The next morning at school, you didn't have time to stop and wonder about all the strange, grinning looks or the whispering behind hands from other staff and teachers while looking at you. You didn't need to wonder because you knew it was due to the accidental kiss yesterday. But you couldn't stop, as Jin had an emergency and asked you to watch Yoongi's class because his car had a flat on the way to work. His class is to take a test today, and it was important that it wasn't put off.

You hemmed and hawed about doing it... it was math, after all—the bane of your existence. But Jin explained that you didn't have to teach it; you just had to take roll, hand out the tests, and observe the students. Jin said the tests were in Yoongi's desk. What Yoongi didn't know was that Jin wouldn't be the one to step in for him, and that Jin had forgotten to say which drawer the tests were in.

You agree to help out as long as you don't have to do any math. Your brother was very grateful and rushed off to the emergency parent meeting about Jungkook. Seems his impulsiveness got him in trouble with the PE teacher yesterday.

You enter Yoongi's classroom, surrounded by the perfume you call 'School'. A mixture of papers, wooden desks, chalk dust, and pencil shavings, yet in this room, there is an underlying hint of citrus, tangerine if you're not mistaken.

Whereas your room is full of art supplies, and the heavy smell of oil paints, the unique scent of watercolor paints, and special paper. You decide you prefer the smell of Yoongi's classroom.

The students begin filing in and take their seats. A few had brought tangerines and lined them up on the desk. Ahh, trying to bribe their teacher. You inwardly chuckle, if only that would work. You begin to look for the test papers. Your brother said they were in a desk drawer, but never said which one, so you started opening drawers, searching. 

When you open the center drawer, more shallow than the others, you sigh with relief upon seeing the tests that are just sticking out from under the roll book. You lift them out and set them on top of the desk. You look back in the drawer for a pencil when you see a piece of paper with your name scribbled on it in various ways. You stand there staring at it, your hand hovering over it. You want to pull the paper out and read what else was on it.

It brought images of high school when you would scribble your name down, adding the last name of the boy you had a schoolgirl crush on, to see how it would look if you ever married by writing Mrs. in front of it. 

Dreams of being in love were so sweet back then. It seemed so easy, but you've learned love was far from easy. If anything, it was something sought but never actually found. Love was hurtful and crushing. 

Memories of being in your wedding gown, waiting for your father to knock on the door of the bridal dressing room to let you know it was time, time to walk down the aisle to your future. The knock at the door came, and there was your father, but your mother was beside him, wiping tears. He wasn't there to walk you down the aisle; he was there to tell you something awful. 

You run from the room to where you were to exchange vows, and you stop in the doorway as you see your best friend standing beside your fiancé, holding hands, as the officiate says, "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Suddenly, you're snapped out of your past by the classroom door slamming open as Taehyung and Jimin rushed in right as the bell rang for class.

Quickly grabbing a pencil, you close the drawer with a last glance at the sheet with your name and other words written on it.

Turning your attention to Taehyung and Jimin, you tell them, "Welcome to class, Jimin, Taehyung, you made it just in time."

They sheepishly apologize.

"Sorry, we're late, Miss Kim. It's all his fault," Taehyung says while pointing at Jimin.

"Is not!" Exclaims Jimin, glaring at Taehyung. "My clock must be broken. The alarm didn't go off, so it's the clock's fault." He gives Taehyung a glaring side eye.

"It wasn't broken, I heard it in my room!" Taehyung calls out Jimin, telling a fib. They are now face-to-face, eyeing each other.

You sigh and step between them, saying, "Both of you, go take your seats. I won't mark you late."

They both thank you and hurry to their seats as you begin to explain why you are there, "Mr. Min is going to be late. I'm to take roll." There is a collective sigh of relief heard across the classroom till you say, "And I will be handing out your tests." The sighs of relief quickly turn to moans and groans of agony. You understand their feelings, for their hopes were dashed when they thought they would get out of the test today. You remember times like that yourself.

You open the attendance ledger and begin roll call. Once that is done, you pass out the test sheets, then return to the desk and sit, prepared to keep an eye on them. A few minutes later, you catch Taehyung glancing over to the student sitting at the desk next to him, whispering.

"Mr. Kim, keep your eyes on your own paper," you reprimand him softly.

The girl sitting next to him raises her hand, and you acknowledge her with a nod. "Yes, what is it?" You ask, hoping it doesn't have anything to do with the test, because you wouldn't know how to help her, let alone be allowed to.

"Miss Kim, Taehyung was only asking how my father was. He was taken to the hospital last night."

You respond politely, considering the circumstances: "I hope your father is home and doing well."

"Yes, ma'am, he is. Thank you."

"I'm happy to hear it. Now focus on your test." You look at Taehyung and say, "That is commendable of you to ask, Tae, but next time, wait till after class and not during a test." He meekly nods before giving the girl beside him a soft smile, then he focuses on the test paper in front of him.

You look down at your watch and hide a smile. Taehyung must have a crush on the girl. You look back up, gazing around the room. Some students are nibbling on their pencil erasers. In contrast, others are busy jotting down their answers as if this were an elementary-grade test, not college algebra. 

One student is chewing on her thumbnail, and it reminds you of yourself at that age, struggling with algebra, too. Your heart goes out to her as you watch her in sympathy. She looks up and catches your eye, blushing. 

You offer her a smile of encouragement, and she smiles back, returning to her test.

The door to the classroom opens, and Yoongi enters, his hair ruffled and dirt marks on the knees of his pants. On his forehead is a smudge of what looks like tire grime. You cough to hide a giggle. He must have gotten that on his forehead when he pushed his hair out of his face. You were aware of this habit of his, usually during stress or frustration.

He hangs his jacket and approaches, placing his briefcase by the desk. He is surprised and a little shocked to see you here. His eyes dart to the center desk drawer.

You draw his attention from the desk. "Um, you might want to uh clean your face." You take your hand and gesture to your forehead as if wiping something off. Yoongi's hand goes to his forehead, and he wipes his fingers across it. Looking at his fingertips, now covered in black grime, you notice his face flush. Is he embarrassed or angry? You can't tell.

That was when he became aware of the muffled laughs and badly camouflaged snickers around the room.

"Return to your tests now." He says with such authority that every head lowers in silence, and their test-taking resumes.

"I'll be right back," Yoongi tells you as he turns and leaves the room.

He enters the faculty restroom and locks the door. Looking in the mirror, he sees how disheveled his hair is, the black streak of tire grime on his forehead, now smeared even more since touching it in the classroom. Turning on the water faucet, he grabs paper towels, runs them under the water, and washes his face. He runs his hand through his hair to regain some semblance of neatness. While doing so, all he could think about was what was in the drawer and whether you had seen it or not.

Why wasn't Jin, who agreed to stand in for him till he got there, not in the classroom? He was shocked to see you there instead.  Staring at his reflection, he asks, "What if she saw what I had written!?" The look on his reflection's face was one of dread, knowing he had to go back into the classroom, where you are.

"Why is it that every time I see her, my mind becomes a jumbled mess!?" This is his final words to the reflection of himself in the mirror before promptly returning to the classroom.

A/N: Please don't forget to vote on the chapter and leave a comment or two. It helps the algorithm with making this story more visible to others. Thank you =D