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In-ho stared out of the faculty lounge window, his fingers idly drumming against his crossed arms. The rest of the day had passed in a blur, but one student had remained firmly in his mind: Lee Hyun-bin.
The boy had been sadder than usual in his class. Too sad. He had been like that for the past week, and In-ho didn’t even do anything to embarrass him. In-ho had also noticed that the latest paper Hyun-bin submitted was barely coherent—which was significantly worse than the work he usually produced.
In-ho let out a sigh. He hated getting involved in students’ personal lives. It wasn’t his job to solve their problems—he was there to teach, not to parent. But after Hyun-bin had found out about him and Gi-hun (and actually reacted rather respectfully), In-ho paid a little more attention to the student’s well-being. More than he typically would.
The door to the faculty lounge opened, breaking him from his thoughts. Gi-hun poked his head in, a grin already forming on his face.
“Ah, there you are,” he said brightly. “You ready to head out?”
In-ho glanced at him, his expression softening just slightly. “Yes.”
He grabbed his belongings and followed Gi-hun out into the hallway. The sun was setting outside the windows, casting long shadows across the floor as they walked. It should have been a peaceful end to the day, but In-ho’s mind was still restless.
“How was your day?” Gi-hun asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Fine,” In-ho said automatically. Then, after a pause, he added, “How about yours?”
“Good,” Gi-hun said with a shrug. “One of my students asked if I had a girlfriend. I said no, of course. Technically, it wasn’t a lie.”
In-ho gave a small, distracted smile but didn’t respond.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Gi-hun said, tilting his head. “Something on your mind?”
“It’s nothing,” In-ho muttered, looking away.
“Come on, In-ho,” Gi-hun pressed, nudging him lightly. “You’ve got that furrowed brow thing going on. What is it?”
In-ho sighed, realizing there was no point in brushing him off. “It’s Lee Hyun-bin.”
“Ah,” Gi-hun said, his tone shifting to something softer. “What happened?”
“He’s been acting strange lately,” In-ho said. “Distracted, quiet. His work has been getting worse, and he looks… tired. Worn out.”
“Maybe he’s just going through a rough patch,” Gi-hun suggested. “High school isn’t exactly easy.”
“Maybe,” In-ho said, his tone skeptical. “But it feels like more than that.”
They stepped outside, the cool air brushing against their faces as they began walking toward the car. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
“Have you talked to him about it?” Gi-hun asked after a while.
“No,” In-ho admitted. “That’s not really my thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Talking to people. It isn’t my thing.”
Gi-hun frowned. “You talk to me a lot, and I’d say you do pretty well.”
“It’s different with students,” In-ho said flatly.
Gi-hun chuckled, shaking his head. “It really isn’t. You’re a good person, I know you know how to show care.”
“You’re better at this kind of thing,” In-ho insisted. “You’re approachable. Students actually like you. Maybe you should talk to him instead.”
“That’s because I’m charming,” Gi-hun joked with a wink. “But this isn’t about me. If you’re the one who noticed something’s wrong, you should be the one to talk to him.”
In-ho frowned. “What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?”
“Then you keep trying,” Gi-hun said simply. “Show them you genuinely care and eventually, they will come to you when they’re ready.”
In-ho let out a quiet sigh as they came to a stop in front of the car. “Fine. I’ll try. But if he runs out of the room crying, that’s on you.”
Gi-hun rolled his eyes. “So dramatic.” He pulled out the car keys and unlocked it. “Fine, you have a deal.”
In-ho stepped into the classroom, setting down the textbook on the desk with a thunk. The class immediately stood and bowed to greet him.
“Good morning,” In-ho said. His gaze swept the room and landed on the empty chair that Lee Hyun-bin usually sat on.
The lesson began as usual, with In-ho explaining key grammar concepts and occasionally calling on students to answer questions. His voice filled the room, calm and authoritative, but his mind kept flicking back to the empty chair.
Midway through the lesson, the door slid open with a quiet creak. All heads turned to see Hyun-bin slipping inside, his hair slightly disheveled and his uniform tie askew. He bowed deeply, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry I’m late, sir.”
