SCHOOL F*CKING SUCKS! | YANDERE!BTS

STUPID, STUPID PROJECT

WARNINGS. none!

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of course you had to be paired with him.

it seemed like your history teacher loved throwing challenges your way, ending the last senior semester grading period with a project and purposefully pairing you with kim taehyung. rich, egotistical, class clown, kim taehyung. of course it's logical to put the class president with him, the class president who has to deal with his daily teasing and flirty comments. of course.

and of course, he's thirty minutes late.

it's long past the end of the school day and the classroom is empty. the teacher trusted the two of you (okay, mainly only you) to lock up her class after borrowing it, though taehyung happily snatched the keys and said that he'll keep them so you won't have to worry about losing them (and for that reason, you worried even more). you sit at your desk in the front row, scowl growing bigger and bigger with each tick of the ugly clock. you try not to pay too much attention to it, constantly refocusing on the clicking of your laptop as you type away at the keyboard. you're beyond irritated; you have two tests, an essay due, and a student council meeting tomorrow. namjoon assigned you to do some research, and if you didn't get that done, he'd surely look at you with a face of disappointment. you scream in your head at the thought. blame it on kim taehyung, you think, who's still not here thirty-three minutes after the promised time.

"class! president!"

thirty-four.

you don't look back to him, just continue to watch the words form on the document of your screen, fingers never slowing one bit. you hear the door slide shut and click, and his pricey shoes tap at the floor as he walks closer. "sorry, had something to do," he says, his low voice echoing off the walls. you can tell that he's got on a friendly box-like smile that borders on sheepish; the same one that he would give when he asked his teacher to forgive him for being reckless with his devious pranks, or when he told his group members that he forgot to do his part of the assignment. "ran here knowing that you'd be waiting for me, my beautiful class president."

"what could you possibly be doing for thirty four minutes," you ask (it's not really a question; it's more of a statement that emphasizes your annoyance). you ignore his remark. it's something you're used to.

he laughs, as your attitude is something he's used to as well. "because i'd like to preserve my reputation, i'll give you the grace of not knowing."

he's in front of your desk now. your eyes look up at him, observing any hints that could possibly give you an idea of what was so important that he had to waste your time. but he looks normal. normal, as in his handsome self; perfectly messy black hair, beautiful eyes, honey skin that's tan from baseball practices. his crisp school uniform wraps his tall figure, and his blazer is casually unbuttoned (unlike yours). his loose tie could be done better, but you weren't going to fix it for him. you accidentally glance at his crotch that's eye level with you.

"want a picture so it'll last?"

you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, then you narrow your eyes when taehyung gives a wink. "just get started already," you grumble with an eye roll, "we only have forty-five minutes left since someone ditched on the first half hour."

he clasps his hands together like a prayer and squeezes his eyes shut, pouting, "awe, i'm sorry! really, it won't happen again!"

"there won't be an 'again'. just get the poster paper at the front, taehyung."

he sends you an overdramatic salute and sets his backpack down, then walks to grab at the stack of posters under the chalkboard.

"i'm almost finished with the research, we just have to transfer all the information onto the poster. and all the printed images are in my folder. and don't forget that this has to all be in pen, taehyung, so..."

your voice trails off when he puts the poster on the large desk at the front of the room before slumping onto the teacher's chair. it's a cushioned rolling one, and it seems relaxing to sit in, unlike your stiff student seat (you can tell by the way he leans back with a sigh).

you stare at him. "... what are you doing?"

"hm? oh, i'm sitting down."

"no," you say, frustrated, "you're not supposed to be sitting at mrs. yoo's desk... you know she doesn't like that." he should know, cause he's been scolded too many times to be oblivious.

taehyung scoffs and puts his hands up in a shrug. "she's not here. it's just the two of us." his palms go to rest at the back of his head. he looks far too comfortable. might as well kick his feet up. "and this is the only desk that's large enough to put the paper on. it's not our fault that yoo's a nitpicky teacher." your lips purse into a firm line at taehyung calling mrs. yoo informally. he swivels around like a bored child waiting for ice cream. when he notices you not following, he motions for you to come. "thought we were working together, no?"

it's your turn to scoff. "the fact that i already did seventy-five percent of the work should give you an answer."

you clearly want to stay in your seat, but after he complains some more about how nice the chair feels and how far away you are, you internally groan and stand up. there's another smile on his face, but it's one of satisfaction; one that appears when mrs. yoo gives in to his pleading (because no teacher would want to scold taehyung, whose family is practically a breathing bank for the administration), or when his classmates timidly accept his apologies. you grab your laptop and your bag as you walk to the large desk, pulling a chair with you along the way. then, you plop down on the (still rather stiff) seat, patting your almost knee-length skirt and continuing, "i shared the document with you, so you can start copying it down on the poster." you open your laptop.

he doesn't move, only looks down at your skirt with an amused stare. you glare at him. "taehyung, we really need to-"

"you wanna sit on my lap?"