Be My Teacher || K.SJ

T H I R T Y F O U R

I walk back into the room towards our booth, still in slight bewilderment and confusion at Hwasa's last comment. I don't know what she was trying to get at, but to me it sounded cryptic and a little threatening. 

She's sat next to Taehyung, a sweet, innocent smile on her face as she talks to him, giggling away. I sit back down and drink the last sip of coffee in my cup, watching them.

Taehyung turns to me, the boxy smile still wide on his face, and his eyes sparkling.

"So, Willow. What are your plans for the summer break?" He asks.

School broke up for summer yesterday, which means we all have 4 weeks off to enjoy ourselves, and do as we please.

"I don't know yet." I mumble. "What about you?" 

"He's going to be spending it with me." Hwasa intervenes, resting her head on his shoulder as she looks at me, smiling.

Taehyung giggles and nods his head shyly, looking down at the table, his cheeks turning red.

"That's cute." I smile awkwardly. I open my mouth about to say something else, until I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. 

I quickly pull it out and unlock the phone, seeing I have a text from my dad.

Dad: Willow, where are you?

I narrow my eyes and furrow my brows, hastily writing a reply.

Willow: At a cafe with some friends. Why? Is something wrong?

Dad: No, but can you come home? I need to talk to you about something.

My heart immediately begins to pick up speed, and I swallow hard.

Willow: I'll be right there

I tuck my phone back in my dress pocket and stand up. Both Taehyung and Hwasa eye me suspiciously, confusion on their faces.

"Where are you going?" Hwasa asks, pouting her lips in a sad, dramatic expression.

"I have to go, I'm sorry." I say, grabbing my bag.

"I'll see you later, Tae." I say, nodding towards him. I then look at Hwasa, and she's staring at me with a blank expression.

"It was nice to meet you." I force a smile, and I quickly walk out of the cafe, walking to my house. Luckily it's only a couple blocks away, so I should get there in about 10 minutes.

I walk inside the house and close the door, kicking my shoes off and placing my bag on the coat rack. I walk through into the living room, and my dad is sat on the couch, his phone in his hand, scrolling through some texts.

"Hey." I say, taking a seat next to him. He jumps, startled and looks at me, smiling.

"Hey, sweetie." He greets me warmly.

"What is it you wanted to talk about?" I ask, swallowing the nervous lump in my throat.

He sighs and sits forward, placing his phone on the coffee table. He takes his glasses off and puts his hands together, turning to face me.

"You know what's coming up, don't you?" He asks, his tone of voice low and morbid.

And I know exactly what he means. 

Next week is the anniversary of mom's death. I've tried to repress it in my head, because knowing I'm far from her, and not being able to mourn her properly is too much to handle.

"Yes..." I choke out, clearing my throat.

"You've been handling it amazingly well, being so far from her. I'm proud of you." He says, a smile on his face, resting his hand on my head, caressing my hair.