Mark isn't ignorant to the stares. He knows that more than one horny bastard is checking him out as he tilts his lean body over his desk to retrieve something from the drawers. He makes a game out of seeing how fast they can turn away before he looks back. But, still, there is one student that he doesn't mind to catch staring. Choi Youngjae is quiet, introverted. Mark only calls on the boy when he raises his hand, and those times are rare. Youngjae just doesn't have much to say and prefers to do his work silently. Mark can't blame him for that.
"Saem, I have a question."
Mark raises his eyes at the familiar voice and works his way over to Youngjae before even checking if it's his hand that is raised, it is. Mark memorized the boy's sweet, timid speech on the first day.
"What's the matter?" Mark leans over the boy, fully aware that his button-up is only fastened half way and that's just enough for Youngjae to catch a glimpse of the older's toned chest. He relishes in how his student's cheeks bloom in a rosy color from the view.
"It's this problem," Youngjae points out a question on the paper. "Is it morally correct to file charges for rape considering Person A is underage, even if both parties have given verbal consent?"
"Youngjae," Mark is smirking and he makes sure that Youngjae is watching the older's slim finger slide its way across the paper to the question to distract the younger from his racy expression, "everything's alright as long as it's consensual. It isn't rape if both parties enjoy it. Morals aside."
Something about the the way his teacher says this turns Youngjae's thoughts dirty. He gulps and leans away a bit, nodding his thanks and going back to work. The way he's got the boy flustered injects Mark with a filthy pride and he goes back to his desk. He's content with just staring at the boy under the guise of revising his teaching plans and glancing over the edge of the manila folder infrequently.
The bell signalling the end of the day rings and the clatter of packing up ensues. The only thing on Mark's mind, despite the chaos of thirty kids stampeding for the door, is flagging down Youngjae before he leaves.
"Yes, saem?" Youngjae stands in front of his teacher's desk, playing with the straps of his backpack from nerves.
"I just wanted to say that you don't have to be afraid to ask more questions in class. It's my job to help you. Make me do my job," Mark ends with a small grin that has Youngjae smiling back. He nods in his usual fashion and heads for the door. Mark stares after him as he makes his exit. 'What a fine ass you have, Youngjae-ah.'
The sun has ducked underneath the horizon and an array of purple hues streak the darkening sky. Youngjae is just leaving the library and he has a long walk ahead of him. It's not the the distance that he's complaining about, but the circumstances. As he starts to make the slightest dent in his several-mile trekk, a brisk wind whips past his exposed arms and he tucks them closer to his body.
Every now and then the quick flash of something causes him to jump, and he calms himself. Reminding himself over and over again that it's just his shadow on the pavement. The loud beep of a car horn almost makes him wet his pants. A silver toyota pulls close to the sidewalk and drives slowly next to Youngjae. He's ready to start screaming bloody murder when the window rolls down and a familiar face appears.
"Mr. Tuan?"
"Hi, Youngjae," he flashes a brilliant smile and Youngjae has to remember to breathe. "Isn't it a little dark to be walking home?"
"My house is only a little over a mile away in that direction," Youngjae throws his index finger towards south and turns back to Mark to assure that he'll be fine.
