don't remember. I don't think."

"You don't think?" Jaemin repeats, his beaming smile lights up his face, although he's got a mask on to cover the best part, it reaches his eyes easily. Somehow it comes with great beauty and delivers great anxiety. "We're on the same bus. You don't recognize me?"

"Oh!" You beam back with overzealous surprise, you big fat fibber. "You're on bus 127 too?" You nod, his Converse with the tears in the canvas nudging against your shoes.

"Yeah. I thought we made eye contact a few times. I guess my face is more forgettable than I thought. Darn." At this point, his fingers are tracing circles around scribbles on the desk. It's so painfully obvious you've been caught and he thinks it's hilarious to see you suffer so immensely. He knows you've been watching him all this time, it's humiliating.

Something inside, lost in the depths of repressed feelings, clicks in that moment. Like, is this it? Are you just another privileged stupid asshole that has fun messing with people who fall for your amazing face? "Dumbass." You gasp, hand flying up to your masked face, eyebrows darting up on your forehead. "Sorry. I didn't mean to say that."

"Dumbass." Jaemin repeats with a scoff and a laugh. "I'm not a dumbass! You're the dumbass. I'm not blind, you look at me all the time!" He's whisper-shouting and some people are starting to glance over in your general direction. "Why would you possibly stare at a person so much? Because you have a crush."

"I do not have a crush, Jaemin. You wish."

"So you do know me?" He leans back up against the window sill again, his right shoulder resting on the support beam.

The teacher up front smacked the yardstick on the chalkboard twice, dismissing students in a matter of seconds. Jaemin is quick, his foot slamming a strap of your backpack on the floor. You look up, one hand around the free backpack strap, the other pressing down on your desk. You glare at him for a second. "Do you know my name?"

"Y/N."

There's this slow motion moment of silence where you realize, "Wait, you know me?"

"Since the first day back to school. Where you sat in my seat on the bus with your hair all sweated to your forehead and your lunchbox in the aisle." You stare up at him, maybe two or three inches below. Why is blinking suddenly impossible? "You had the baseball cap you used to wear, the red one." He motions a hand to the left side of your forehead, mimicking the brim of the cap. The classroom is empty, your knuckles whitening at the tautness of the pull on your backpack. "Let go for a minute." He asks, and it feels very genuine, so you do.

"I have to go home and study, like now. If I fail this class I'm done for." You push in your desk chair and look back up at Jaemin. "I would really appreciate my bag now." You lay your hands out flat, palm up. Somehow there's tears swelling in your eyes, and if you cry right now, that'll be super embarrassing. So you close your eyes to hold them back.

It's quiet for a second until two footsteps place Jaemin behind you. His hand envelopes a shoulder as he drags a strap over each one. It's scary how careful he is.

"There." He whispers, it's very quiet. "I'm sorry." He says, so quiet it's like he wants to not be heard.

"Sorry." You return, opening your eyes again. The window shines in the brightest sunshine you've seen for a while, you blink a few times and wipe away wetness before turning around. He stands lanky and still, head hanging mysteriously low in shame. "Don't feel bad, sorry I didn't react like how you're used to."

"I'm not used to any response at all, that was my first… statement."

"Confession?" You correct, and watch as his eyes trail back and forth between the tiles on the floor. His hands fiddle at his sides, fingers touching each other all over. You take quick steps and wrap your arms wide around him, feeling the back of his neck in one slide of your palm, his hands reaching back out just a second too late. "Bye." You mumble, prancing itty bitty steps out of the classroom before full-on sprinting down the hall.

'youre so weird Wtffffff why didn't you like be normal omhgh y/n'

'i don't know it was so awkward i wish i was never born'

'but u hugged him AAA'

'it was so bad please i like ran away afterwards it felt like kindergarten'

'its okay dw you can try talking to him more tmrw!'

'i have to focus on school now tho? like what are the fucking odds that the minute i actually am being forced to do better in school is the minute the loml confesses to like, being interested in me…'

'fail the class, join a club. trust me.

HOLY SHIT Y/N, TWO IN ONE. JOIN THE BASKETBALL TEAM!!!

I kind of wanted to join too… and ur like kinda tall… i believe in u'

’chenle i dont like sports and there is nothing in the world that could convince me to join.’

