Chapter Text
Truth be told, it wasn’t that Gunwook had liked his English teacher from the very first class the summer before starting university. It was true that Mr. Seok—as he had to address him back then—was the only one of his teachers who didn’t seem like a bitter old man. He was cheerful and oddly brilliant, and although he looked younger than he actually was, he somehow made an effort to appear more serious. In fact, Gunwook figured Seok Matthew was only about three years older than him, but since he was a native English speaker, he assumed it had been much easier for him to get certified to teach at such a young age.
The first time Mr. Seok was his teacher at the institute, in Basic Level 3, Gunwook had just turned eighteen. Back then, he was in a long-distance relationship, caught up in trying to solve the difficulties that had begun to surface from not being in the same place as his boyfriend of six months, whom he’d left behind in his hometown with the hope of seeing him again during college break. That’s why, when Mr. Seok walked into the classroom that Monday morning for their first session—wearing tailored trousers and a fully buttoned long-sleeved shirt—although he was good-looking (something not even the old square glasses he wore could hide), his presence didn’t spark any particularly notable reaction in Gunwook. He was just another teacher he wouldn’t see again once that level of the course was over.
So, at least during that month of classes, Mr. Seok’s image didn’t haunt his mind constantly. Maybe because Gunwook had someone else to think about (the boyfriend who expected his daily call and to whom he owed loyalty); or maybe because he was already beginning to realize how hard it was to maintain a real and lasting connection with someone who lived miles away and whom he’d only see twice a year…
And just as one day he had shown up to class, after four weeks Seok Matthew said goodbye to those students who would move on from yet another basic-level course without leaving much of a mark—or taking much with them, while Gunwook was in the middle of a heated text argument with the person who, after two more months of agony, would become his ex.
That’s why, when a year later he spotted him in the middle of the dance floor at “The Urban” the city’s most popular gay nightclub, Gunwook had to rub his eyes and clean his glasses several times to be sure that the person swaying so sensually with a much taller and muscular man was, in fact, Mr. Seok. At first, his face seemed familiar. Gunwook tried harder to remember where he might know him from until his memory went straight to last summer’s English course. Now he wasn’t wearing those old fashion glasses that used to cover his face, which allowed Gunwook to appreciate his delicate features more clearly, magnified by the neon lights of the dance floor.
The electric green slid along the smooth line of his jaw, while the vibrant purple lingered on his high cheekbones. His almond-shaped, gleaming eyes seemed like liquid mirrors, catching every flicker of blue. His smile, wide and genuine, took on a hypnotic quality under the magenta glow. His skin, smooth and radiant, reflected the colors with an almost unreal naturalness, and his hair, framed by flashes of red and violet, seemed to move in time with the music. Under that play of lights, his face ceased to be merely youthful and became magnetic, an impossible point of attraction to ignore. Wow… that smile.
Gone were the outdated, dark suits of the classroom—Mr. Seok now wore black leather pants that clung to his figure like a second skin and a shimmering silver crop top, which lifted with each dance move to reveal a firm, sculpted abdomen and what looked like a cherry blossom tree tattoo on one side. His hands, sometimes raised to emphasize the tension in his arms, sometimes grazing his own skin, were an invitation—as if his body knew the language of desire and spoke it effortlessly. Sweat glistened faintly on his collarbone. Wow, again.
Gunwook had discovered his bisexuality before finishing high school and since then believed he had developed the ability to sense when someone else was part of the community. But with Mr. Seok, none of his alarms had gone off—no gesture, attitude, or clue had ever made him think his English teacher might also be attracted to men. So now, watching him from the corner of the club, Gunwook thought about how absolutely blind he had been.
When the song ended, Mr. Seok and his companion returned to a table slightly away from the center and began kissing without a care in the world. Gunwook felt like some kind of voyeur, unable to take his eyes off the scene. He had left his group of friends behind to follow the couple and hide behind one of the club’s columns, just to watch how things unfolded. After a while, as the kisses clearly grew more passionate, Mr. Seok and his… boyfriend? held hands and finally left the club. Before stepping out, the tall guy gave him his sweater to wear on the way to God knows where… though Gunwook could imagine it.
That night, Gunwook made no move; after a couple of drinks, he went home, thinking only of the discovery he had made, unable to forget his professor’s sensual movements and that immense smile that was never meant for him.
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦
Gunwook completed the basic level of English in 18 months (since each level lasts a month, it’s supposed to be finished in twelve), taking classes intermittently, which didn’t allow him to make any friends. When he started the intermediate level, despite the weight of his university workload, he made a promise to himself not to take any more breaks, determined to finish the course without dragging it out like the previous one. In Intermediate 2, he met the person who would become his friend and confidant—Kim Gyuvin, who, despite being a year older, had the humor and energy of a schoolboy.