In-ho glanced at him. “It’s okay,” he said simply, then turned back to the board.
The class exchanged curious looks. Normally, a late entrance like this would earn at least a sharp remark, if not a full reprimand. But In-ho didn’t say anything else, continuing the lesson as if nothing had happened.
Hyun-bin hesitated for a moment, clearly confused, before hurrying to his desk and pulling out his notebook. He avoided In-ho’s gaze for the rest of the period, his shoulders hunched as he scribbled down notes.
Alright, class dismissed,” In-ho said, closing his textbook and setting it neatly on the desk. The students immediately began packing their bags, the usual hum of chatter filling the room.
He glanced down at his watch. There were still about ten minutes left before Gi-hun would arrive to teach his history class. In-ho hesitated, his fingers tapping lightly against the desk. Finally, he made up his mind.
“Lee Hyun-bin,” he called out, his voice cutting through the noise.
The boy froze mid-motion, his bag half-zipped. “Yes, sir?”
“Can you step outside with me for a moment?” In-ho asked gently. Students looked at one another in surprise, and Hyun-bin exchanged a panicked glance with Kang Do-hyun.
“Uh, yes, sir,” said Hyun-bin. He got out of his chair and followed In-ho outside.
The hallway was quiet, the muffled sounds of other classrooms filtering through the walls. In-ho stopped a few steps away from the door, crossing his arms as he turned to face Hyun-bin. The boy stood stiffly, his hands noticeably shaking, as though In-ho had called him out for a death sentence.
In-ho frowned. He wasn’t that terrifying, was he?
For a moment, In-ho just stared at him, struggling to find the right words. The silence stretched uncomfortably, and Hyun-bin shifted his weight, clearly waiting for some kind of reprimand.
“Am I in trouble, sir?” he asked cautiously.
“No,” In-ho said quickly and a little too loudly. He closed his eyes. “I just wanted to… talk to you.”
“About what?”
In-ho swallowed. This was weird. Quite frankly, he had never done this with someone other than Gi-hun. “Your submissions have been quite… messy, and I noticed you haven’t been paying that much attention in class.”
“Oh,” Hyun-bin said, looking down at his hands. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“That’s not what I…” In-ho trailed off. Why was this so hard? “I’m not trying to scold you. I just wanted to know if something is wrong.”
Hyun-bin glanced up, clearly taken aback. “Wrong? No, sir, I’m fine.”
“You’re fine,” In-ho repeated, nodding stiffly. “Right. Fine. Great.”
“Uh… yeah,” Hyun-bin said, his eyebrows scrunching up.
“Good,” In-ho said, clapping his hands together once. “That’s… good. Just making sure.”
Another silence fell, somehow even more awkward than the last. In-ho crossed his arms again, then uncrossed them, unsure what to do with himself.
“Well,” he said finally. “You can go.”
Hyun-bin raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure—”
“Yes, yes, Mr. Seong will be here soon,” In-ho said, waving his hand towards the door.
Before Hyun-bin could respond, In-ho turned on his heel and simply walked away to his next class, leaving his textbook behind in the classroom. He realized this about halfway to his next classroom, but he couldn’t find the courage to go back and see Hyun-bin again after that encounter. It was alright. He could just text Gi-hun to get it for him.
Before Hyun-bin could respond, In-ho turned on his heel and walked away, his steps brisk and purposeful. He didn’t look back, hoping the encounter would be forgotten as quickly as it had happened.
Halfway to his next classroom, he stopped abruptly, his hand flying to his forehead. His textbook. He’d left it behind on the desk.
For a fleeting moment, he considered turning back, but the thought of facing Hyun-bin again made his stomach twist.
He let out a quiet sigh, pulling out his phone as he resumed walking. He typed out a quick message to Gi-hun:
“Left my textbook in the classroom. Can you pick it up?”
Satisfied, he pocketed his phone and kept moving, determined to forget the whole thing.
In-ho leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his tea sitting untouched beside him. He stared at the floor, replaying his conversation with Hyun-bin for what felt like the hundredth time. No matter how many angles he looked at it from, it always came back to the same thing: he’d failed.