'just do it trust me jaemin is the only good one so even if ur bad u will blend in… plus maybe u can be like omg Jaemin how do i dribble omg i only know how to dribble drool down my jaw staring at u mwahmwah and then he'll be like Oh same let's make out'

‘chenle.'

'hehehehe'

The bus ride is quiet, some gentle stirring every once in a while from the few seats behind you, but your heartbeat is all that you can focus on. The ride is suddenly so much longer than you're used to… every turn the bus makes in the direction of Jaemin's stop is a step closer to imminent doom.

Today is no different from the rest, Jaemin is caught waving the bus down with swinging arms and curved eyes, boarding with a bow before making his way down the aisle. It clicks quite quickly where he is planning to sit. Normally he gets on, takes a few wide steps, and plops himself in one of the first few seats. His eyes find yours almost instantaneously upon boarding, his palms smacking the corners of each seat as he passes them.

"No, no, no, no, no" you find slipping out from under your breath as he nears your seat until he's shoving you in the direction of the window with a giggle.

"Hey, buddy~" Jaemin sings out, smiling dangerously through his mask. His legs spread out wide and his black converse position themselves in opposite diagonals, creating an obtuse angle. Feels like you're back in Trigonometry. Your eyes zig-zag between the seat in front of you and the window out to your right. Ruffling the front of your hair a little, you adjust yourself to face him, just slightly. "There you are." He whispers, his eyebrows smoothing out after a quick bounce.

Your heart takes precaution.

"I was worried you might ignore me, actually."

You hum a little note. "I'm surprised you're not ignoring me. I thought you might've been embarrassed."

Jaemin contorts his face slightly, tilting his head to the side, leaning until it falls against the seat in front of you. "Embarrassed? Why? What happened? I'm sitting here because this is my seat. This is the first time we are speaking." He holds out his hand, offering it. “My name is Jaemin.” His other hand traces shapes into his right thigh, maybe it's a nervous habit.

"Oh?" You catch on quickly, "Nice to meet you, Jaemin." The bus slows into a full stop to pick up a few more students, they take wide-legged steps down the aisle. The boy in the seat next to you disconnects eye contact for the first time since he boarded.

Each small pothole in the pavement rattles the bus gently, but Jaemin turns the small tremors into earthquakes, making sure to knock knees and shoulders at every small jostle, side-eyeing your reaction at each touch. There used to be something so terrifying about thinking of talking to Na Jaemin, like he would be too cool, or just think you were boring… but it's so different now that it's been put into action. He's cheesy, and embarrassing when it comes to showing public affection. This bus-ride twice a week leads to many 'Scandalous Public Transport Assignations,' as Jaemin labeled them. Smiley, tossing winks and sometimes a Brownie Bite from his lunchbox. The 30 minute bus ride would feel like 2 minutes next to him.

“Today, you should come with me to basketball practice.” Jaemin is downing his half of the blueberry muffin you provided him with, speaking with full cheeks. “You can meet the other guys, and…” He brushes crumbs off of his lap. “I want them to meet you.”

“Wow, that’s forward.” You look over to Jaemin, who swallows the rest of his muffin with a loud gulp.

“Too forward? Aren’t we dating?”

“DATING?!” You yell out in shock, which causes multiple heads to turn and face your direction. You pass shy smiles and apologize softly to some people near you, sinking further into your seat. Brushing a strand of hair back with your pinky, you bite at your cheek, trying to think of the right words. Jaemin is sitting next to you, shoulders tense. “Okay, sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Patting him uncomfortably on the shoulder seems to do the trick! That is, if the desired outcome was for Jaemin to appear extremely embarrassed. “I don’t remember ever… agreeing to that.” You smile, and Jaemin’s shoulders drop significantly.

“But we sit next to each other on the bus every single day.” He mimics a friendly wave, “And we wave to each other like this in the hallway!” Jaemin shuffles through his bag until he finds his milk carton. “And we give each other gifts.” His eyes blink rapidly, remembering something. “And you already hugged me.”

Your ears sting with hotness. “Okay, but those are things friends do too. We haven’t even been on a date, or ki...ssed.�� Somehow it's hard to even say the word in front of him. Both sets of eyes fall to the floor of the bus. “I know we got close fast, but… If I’m going to date someone, even if it’s someone I’ve liked for a while… I still have standards.” Jaemin looks up and nods suddenly with determination. He brings his empty hand up from his side and offers his pinky.

