Red Room Hours with John Tan

Privacy

It was only a few moments before John was walking back toward you, one paper cup in each hand, the smile still on his lips from his parting remarks. He reached his chair and now he was the one standing over you, your chin and eyes tilted up at him. He was beautiful even from this angle, jawline sharp down to his smooth neck, probably dipping into curved collarbone. You blinked slowly letting the thought of how you could trace those dips with your tongue.

"I got you chai," he was holding the lidded cup out toward you, his fingers clasped around the textured sleeve. His smile wasn't as visible now, how long had he been trying to hand this drink to you while you'd been daydreaming about his collarbone?

"Perfect, thanks John, how much was it?" You grasped the cup, careful to not brush your fingertips against his, it would just be too cliché. You set it on the table nestled between your chairs and reached into your bag for your wallet, this was not a date.

John lowered himself into the matching chair and shrugged, those broad shoulders lifting and falling slowly, "Don't worry about it, you can get them next time." He smiled again and pulled his laptop from his bag, his own drink side by side with yours on the table.

"Next time?" Your voice definitely had a hitch in it, a choked confused quality that made him lift his head and stare in your direction.

"Have you read these questions, Y/N? I think it's going to take more than one discussion to get through it. I think that was the intention anyway since she's given us two weeks." He looked at you more reflectively now, he must think you're an idiot for assuming that something that could be completed in an afternoon wasn't even due for two weeks.

"Of course, that makes sense, these questions are intense to say the least," your fingers tapped on the top of your cup then you lifted it to full lips so you could break the eye contact that suddenly felt too intense. John opened his laptop and drew the sheet of questions slowly from his bag, his shining eyes scanning the list, a smile returning to his lips as he smoothed the paper across his knee. You wanted to make the first move to begin the assignment but even with the spicy warm drink coating your throat your mouth went dry.

"Long says we shouldn't interrogate each other, so I'm just going to ask you something not on the list, Y/N. I don't feel like I know much about you, where are you from?" John sounded so confident and not at all worried about the incredibly invasive list of questions you both had perched on your laps. How could he be so calm knowing you were about to ask him about his most personal thoughts.

"I'm from around here, I'd wanted to go to school out of state but my family doesn't have the means to support that, and I thought it would be easier to stay close for a while since I have an autistic brother. We all pitch in to give him the best life possible." You looked down at your computer screen, watching the cursor dart back and forth as you dragged your fingertip across the pad. You really disliked talking about your family, people immediately felt sorry for either you or your brother and that wasn't something you wanted.

"I get that," he smiled, but it seemed half hearted. He sipped his own drink then shook his head slightly, "I stick around for my family too, we're very close." Was there more to that statement, or was he about to tell you how sorry he was for your situation. You held your breath, paused your fidgeting with your laptop and looked into his eyes. He didn't add another statement, and the respect you already felt for him grew in your chest.

"Family is important for sure, so John, tell me about something you rarely tell people about your childhood?" The smile on your face felt victorious, you'd been able to transition your conversation into an assigned question. He picked up on your pleasure at what you'd done and laughed so softly it sent a shiver into your tummy.

"I see what you did there, Y/N, and I've actually really thought about these answers so I'm fully prepared to tell you that." He laughed again and looked anything but prepared, his eyes had hardened in a way and he'd looked straight ahead, giving you the view of his long side profile with edges all over.

You quickly opened a empty word doc and prepared to put down some notes so you could remember his words and write your essay later. You decided to not rush him, instead you let your eyes travel down the thick vein in his neck watching the subtle twist it took around his chin and down into the collar of his black tee.

"I had a great childhood, I don't want anything I say to make you think I didn't, but there wasn't always a lot of money to go around," he spoke each word gradually as though he was remembering something." My parents worked hard to support us, and sometimes that wasn't the way my friends were supported, and I didn't always feel like I belonged. If I said that out loud I would hurt my parents, they have a lot of pride in our family, so I don't ever say that. I always just tell people about all the things we did together and how cousins and friends were always around me, but not having certain things made me stand out at school."

You realized you hadn't taken a single note, you'd just watched the words spilling out of his mouth, hearing the sounds and shapes of them as he told you about something that was clearly painful for him. You snapped yourself out of the trance you'd let yourself fall into and quickly captured what he said in a few phrases on the screen. He had really seemed to think about these questions. Why hadn't you prepared the same?

"What about you, Y/N, I'm sure having a special needs brother created your own challenges growing up?" He said that to you in a way that held no judgement.

"Robbie is older than me by a couple years, and when I was around 11, I sometimes felt really embarrassed when my parents would bring him to my basketball games. He loved watching me but didn't always behave the way other people did. He would sometimes shout things or make sounds that I found really humiliating. When my teammates would stare I resented my parents for bringing him, even though I knew coming was always his favorite thing." Talking about that choked you up, when was the last time you'd thought about that? It wasn't something you were proud of and you felt the first crisp pricks of tears behind your lids. You felt a warm squeeze on your forearm and looked down to find John's hand resting gently there, the fingers giving a reassuring press to your arm. You followed his hand to his arm, up his shoulder to finally rest on his eyes. They were so warm and kind.

"You were a kid, don't be angry at yourself for how you felt." He squeezed again then moved his hand back to the laptop where the click of his keys told you he was adding his own notes. "Did you ever tell your parents that, or was that something you hid from your parents?" His own victorious smirk brushed across his lips, but delicately, he wasn't making fun of the serious things you'd both shared.

"They knew how I felt, I wasn't good at hiding my frustrations from them but there's definitely things I hide from them now." Your eyes widen when you realized what you'd just said out loud. Thoughts of black leather and cool metal bounced through your head, clasped wrists, bent bodies.

"Oh you do?" He wasn't typing now, just looking at your mouth, his own open a bit with his tongue at the edge of his teeth. Could he read your mind, the way he looked at you made you feel like he could.

You thought back to your dorm room, you'd been assigned a single this year. And you dragged your teeth enticingly across your bottom lip as you thought about the contents of a cardboard box that you kept beneath the bed. Dragging that box out and using your favorites across John's thighs seemed enticing seeing the darkness of his eyes, the curiosity.

"Let's just say, John, that I feel very lucky to have been given a single room this year." Your voice held flirtation and possibility.