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Math Tutor

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  Min Yoongi is the school’s resident Bad Boy™, and he takes his role very seriously; tattoos, piercings, bleach blonde hair, bad attitude—the whole nine yards. He is cocky, sour, and rude, his naturally thorny personality serving to scare away most other people and keep them at a comfortable distance—just the way he likes it.

  The only people who are able to tolerate his prickly attitude are his two childhood friends, Namjoon and Hoseok. The three of them have known each other since fourth grade and have been inseparable ever since.

  “There you are!” A familiar, overly-deep voice pulls Yoongi’s attention out of the history textbook he’d been thumbing through in boredom. Looking up, he sees Namjoon and Hoseok making their way over to him across the courtyard of the outside cafeteria. Namjoon looks slightly annoyed, but Hoseok’s face is split in a grin so wide Yoongi is afraid the boy is going to split in half. He skips along next to Namjoon, looking like a large puppy, his butt practically wiggling in excitement.

  They reach Yoongi’s otherwise empty table and plop down across from him. “Why weren’t you in geometry?” Namjoon asks, frowning at Yoongi when he only shrugs.

  “Didn’t feel like it,” is the older boy’s grumbled response, flicking his textbook closed before raising his arms over his head to stretch his tired body, his black leather jacket squeaking in protest.

  “You’re going to get expelled at this rate,” Namjoon warns him sternly, crossing his arms as he watches his friend across the table.

  “Meh,” Yoongi only shrugs again, earning an exasperated sigh from the younger boy. The blonde leans back and rakes a pale hand through his hair before reaching into his pocket to pull out his pack of cigarettes.

  “Yah!” Hoseok exclaims as Yoongi slides one out of the pack. “Remember the deal? No smoking in my presence. It’s bad for my dancer’s body.”

  Yoongi throws Hoseok a dirty look, wrinkling his nose at the dramatic way his friend’s hands slide down said “dancer’s body” seductively, his eyebrows waggling at the elder.

  “Fuck off, Hoseok, I haven’t had one all day,” Yoongi bites back bitterly. The glare he’s giving his friend would have made anyone else pale in fear, but the asshole only grins again and plucks the cigarette out of Yoongi’s fingers before he can react.

  “Yah!”

  “Do you have any idea how bad for your health these things are?” The dancer asks, holding the cigarette gingerly out at a distance as he examines it, his lips curling in disgust.

  Yoongi sighs and rolls his eyes, not in the mood for Hoseok’s bullshit. “No, I don’t actually. It’s not like you tell me every fucking time you see me, or anything like that.”

  His friend purses his lips at his scathing tone before reaching over and dropping the cigarette into the trashcan by the table. Yoongi grits his teeth in irritation as he watches it fall in. “Hoseok, I swear to fucking god, I’m—“

  “You know,” the brunette interrupts, leaning across the table and lowering his voice. Yoongi involuntarily moves closer as well. “Jimin hates smoking.”

  Yoongi immediately pulls back, cursing at the way his cheeks heat up. He’s sure they are probably tinted a light pink as he crosses his arms and glares at a giggling Hoseok. Next to him, Namjoon is trying to bite back a smile.

  “Fuck off,” Yoongi snaps, sounding even harsher than usual because of embarrassment.

  Some dumb freshman, obviously unaware of who Yoongi is, chooses that moment to approach the table and hold out a class schedule to him. The kid gives him a quick bow before straightening up and looking at him.

  “Excuse me, can you tell me where Ms. Choi’s class is?” The freshman smiles, and Yoongi narrows his eyes, feeling a surge of annoyance at the action.

  “Fuck off,” he snaps again, and the way the freshman’s expression changes almost makes him laugh. Almost. The kid’s face pales and the smile slips off his face as he stares wide eyed at Yoongi. He splutters, struggling to form a response of some sort, his cheeks beginning to turn red.

  Good, now Yoongi isn’t the only one blushing.

  Hoseok chooses that moment to save the kid. “Ignore him, he’s an asshole,” the brunette says cheerily, ignoring Yoongi’s pointed glare as he smiles at the boy. “Here, let me see your schedule.”

  As Hoseok gives the freshman directions, Namjoon adding in his input here and there, Yoongi zones back out. He can’t wait to go home and sleep.

 

 

 

  Yoongi arrives early for algebra, his last class of the day. It’s the only class he never misses, and also the only one he’s never late for. As he leans back lazily in his desk, he fiddles with the pages of his textbook, trying not to look as nervous as he feels. He is hyper alert, jumping every time the classroom door opens, glancing over quickly before returning his attention to the book, feeling annoyed when it’s not who he’s waiting for.