“Promise me if I do those things, I can tell people I’m dating you.”

Wow. It’s kind of baffling. He’s uncontrollably cheesy and really bad at stuff like this. Maybe romcoms have set your expectations for high school boys a little bit too high.

“Okay. I pinky promise.”

“Stamp it.” Jaemin commands. “Sign it.”

“Copy it.”

“So dramatic…” You push his hand back into his lap and fold your fingers together.

Jaemin is smiling.

Two weeks later, Jaemin frantically texts you 13 times in less than 30 seconds.

‘hhey y/n’

‘this isvery important’

‘Respondpls’

‘My mom saidtaking my phoneaway’

‘Bc failing english and’

‘Help’

‘y/n my bus buddy’

‘PLSSS’

‘M also fail math n scienc’

‘I have an iddddea’

‘REPSOND MYABY’

‘LIFE OR DEATH’

‘CALL 119’

‘WHAT????’

‘JUST CALL ME…!!?’

And so the phone rings.

“Hi, my baby. Here’s the thing, I have this great idea. And it will work. Because my mom doesn’t know about you-”

(Why doesn’t his mom know about you? Your whole family already knows about Jaemin! This is embarrassing. I mean, you have only been talking for 3 weeks, and you did say you wanted to take things slow, so why is Jaemin the one who’s treating this like one big-)

“Agree? It’s a good idea right? Then we can spend time together! Infinite dates!” Jaemin finishes, his breath pouring into the phone in loud intervals as he wraps up his speech. Unfortunately, very little was heard or understood, so a simple- “Of course! Let’s do it!” suffices to make Jaemin happy.

The only downside is you’re completely unsure of what you have just signed yourself up for.

* It only takes 4 seconds with Jaemin’s mother to greet you with: “So you must be my son’s tutor!” to get you up to speed.

“Yes, Miss Na. Here to help with the classes he’s struggling in.” You beam, realizing you are ill-equipped, hands empty besides your special green pen with sparkly ink. “And, um, Jaemin said I should just bring myself- since he has his textbooks with him!” Scratching at your left shoulder, you hope she doesn't notice the bead of sweat forming on your forehead.

“Of course, of course. Well, come in, might I add- you are just as cute as a button! I set out some mango for you. You’ll be okay at the dining room table, I presume?”

“Gosh!” (You haven’t heard that exclamation come out of your mouth in ages.) “Thank you so much, and yes, that’s perfect.” Peering past Jaemin’s mom as you step inside, slipping your shoes off, you notice that his house is much different from yours. The ceilings are very low, wallpaper is seen peeling at the seams, and the floor is scuffed where you stand. Although clean, this house is struggling. Jaemin is at the table, his feet curled up onto a dining chair, making the hole in his sock visible.

“Now, do you have a running rate for your services? I know it looks like we don’t have the most money, but I work long hours and will be able to afford what you deserve. His education is everything to me.” Your heart breaks slightly, and you shake your head side to side.

“This is just volunteer work for the school’s Honor Society, don’t worry.” You make your way to Jaemin, who’s smiling at you from his seat. “The most I might need is… a signature? To mark off my hours...? If that’s okay.”

His mom’s eyebrows bounce in amazement. “Jaemin told me it might cost a bit, so I was really prepared! Please, if you need anything, let me know. Thank you so much. I have a shift in about 20 minutes, so I need to be on my way. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She lets her palm slide down your arm and kisses Jaemin on top of his head, and then she’s gone.

The door slams and you turn your head to Jaemin with fire burning in your eyes. “You were going to have her pay me?! What is wrong with you?”

“You are seriously going to tutor me, why wouldn’t she pay you? I wanted to be fair.” He rolls his eyes and lets his head fall back against his neck.

“But you’re-” your eyes scan the entryway and dining room, fist balling.

“Yes, we are not rich.” He sits up properly in his chair. “Doesn’t mean we just get out of paying for things that you are meant to pay for.” He shimmies in his chair. “We aren’t slimy, and don’t think my mom only took your offer because she was excited to get out of paying. She believed you. That’s why she took it.” His palms fall flat on the table as he hoists himself up.

