Be My Teacher || K.SJ

F O U R

I drag my feet exhaustively as I walk inside the school building. I was up until 2am last night working on the short story Mr. Kim requested, along with the class assignment. My eyes feel heavy, and my brain is currently functioning at about 2%.

I lazily push open the doors and make my way to my locker, slowly turning the dial and opening it to grab some of my supplies. 

I close the locker and turn around, almost crashing into somebody. I jump backwards, dropping my short story pages on the floor. I watch in horror as they float down onto the ground, and I quickly scramble to pick them up.

"I'm sorry." I hear an unfamiliar voice, accentuated with a thick Korean accent as he bends down beside me, helping to pick the paper up.

I don't answer him, the only thought in my head is the wrath of Kim Seokjin coming down on me if I don't present my short story to him on time, and in pristine condition. 

He strikes fear in me, nothing like anything or anyone ever has before. I have a strange need to impress him, this obligation to him that I need to bend to his every will. If I don't impress him, then I fail. And I can't fail.

I stand up, collecting every piece of paper I can find on the floor. I clumsily check the pages, putting them back in order, until I realise there's one missing. 

"Here." He says. I see a hand outstretch, holding a single piece of paper. 

"Thank you." I mumble, grabbing it from his grasp and putting it in the pile, reorganising them in order.

 I finally look up at the source of the voice, and my stomach drops. I clutch the paper to my chest, staring at him wide eyed. It's the boy from yesterday, staring at me from the other side of the hallway leaned against the wall.

"Are you alright? You look flustered." He says, tilting his head to one side.

"Y-Yeah, I'm sorry. It's just this is important." I chuckle, looking down at the paper in my hands.

"You're in the literature class, aren't you?" He chuckles, a small smirk creeping on his lips. 

"How did you know?" I respond, staring at him.

"I can just tell. A lot of his students are skittish. I hear he's scary." He laughs. 

Scary? More like terrifying.

"Just a little." I laugh nervously. I feel awkward, and I keep checking the time on my watch, remembering he wanted it on his desk by 8am.

"You're not from here." I hear him say. I look up, and I'm met with his strong gaze.

"No. I moved here just over a week ago." I mumble, biting the inside of my cheek.

"Well..." He trails off, extending his hand out to me, offering a hand shake.

"Welcome to Korea. I'm Jung Hoseok."

I look down at his hand, then back up at his face, staring blankly. I slowly reach out my arm, and wrap my fingers around his hand, shaking it awkwardly.

"Thank you. I'm Willow Collins." I smile.

"Pillow?!" He exclaims, laughing loudly.

"What? No, Willow." I correct him. He continues laughing, a bright, wide smile on his face, showcasing his perfect row of white teeth.

"I'm sorry, my English isn't that good." He chuckles.

I find myself laughing along with him, my body relaxing in his presence. 

"It's okay." I giggle. I quickly check my watch, seeing t's 7:55am. My heart skips a beat, thumping loudly in my ears.

"I'm sorry, I need to get to class. It was nice meeting you." I say quickly, waving to him as I rush down the hallway. He smiles and waves back, giving me a slight nod.