“You’re brooding,” Gi-hun said, breaking the silence. He was sprawled across the couch nearby, a grading pen in one hand and a stack of papers balanced precariously on his lap. His voice was light, but his gaze was keen. “What happened today?”
“I talked to Lee Hyun-bin,” In-ho muttered, looking up.
“That’s nice,” Gi-hun said, setting his papers aside. He swung his legs off the couch and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I take that it didn’t go so well?
“He just shut down,” In-ho said, his voice tight.
“How so?”
“Well, I asked if something was wrong. He said no.”
There was a silence, as if Gi-hun was waiting for more. When nothing came, he carefully said, “And you just… left it at that?”
“What else was I supposed to do?” In-ho snapped, though there was no real heat behind his words. “He clearly didn’t want to talk.”
Gi-hun stood, crossing the room with a grace that always seemed to disarm In-ho no matter how many times he’d seen it. He stopped just in front of him, tilting his head with that infuriatingly soft smile that always made In-ho feel exposed.
“You’re overthinking this,” Gi-hun said, reaching out to gently tug at In-ho’s wrist. “You don’t have to fix everything in one conversation.”
“I’m not good at this,” In-ho admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t… know how to talk to him.”
“Yes, you do,” Gi-hun said, his hand slipping down to clasp In-ho’s. “You just don’t trust yourself to do it.”
In-ho stiffened at the contact, but he didn’t pull away. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is,” Gi-hun said, stepping closer. His free hand reached up to brush against In-ho’s jaw, his thumb grazing the corner of his lips. “You’re not as closed off as you like to think, In-ho. You care. And kids like Hyun-bin? They’ll see it if you let them.”
In-ho swallowed hard, his throat tightening. “I can’t find the right words.”
“You’re fluent in two languages,” Gi-hun said with a small smile. “I’m sure you can find them.”
“They see me as this coldhearted teacher that doesn’t care,” In-ho said.
“Then show him that there’s more to you than that,” Gi-hun said, “Be the teacher he needs right now. You don’t have to be perfect, just present.”
In-ho finally met his eyes, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of them. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips as he leaned slightly into Gi-hun’s touch. “You’re annoyingly good at this, you know.”
“It’s part of my charm,” Gi-hun said with a grin. He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to In-ho’s lips, his hand sliding up to rest against the back of his neck. When he pulled back, his smile had softened into something quieter, more intimate. “You’re good at this too, it just takes some practice.”
In-ho sighed, though it was more resigned than annoyed. “I’ll try again tomorrow.”
“I know you will,” Gi-hun said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze before stepping back. “And when you do, you’ll see—you’re better at this than you think.”
In-ho huffed, reaching for his now-cold tea. “You’re too optimistic.”
“And you’re too hard on yourself,” Gi-hun countered, picking up his papers again. He glanced over his shoulder with a smirk. “It’s why we work so well together.”
The next day, during lunch, In-ho walked past the classroom on his way to the faculty lounge when he noticed something unusual. Through the small glass window in the door, he saw a lone figure sitting at one of the desks.
Frowning, In-ho pushed the door open, stepping inside. “Lee Hyun-bin?”
The boy startled, sitting up straight and hastily shoving a notebook into his bag. “Yes, sir?” he said, his voice tight with panic.
“What are you doing here?” In-ho asked, his gaze narrowing. “It’s lunch break. Why aren’t you in the cafeteria?”
“I, uh…” Hyun-bin stammered, gripping his bag as if it were a shield. “I was just… reviewing.”
In-ho’s eyes flicked to the edge of the notebook peeking out of the boy’s bag. The familiar cover of the English workbook caught his attention, and he raised an eyebrow. “Let me see that.”
“No, sir, it’s fine—” Hyun-bin started, but In-ho had already reached out and plucked the notebook from his hands.
He flipped it open, his suspicions confirmed. It was the homework due later that afternoon. The boy had barely finished half of it, and the parts he had completed were riddled with messy erasures and half-formed answers.
“This is for today,” In-ho said, his tone sharper than he intended. “Why wasn’t this done last night?”
“I—” Hyun-bin started, but his voice broke. His hands trembled as he tried to grab the notebook back. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll finish it. I promise I’ll finish it.”