“I don’t think that!” You argue, “Don’t say that. I don’t think like that. Learn to trust a little, Jaem. I’m your friend, I didn’t want to be paid because I’m your friend. She works hard and doesn’t deserve to have to deal with you failing all your classes because you think not trying is cool.”

“I think trying is not cool? Are you serious? Is that the person you think I am?” Jaemin’s face gets bright red at that one.

You stutter slightly at the sight of him angry. “I didn’t mean that. I just said it, I don’t know why.” He laughs like he’s really hurt, like he’s so baffled he ran out of viable words. You don’t think you want to be here anymore. “I’m sorry.”

“Let’s study some English, then.” He sighs out.

You quickly learn that Jaemin is not the type to say something impulsively. That doesn’t mean he won’t crack a joke that objectively sucks or make a funny noise when he realizes he’s been quiet for too long; but rather that when he means to speak seriously, he will think it through thoroughly beforehand. He chooses his words carefully, even if they don’t sound carefully chosen, (his vernacular kind of lacks…) He just wants to be understood in a way where whatever he is expressing is exactly how he wants to express it. This is a great talent, one that you most definitely do not possess.

You’re in the middle of analyzing a poem when Jaemin interrupts you. “I do try. I try really, really hard.”

“I know.” You say, quietly.

“No, you don’t. Because what you said earlier must’ve had some truth to it. At least from your perspective. Now, I want to explain my perspective.” He looks up to your eyes without ever moving his head. His eyebrows furrow harshly as he thinks, and then lifts his head. For the first time in your life with Jaemin, this is the first time he’s looked so serious, the first time he hasn’t been smiling. “You are one of the only people on this Earth; besides my mom, that I actually want to make proud.” He fiddles with his pencil before letting it fall to his notebook page. “Everyone works at a different pace, you know? I work slightly slower, and that doesn’t mean I’m not trying- it doesn’t mean I’m stupid. It just means that I need more time to figure this shit out.” He shrugs in his zip-up hoodie, feeling the end of its sleeve between his fingers. “Who knows, maybe my end product— whether it’s a math equation or an essay, is better written, easier to understand, is...” He displays his palms in a ‘you get it’ manner. “There are a lot of students who struggle the same as me. We all try. It’s just different for us— learning is different. Please don’t just assume I don’t try because I don’t do well.”

Your eyes trace along the lines of his face for a moment before looking down at the sentences on the book below you. “I understand. I’m sorry. I hated how I said that so carelessly. I-I am proud of you. I am proud of you for many reasons. I want you to be proud of me too.” There’s a little silence afterwards, just so he can think about everything, process it. He whispers a “Thank you” and you complete one more problem before he’s back to spacing his eyes around the expanse of the room. It takes a minute or two until Jaemin is back to smiling, but the pain of worry stings his eyes, obviously feeling more than he wanted to let on. He opens his mouth a few times to speak before shutting it with a shake of his head. It hurts your heart more than you expect it to. “I’m only worried if I lose my position on the basketball team…” He stutters for a second, motioning with his hands. Looking away for a moment with his palm over his mouth. “I don’t want to lose this thing I love, and I don’t want to let down my team, and I don’t want to… to lose potential scholarships or let down you or my mom.” He forces this extremely weak smile and twirls a pencil nervously. “So… I’ve got to give it my all.” You lean back in your seat, and watch him come to terms with the feelings he's realizing that have suddenly begun to overwhelm him. “I’m gonna tutor the shit out of you.” His eyes dart up to you, scanning over your face before a smile tugs across his lips. This one is real, like he believes you. His head drops back to the paper on the table before him. “Don’t worry. You’re not losing anything or letting anyone down.” You tap your pen onto the next essay question in his homework, “I won’t let you.”

Jaemin leans over the table far enough that his butt leaves his seat so he can wrap his arms around your neck and rest his chin on your head. It lasts for a moment, then he pulls back, scoots himself in, and picks back up his pencil.

That Thursday, Jaemin and you stay after school. He has basketball practice, and asks you to wait in the gym as he goes into the locker room to change. They don’t wear masks, you guess because it could be hard to play with them on. There’s already a few guys dribbling a ball around and chatting while they wait, their shoes squeaking intermittently. “How do you know Jaemin?” One of them asks, you don’t recognize them from any of your classes, but Sungchan stands slightly behind him, ajar, watching his teammate interact with you.