  Finally, the door opens again, and even before he catches the flash of bright red hair in his peripheral, he hears it; the most perfect, angelic giggle, like little tinkling bells—almost fairylike. Yoongi’s heart jumps into his throat as he forces himself to act natural.

  Yoongi causally flicks his gaze to the door, and there he is; Park Jimin.

  The tiny math nerd with startlingly red hair who makes Yoongi’s heart beat a mile a minute.

  Jimin enters the classroom, followed by his loud friend, Taehyung. The two are in the middle of an animated conversation, and Yoongi gulps when the shorter boy grins at something the brunette says, his hooded eyes pulling up into perfect little half-moons as he giggles again.

  Oh god.

  The sound is so breathy and squeaky and adorable that Yoongi has to bite his lip to keep in a coo at the noise, because Min Yoongi does not fucking coo thank you very much. He licks at the cool metal ring pierced through his bottom lip nervously.

  His whole body is alert to Jimin’s presence as the boy walks further into the classroom, making his way to the seat in front of Yoongi, one row over, giving the older the perfect view of the younger’s profile—was he sculpted by the fucking gods or something?

  Jimin is wearing one of his usual oversized sweaters, practically drowning in the dark blue material as he begins pulling out his textbook from his backpack, still chattering with Taehyung, who sits in the desk beside him. Yoongi watches as he struggles to pull out the book with his tiny hands—they’re so fucking small it hurts Yoongi’s heart—his square, black-framed glasses slipping down his straight nose as he struggles. The boy huffs in annoyance as he shoves them back up impatiently, and Yoongi has to bite back a smile.

  Class starts then, but Yoongi doesn’t even notice as he continues to gaze at Jimin, taking in his features; the flawless, tan skin that looks so smooth and warm Yoongi just wants to run his fingertips all over it. The squishy cheeks that are so chubby Yoongi wants to cry, a stark contrast to his sharp, sculpted jawline and straight, shapely nose. Pink lips, so full and plush it has the blonde boy’s heartrate picking up, are pursed slightly as Jimin concentrates on what the teacher is saying. Flame red hair, soft and fluffy, sweeps into those beautiful hooded eyes and across the glasses, making Jimin have to push them away every few seconds as he takes notes.

  Yoongi is in the middle of admiring the kid’s little hand holding the too-big pencil, when an annoyed voice catches his attention. “Am I boring you, Mr. Min?”

  His eyes immediately snap up as the rest of the class’ attention turns to him. He wouldn’t give a fuck if it weren’t for a certain half-moon gaze on his face, burning into him and making him blush uncomfortably. He purposefully keeps his gaze away from Jimin as he looks the teacher, Mr. Kim, dead in the eye.

  “I asked, am I boring you?” Mr. Kim repeats, his eyes narrowed as he watches Yoongi in irritation. The blonde boy only leans back further in his chair, stretching out his legs comfortably and lacing his fingers behind his head. He tries to ignore Jimin’s eyes burning a hole in his face.

  “Yes,” is all he replies lazily, smirking at the scandalized look that overtakes Mr. Kim’s face. Someone behind him snickers quietly.

  It looks like the man is debating whether or not to send Yoongi to the principal’s office for the nth time, but seems to finally decide against it. “You,” Mr. Kim snaps, pointing at Yoongi. “Stay after class.”

Yoongi sighs, gritting his teeth angrily. Not again, goddamn it.

  Mr. Kim continues with the lesson, and eventually everyone returns their attention to the teacher. The last gaze Yoongi feels leave him is a certain crescent-eyed one. It makes his skin prickle and his cheeks heat up.

 

 

 

 

  “Please review problems one through eight over the weekend,” Mr. Kim says as the bell rings, signaling the end of the school day. Immediately, everyone expect for Yoongi, who remains slouched in his chair, gathers up their materials and begins filing out. Yoongi considers trying to sneak out, but he attempted that once and it did not go so well, so he decides against it.

  Jimin, walking next to Taehyung as usual, is towards the rear of the flood of students trying to exit, one of the last to leave the room. Before he can though, Mr. Kim calls him back.

  “Mr. Park, you stay behind, too.”

  Yoongi blinks, sitting straight up in his chair.

  What the fuck?

  Jimin’s eyes widen as he and Taehyung share a concerned look. “Y-yes, sir,” Jimin mutters timidly, stepping back into the room, flashing Yoongi a nervous glance that has the older’s heart hammering.

  “You’re free to go, Mr. Kim,” the older Mr. Kim addresses Taehyung, who hasn’t moved from Jimin’s side yet. Taehyung blinks, looking over at the teacher in surprise.