In-ho froze, caught off guard by the boy’s sudden panic. “I’m not—” he began, but before he could finish, Hyun-bin’s eyes welled up with tears.
“I’m sorry,” the boy said again, his voice cracking. He clenched his fists, his knuckles white. “I know it’s late, and I know it’s not good, but I just— I just couldn’t do it, okay? I tried, but I couldn’t—”
“Alright, alright,” In-ho interrupted, holding up a hand. “Calm down. Stop—” He winced as a tear slid down the boy’s cheek. “Don’t cry.”
Hyun-bin sniffed, wiping at his face with his sleeve, but the tears kept coming. “I’m sorry,” he muttered again, his voice barely audible.
In-ho stood there, completely at a loss. He’d dealt with unruly students, disrespectful students, even disruptive ones—but a crying student? This was uncharted territory.
“Okay,” In-ho said awkwardly, placing the notebook back on the desk. “Just… stop apologizing. I’m not angry.”
“You’re not?” Hyun-bin asked, his voice thick with tears. He looked up, his expression wary.
“No,” In-ho said, shaking his head. “I mean… I was frustrated, but I’m not mad at you.”
The boy stared at him, his tears slowing but his shoulders still tense. In-ho sighed, dragging a chair over and sitting down across from him. He leaned forward.
“Why couldn’t you get it done?” he asked, his voice softer now.
Hyun-bin hesitated, his fingers twisting in the hem of his shirt. “It’s… my siblings,” he said finally. “They needed help with their homework, and by the time I was done, it was so late I couldn’t keep my eyes open. And my parents… they were fighting again, so I couldn’t concentrate…”
The words tumbled out in a rush, and by the time he finished, his shoulders were shaking again.
In-ho sat silently for a moment, taking it all in. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t this.
“You should’ve told me,” he said finally.
“I didn’t think you’d care,” Hyun-bin admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re always… strict. And I’m always late. I figured you’d just think I was making excuses.”
In-ho’s chest tightened at the admission, but he kept his expression steady. “You’re right. I am strict,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care.”
Hyun-bin blinked.
In-ho shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I’m not great at this kind of thing,” he admitted. “But if you’re struggling, I’d rather you tell me than keep it to yourself. Alright?”
Hyun-bin nodded slowly, wiping at his face again.
“And as for this,” In-ho said, tapping the notebook with his finger, “we’ll figure it out. Go enjoy lunch with your friends first. You don’t have to pass this during our class later, but I do want to meet with you here at the end of the day.”
“Yes, sir,” Hyun-bin said, his voice steadier now.
In-ho stood. “Good. Now go. This is high school, a boy your age shouldn’t be skipping meals.”
“Yes, sir,” Hyun-bin said again. “Thank you, sir.”
“Alright,” In-ho said, handing the notebook back to Hyun-bin after marking a correction. “What’s this sentence supposed to mean?”
Hyun-bin hesitated, his gaze darting between the notebook and In-ho. “Um… ‘The neighbors complained about the noise?’” he said quietly in Korean, unsure.
In-ho nodded, softening his usual stern tone. “This is close, but look at the structure of your sentence. About the noise the neighbors complained is not exactly right. The subject and verb should come first, in this case.”
“Oh,” Hyun-bin mumbled, his shoulders slumping. “It should be… The neighbors complained about the noise, right?”
“That’s right,” In-ho said. “See, if you take a bit more time to think about it, you’ll get it.”
The boy nodded earnestly, flipping to the next page. “Thanks, sir.”
The door to the classroom creaked open, and both of them turned toward the sound. Gi-hun stepped inside, carrying both his and In-ho’s bag. In-ho had texted him he’d be staying in school for about an hour to help Hyun-bin.
“Well, this is unexpected,” Gi-hun said with a grin, shutting the door behind him. “In-ho, giving extra help outside of class? Should I be worried you’re going soft?”
In-ho rolled his eyes, though the faintest hint of a blush crept up his neck. “I’m helping him with his homework, not handing out free passes.”
“Sure, sure,” Gi-hun said, walking over and leaning on the desk beside them. He glanced at the open notebook. “What are you working on?”