“Same bus, actually.” You throw a thumb behind your shoulder as if you’re pointing to the bus lanes. They’re actually in the complete opposite direction. You hope he doesn’t notice.

He starts making his way over to you. “Oh cool. He’s one of the best players we've got.” He nods, beckoning for Sungchan to come join the both of you. “This is Sungchan, and I’m Jeno.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.” Your shoulders instinctively broaden, like some intimidated wild animal. They’re taller than you. Jeno… not by a lot, but Sungchan has quite a few inches on you. Jeno says some stupid thing under his breath, something like… ”Rad,” “Epic,” or “Chilllll.”

Explosive laughter echoes from behind you, and Jaemin is jogging up in athletic shorts and a jersey. “So awkward, Jeno.”

Jeno’s face flushes, he smiles, spinning around in an embarrassed circle, flourishing with the ball between his fingers. “Trying to welcome your newbie, leave me alone!” He bounces off towards the basketball hoop with big bounding leaps.

Sungchan gives a weak smile. “Nice to meet you.” You nod back, if anything he seems more shy than intimidating now. Jaemin pats your shoulder, poking a finger into your lower back to get you to start moving forward with him. You trail behind Sungchan as a few more boys come out of the locker rooms, boisterous enough to get you to turn back to watch them trickle out. Jaemin smiles at you, craning his head over to you, blocking the view of the door.

“I’m the cutest, trust me. Don’t bother wasting your time.” You smile back, turning forward as he pulls his hand back to his side. You believe him.

Jaemin texts you a picture of him with the rest of the basketball team, each one of them cheesing so hard that their eyes are all swallowed up. They surround their coach who in turn, holds Jaemin up on his shoulders. Jaemin has his fingers gripped tightly around a small trophy. You have to pinch and zoom in pretty far to even see the little gold award. Nonetheless, all of the boys look ecstatic.

‘Yessss!!!!!’ you text, littering the chat with confetti poppers and balloons.

He responds with a close up picture of him pouting his lips. ‘Where do you want it?’

You pull up your blankets out from under you, nuzzling your cheek into your comforter. ‘butt’. You type out, searching frantically for a gif after the read receipt pops up.

‘Your wish is my command.’ He responds, signing off the text with an emoji of a peach followed by one of a kiss. You smile big.

Jaemin is the same as always at school, only sometimes he glances over at you, mid-conversation with a friend and nods a slight smile, even across the entire room you never miss it. It’s low effort, but it feels like the best thing in the world. It makes you think to those bus rides where you didn’t know him at all, and how each season he looked more boyish than the rest, floppy and carefree and completely exasperated by his sprint to the bus doors. It was flashing shades of red and white and you wonder what he looks like now. You think to yourself how lucky you feel now. You don’t look away when he boards, or shy away behind the person’s head in front of you. He looks for your eyes and locks into them before you have time to pull your backpack into your lap. He’s calmed down now, like he understands you better and isn’t just being loud to cover up hidden worries. He squeezes up close and leans his head on your shoulder, he’ll lay his head down on your lap, and he will grab and hold your hand like it’s everything he will ever know. The red glow of the interior bus lights slide over the side of his face like a painting and he whispers homework answers like love poems. He’s easy, like it was always meant to be this way. You wonder how you ever lived without him.

It’s nearing the end of the semester now and tutoring Jaemin has been enlightening. His mind is beautiful and he never fails to surprise you with his specially hidden sensitive brilliance. It's dark when you finish up Jaemin's English packet and his mom arrives home with a noodle dish in a plastic to-go box. She sets it on the table and pushes it between the two of you. "I just ate some on the bus home, so I'm full. You two can share if you'd like. Again, Y/N, thank you so much for your kindness. I can sign now, then I'm off to the shower." She smiles. Jaemin gives a side glance that just screams 'She's never that nice to me!' And you can only reassure her that it's no issue, and Jaemin is a determined, creative learner. His ears blush with a saturated pink when his gaze shifts from his mom to you. His mom signs off on your paper and shuffles into a dark hallway behind the both of you.

"No way you actually believe that…" He fiddles with his warm ear between his index finger and thumb.

"Of course. You go after what you want."

Jaemin laughs and his hand falls into his lap. "Right, just very very slowly." You're packing up your textbook as you shoot him a smile.

