I'm from Germany. Our school system counts year from one to twelve regardless of which school you're currently visiting. We don't really use fancy words like senior or freshman.

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"Welcome back," Namjoon greeted the class on Monday and gestured them to sit down. "I read your texts. Most were okay, some were pretty good, and others were awful."

Junghan chuckled.

"No need to laugh, Mr. Yoon. Your bad boy aka fuckboy story isn't one of the good ones," he shut the student up. The boy frowned, and his classmates laughed, some even whistled. So he was the fuckboy of this class?

Namjoon pulled out the papers and handed them back.

To his regret, Taehyung hid his face behind his hand. He would have loved to see the expression the kid had. Instead he saw that the boy had quite large hands, and elegant at that.

"Today we'll continue the work on the protagonist. Your writing became better, but many scenes are lacking consistency. That means: the mental picture you drew of your protagonist does not match their actions. If you have a coldhearted fuckboy, he most likely will not fall in love and act all lovey-dovey the moment he sees the girl," he explained, giving Junghan a brief look from the corner of his eye, "What I want to say is, that a certain kind of person has a predetermined way of acting based on their personality. And this personality is what you're going to create today."

Some students were already scanning their texts for comments and started scribbling.

"Just one more sec!" Namjoon tried to hold the attention of the class, "Like last time, I expect you to write a scene to describe the character. And don't forget to smoothen your texts. You're not supposed to write a cooking manual. That's it."

Paper rustled and pens started scratching the very moment Namjoon stopped talking. He had been lucky to get a motivated class. With a satisfied smile, he sat in his chair and continued to accompany Mr. Gray through his extraordinary, dark life.

Half an hour later, class was interrupted by the shrill ringing of the fire alarm. Confused, Namjoon looked up from his book and looked around the room.

"Uhm, Mr. Kim? Shouldn't we be going outside?" the Park-girl asked.

Like he had been slapped in the face, Namjoon jumped up and stuffed the book into his briefcase, tugging it under his arm.

"Right. I'll collect the texts on Thursday. Now, please get up and follow your representative outside. I'll check the names."

The Park-girl turned out to be the representative. While she called everyone to attention, Namjoon grabbed the course book and stood next to the opened door, checking if all students were present while they left the room. Kim Joonyeo still was excused.

Last one to leave, of course, was Kim Taehyung.

"Guess you already know my name," the boy said with an surprisingly deep voice and lifted his gaze to meet Namjoon's eyes. For a second, which felt exceptionally awkward, they just looked at each other.

"Yeah," Namjoon finally said, his throat feeling strangely tight.

He gestured the student outside, closed the door, and followed the flood of people down the stairs and onto the athletics field. On the way down, he took a closer look at his special student. Taehyung was almost as tall as he and his posture was confident and relaxed. It did not match the impression of the shy teachers' favorite which Namjoon had grown accustomed to over the last lessons. A nerd would not look as confident, almost arrogant, as Taehyung did while gazing back over his shoulder. The looks he gave Namjoon could even be called shrewd. Confused, Namjoon tried to understand the sudden change in behavior that made the big-eyed, innocent boy turn into a kid with a crooked smile that could belong to the top social class at school. It was scary.

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Monday's lesson had been cut short by the training alarm, and now Namjoon had to wait until Thursday to get the results of his project's next level. Fortunately, teachers always were busy, so he was distracted most of the time. Today, a Tuesday, it was the after-school tutoring that kept his thoughts off the project. He had rejected the plea to do English tutoring, because it was way too much stress, so the school had made him the math and science tutor for Tuesdays and Wednesdays. And he had no problem with that.

But today was about to become different when the door opened and Kim Taehyung walked in. Five minutes late, if one might point that out.

"This is the tutoring for grade five up to seven. Grade twelve gets tutored in room 2.08," Namjoon said after he had finished explaining a problem to a student.

Taehyung slowly tilted his head, eyes completely blank. The way he held himself, one hand inside his pocket and the other at the strap of the backpack that hung over his shoulder, once again proved that he was not the innocent, nerdy boy Namjoon had pictured him as.

"So, you say that you're not smart enough to help me, Sir?" the student mocked him. Getting used to this deep, velvety voice would take Namjoon some more time than he had expected. But he would not let some student insult him.

"Is your math so bad that you can't even read the numbers on the rooms' doors?" he shot back.

"Doesn't that prove I belong here instead of room 2.08?" the younger replied without delay.

Well, shit. Namjoon had definitely lost that one. With a much too sweet smile he gestured Taehyung to sit down. If the boy continued being that cocky, Namjoon would stop pitying him for letting him write that scene over and over and start disliking him.

"What do you need help with?" he asked in an attempt to keep it professional.

"Two things," Taehyung answered, cockiness suddenly gone, replaced by big puppy eyes. "But I'd prefer to concentrate on the first one. I need some help with integral calculus. We started with the topic weeks ago, but I'm still failing."

The sincerity Namjoon was confronted with startled him. How could the boy make him question his decision to dislike him within seconds by just changing his way of acting? How could someone change that quickly anyways? Who the heck was Kim Taehyung?

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