  “Oh, right. Sorry,” he begins, shooting Jimin another worried look as he takes a step back. “I’ll meet you after?” When Jimin nods, Taehyung also shoots Yoongi a nervous look before opening the door to the room and leaving, letting it close behind him with a resounding click.

  Now it’s just the three of them, Yoongi and Mr. Kim.

  And Park Jimin.

  Fuck.

  The teacher beckons Yoongi over to his desk, and he stands up stiffly, trying not to look at Jimin, whose gaze he feels on him again. Don’t trip, don’t trip, he thinks desperately to himself as he makes his way over to the two of them.

  Stopping before Mr. Kim, not having tripped, thank god, he stands there awkwardly, trying not to look at the redheaded boy next to him. Jimin is so close to him it makes the hairs on the back of Yoongi’s neck stand up.

  “As you know, Mr. Min, you are one of the worst students in this class,” Mr. Kim begins bluntly, and Yoongi glowers down at the floor at his dismissive tone. “And you, Mr. Park,” he continues, turning to Jimin, making Yoongi’s ears prick up. “Are one of the best.”

  The awkwardness in the air is tangible, and Yoongi bites his lip. “Um, thank you, sir?” Jimin says, but it ends up sounding more like a question.

  “Mr. Park, if you’re interested, I’d like you to tutor Mr. Min." Both of their heads snap up at that.

  Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

  Yoongi’s voice suddenly seems to leave him, and he can’t help but glance over at Jimin. The boy’s eyes are wide and his mouth is hanging slightly ajar in shock. Yoongi can’t help but feel a little hurt at his reaction.

  Okay, maybe a lot hurt. Maybe the thought of Jimin being scared of him makes him want to curl up and die.

  “S-sir?” Jimin squeaks, glancing over at Yoongi at the same time the older looks at him. Their eyes connect for a second, and a flood of heat fills the older’s body as he stares into those beautiful brown eyes. Jimin blinks rapidly before looking away abruptly, and Yoongi feels his cheeks flushing again as he shuffles his feet nervously, his heart going crazy.

  “If Mr. Min doesn’t pass this class he’ll be held back a grade,” Mr. Kim says, and Yoongi blushes in embarrassment when Jimin stares at their teacher with wide eyes. “If you’re willing, I’d like you to tutor him.”

  Oh god.

  “Oh,” Jimin mutters quietly, and Yoongi waits with bated breath for the boy’s reply. Half of him wants Jimin to say no, the other half wants him to say yes.

  “I mean, if-if it’s okay with you…” Yoongi realizes Jimin is addressing him now, talking to him directly for the first time ever, and the thought makes his already frantic heart skip another beat or two.

  Yoongi looks up to see Jimin watching him with a somewhat fearful expression, as if expecting the tattooed male to cuss him out for his audacity. If it were anyone else, he probably would have. Instead, Yoongi shrugs, forcing the action to remain casual, lazy.

  “Sure,” he replies nonchalantly, and Jimin’s eyes widen. Even Mr. Kim looks taken aback as he stares at Yoongi.

  “Really?” The teacher asks, and Yoongi shrugs again, trying not to look annoyed at Mr. Kim’s disbelieving tone.

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh,” the older man blinks, straightening up. “Well, good. That’s good. I expect you to treat Mr. Park with respect,” he says, shooting Yoongi a warning look. “If I hear anything from him about you causing trouble, I’m failing you automatically.” Yoongi would scowl at him, except that he would never, ever do that to Jimin, so he keeps quiet. Jimin, on the other hand, looks distressed.

  “Mr. Kim, I don’t think that’s really necessary.” He objects quickly, waving his hands as if trying to calm the older man down. The teacher ignores him though, shooting Yoongi one last stern look before dismissing them.

 

 

 

 

  Yoongi and Jimin stand in the deserted hallway together, the awkwardness in the air making the older cringe inwardly.

  “Um, so…” Jimin begins hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck with his little hand. “D-did you want to study tomorrow? We can go to the library…if you want?” The younger regards him wearily, still probably expecting Yoongi to lash out at him in irritation. The thought makes his heart ache.

  “Yeah, that works,” Yoongi replies, gaze sweeping over the boy’s beautiful face before dropping back down to the floor as his cheeks warm up again.

  Stop acting like a little bitch, he hisses to himself in annoyance.

  “O-okay,” Jimin stutters, obviously thrown for a loop by Yoongi’s odd behavior. “How about two o’clock?” Yoongi glances up at Jimin again to see the boy looking at him strangely. He swallows heavily, forcing his gaze to remain on the boy’s face.

  “Okay.”