"And? You said it. Different paces, it's alright. You have such a fun way of going about answering things. You can see in your work that you see the world differently from everyone else. You see it with hope.” You pluck the pencil from Jaemin’s loose fingers and tuck it into your pencil case with a smile. “You're smart."

His eyes light up. "Wow, no one has ever said that to me before. I could kiss you right now."

"But… should you?"

"Should I not?" Jaemin has this smile that glides across his face and eyes blink slowly, like a cat showing its affection.

“You can, if you’d like.”

Jaemin laughs sharply, rocking back in his seat with his palms pressed firm against the edge of the table. His smile falters into a downturned expression of focus. “No, because— I’ve dreamed of this…” He stands out of his seat, turns around and paces a few times across the dining room and through the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” You laugh, standing up to watch him. “Jaemin.” You place your pencil case on the table, folding your arms as he continues pacing.

“Wait, I can’t do it now. Give me like, 5 minutes.” He pauses, turns, faces you, and points. “I need to get you by surprise.” Then continues walking back and forth.

“I don’t want to be kissed by surprise, I want our first kiss to be…” You motion with wide swinging arms. “Like, kind and…” Your hands cup and cradle the air.

Jaemin stares, nods slightly like he’s factoring in a few different possibilities and outcomes, and then returns back to his seat. You stare down at him for a second, and his eyes flicker up to you for a moment before returning to his homework. He spins a pencil around and between his fingers.

“I want to like… make out.” You say softly, watching him from above. He stops pacing for a second, processes, then continues. “I want to… touch you all over.” Your stomach turns harshly, and Jaemin freezes again, his body still. “I want to have—”

“Y/N! You’re still here. You’re usually on your way home by now, aren’t you?” Her voice is slightly stern, your eyes bulge and flicker between Jaemin and his mom. Neither of you dare to move. Your logic is: Maybe if you’re super still, she will forget the last 10 seconds.

It does not work.

She clears her throat, and you see her hair wrapped in a towel, pajama-clad figure just in the corner of your peripheral vision. You think you might pee yourself out of fear. “Need anything else signed? A ride home?” You can only shake your head slowly before turning and swiping a few papers into your backpack, gathering it up and walking to the door without ever glancing back at Jaemin.

“We’re dating. I’m their boyfriend.” He spits out, Jaemin’s voice makes your head whip around, and your eyes skip back and forth between Jaemin and his mom. Your heart is beating out through your ears. “We were going to kissssss...” His words fizzle out and his eyes shift between his mom and you as you attempt your daring escape. He points down at the table, finger pressing into a notebook. “Go.” He whispers, and you both sprint out the door.

The moonlight cuts through the trees as you walk down the street. Jaemin doesn’t usually walk you home, but since the sun has been setting earlier and it’s getting colder, he has been occasionally joining you. He hooks your elbows like a barrel of monkeys.

Jaemin laughs so hard he has to wipe tears from his eyes. “I thought she was going to actually strangle you, throw your body across the room like a doll.” You lean forward and back again as you laugh, Jaemin steps heavy with tireless energy and silent laughter casts over the street.

“We’re-dating-I’m-their-boyfriend.” You mock him, and he shoves you with a shoulder off the curb. You try to catch yourself, pulling your hands out of your pockets a second too late. Jaemin grabs your arm and pulls you back to him, shouting apologies up until you can steady yourself. “You’re so cute,” you whisper. He pulls you into his chest and you lock eyes for a moment, it’s almost romantic before you stick your pinky in his ear. At this point, you’re sure you’ll keep sabotaging yourself out of this excitement until you’re both 80. It makes his shoulders jump and his neck go limp, his arms noodling and recoiling away from your touch. You both laugh until you make eye contact again.

“I like you. I really do. A lot.” He gushes, his fingers sliding their way up your sides to pull out your ears.

“I like you when you’re ugly.” He pushes your nose up, snorting like a pig. “I like you when you’re beautiful.” He lets his fingers trace down your neck, kissing you twice, chastely on your jaw. “I liked you when you took my seat on the bus.” He folds a hand around your wrist. “And I liked you when you left your lunchbox in the aisle.” He kisses again, another time on your cheek.

“But I like you the most, the absolute most…” He kisses your bottom lip, giggling as he moves his way up, angling himself with a slight bend to his knee “…when you like me too.”

☆

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