“English homework,” Hyun-bin said. His body seemed a little less tense now that Gi-hun was in the room. In-ho couldn’t help but smile a little. Gi-hun really had such a calming effect on people. It made In-ho proud to be called his partner.
“And it’s better than what he started with,” In-ho said. He gestured to the next sentence on the page. “He’s got potential. He just needs some time.”
Hyun-bin blinked, surprised by the compliment. “Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” In-ho said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You still have a lot to improve. But I can tell you’re trying, and that counts for something.”
Gi-hun’s grin widened even more. “Wow. Praise from Mr. Hwang? Mark this day in history.”
“Stop,” In-ho muttered, his ears turning pink. “We’re working.”
“Of course, of course,” Gi-hun said, raising his hands in mock surrender. He sat down next to In-ho. “Carry on.”
In-ho ignored him and turned back to Hyun-bin. “Alright, let’s finish this last page.”
They worked through the final few sentences together, with In-ho occasionally explaining grammar rules and gently correcting mistakes. When they were done, he leaned back slightly, his expression more relaxed.
“You’re doing better than I expected,” he said. “But if you’re struggling to keep up every week, we need to fix that.”
“How?” Hyun-bin asked, his voice hesitant.
“I can tutor you after class,” In-ho said simply, though there was a flicker of hesitation in his voice. “If you’re willing to put in the effort, I’ll help you.”
Hyun-bin’s eyes widened. “You’d really do that, sir?”
“Yes,” In-ho said firmly. “But I’m not going to hold your hand through it. You’ll have to do your part.”
“Don’t worry, he’ll make you work hard,” Gi-hun interjected with a chuckle.
“If you’re done interrupting,” In-ho said, shooting him a pointed look, though it lacked any real heat, “I’m trying to have a conversation.”
Gi-hun raised his hands again, smiling. “Go on, Mr. Hwang. Don’t mind me.”
In-ho sighed, turning back to Hyun-bin. “Do you want the help or not?”
“Yes, sir,” the boy said quickly, bowing slightly. “I’d really appreciate it.”
“Alright,” In-ho said, standing and brushing off his pants. “We’ll start tomorrow after the last period. Just wait for me here, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Hyun-bin said, his smile more confident now. “Thank you.”
“We’re done for today. You may go,” In-ho said.
Hyun-bin thanked him again and packed up his things, bowing slightly before leaving the room. The sound of the door clicking shut left the two teachers alone in the quiet classroom.
You know,” Gi-hun said, his voice breaking the silence, “I’ve never seen you like this with a student before.”
“Like what?” In-ho asked.
“Like you care,” Gi-hun said gently, his lips curving into a soft smile. “Not just about whether he passes your class, but about him. About what happens to him outside of it.”
In-ho scoffed quietly, though it lacked any real sharpness. “He treated us well. When he found out about us, I mean. He’s a pretty good person, I just wanted to return the favor.”
Gi-hun studied him for a moment, his smile softening. “That’s part of it, sure. But that’s not the only reason, is it?”
In-ho didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the door. His hands slipped into his pockets as he exhaled slowly. “I see pieces of myself in him. The way he tries to hold everything together, even when it’s too much. I know what that’s like.”
Gi-hun’s expression shifted, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced with something warmer, something deeper. He reached out, resting a hand on In-ho’s arm. “And now you’re making sure he doesn’t go through it alone.”
In-ho tilted his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe.”
“Not maybe,” Gi-hun said, giving his arm a light squeeze. “You’re doing it. Whether you realize it or not.”
The room fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that came naturally to them after years of knowing each other. In-ho leaned back against the desk, his posture less rigid now, his gaze softer.
“You’re annoyingly sure of yourself,” In-ho muttered, though there was no bite in his tone.
“It’s one of my better qualities,” Gi-hun said, his grin returning.
In-ho huffed, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yet you love me for it,” Gi-hun teased. “Come on. Let’s go home.”
As they left the classroom, their steps falling into sync, In-ho’s mind wandered back to Hyun-bin. Maybe he wasn’t solving everything, but Gi-hun’s words lingered. Showing up mattered. And for now, that was enough.