The day after his discovery, Gunwook felt the need to get it out of his system, so he thought about telling Gyuvin everything. Although he didn’t love the idea of discussing someone else’s sexuality without their permission, he couldn’t keep that information to himself—especially given the impact it had had on him. So, when he saw Gyuvin arrive at class that afternoon, he quickly pulled him into a corner of the hallway and told him what he had witnessed, omitting the name of the teacher in question.
“At the very least, you should tell me if this mystery man has taught both of us,” Gyuvin teased, nudging Gunwook with his elbow.
“He taught me, obviously. I have no clue if he taught you too, before we met,” Gunwook replied.
“Great. So, it’s not one of the ancient relics from the last four terms,” Gyuvin said, visibly relieved.
“That’s right. But I’m not telling you who it is. Outing someone without their consent isn’t right,” Gunwook snapped.
“Relax, I’m not asking you to break your sacred gay vow. His secret’s safe with me. Just spill—do you like him?”
He didn’t have an answer to that question. The image of Mr. Seok dancing sensually—in a setting far removed from the academic world—had kept him awake for the past two nights. He was still shaken. It had given him a completely different view of his teacher, and he wasn’t sure what exactly it awakened inside him. What he did know was that he wasn’t ready to see him again—at least not in a classroom setting. “I don’t know… but I definitely don’t want to run into him in the hallways here.”
“Then all that’s left is to pray he never teaches you again, because judging by how you look right now, you’re clearly not over the shock.”
They finished the final week of that term without incident, passed the course, and went together to enroll in the next one—keeping their promise to continue without breaks. Gunwook was learning to manage his time better between college and the English institute; assignments and coursework kept his mind busy, pushing away (at least for longer stretches) the memory of that smile. That lingering smile that had somehow carved out a space in his thoughts.
But apparently, the academic gods hadn’t heard his prayers—or maybe his pleas hadn’t been strong enough to prevent what would happen on the Monday that marked the start of Intermediate 7…
The pair of friends were chatting cheerfully about the new song from their favorite group when he walked into the classroom. Black tailored trousers, long-sleeved plaid shirt buttoned all the way to the collar, square glasses. Mr. Seok Matthew in the flesh.
Gunwook’s eyes widened as much as his mouth, which he had to cover with his hand to keep from screaming. Noticing this, Gyuvin’s gaze immediately shifted from his friend to the source of his shock, then back to Gunwook—whose ears were now a vivid shade of red. Internally, Gunwook thanked the universe for placing him in the last row of the classroom.
His face—and that reaction—gave him away. In that moment, Gyuvin knew exactly who his friend’s secret crush was. He was standing right in front of them. A mischievous grin crept across Gyuvin’s face.
Meanwhile, Gunwook remained frozen. Spending an hour and a half in the same room as Mr. Seok without having a full-blown nervous breakdown was going to be hard enough. Surviving an entire month like this? Impossible. His brain began to devise several ways to leave the classroom and never come back—he could probably suspend the course and reschedule it for the following month with the right excuse. Something medical. Something urgent. Anything.
“You never told me you liked them shorter than you, Wook,” Gyuvin whispered in his ear.
Now it wasn’t just his ears—Gunwook’s entire face began to flush, so much that Gyuvin had to stifle a laugh, afraid their teacher might notice the scene unfolding at the back of the classroom at any moment.
Before he could soothe his friend, Mr. Seok spoke: “Good afternoon, students. My name is Matthew Seok, you can call me Mr. Seok. I see some familiar faces—I'm glad you're continuing the course at the same institute.” A genuine smile appeared on his face, though it wasn’t directed at anyone in particular, and he continued. “My rules are simple: no phones in class, interaction among you only during group work, and if you have questions, don’t hesitate to ask me. Alright, we’ll begin Intermediate Level 7. Open your books to page 65.”
“So, the Canadian teacher is the mystery man. I’d heard he had a good method, but he never taught me,” Gyuvin said quickly as he pulled his book from his backpack, watching the still motionless and bewildered Gunwook with anticipation.
Gunwook knew that any possible escape plan would inevitably involve speaking with Mr. Seok—something he was absolutely not prepared for, considering he couldn’t even form a response to his friend. That´s why he decided to stay for that one class and vanish starting the next day. He’d have the whole night to figure out how.
“Wook, wake up. Open your book, at least to pretend,” Gyuvin urged him.
Mr. Seok began moving around the classroom, speaking calmly about quantifiers. Although Gunwook usually had no trouble focusing and was considered a good student, suddenly all the English he had learned up to that point seemed to vanish. He couldn’t understand a single word his teacher was saying. He couldn’t follow the class either—his brain refused to think academically.
While the lesson went on normally, at least for everyone else, Gunwook kept glancing at the clock, silently begging time to fly.
“Alright, now you’ll practice in pairs using the topic on page 66. Try to use the quantifiers you’ve just learned. I’ll be walking around to listen and join in,” Mr. Seok instructed. Gyuvin immediately turned to Gunwook to start the exercise, but found his friend lost in thought.
“Come on, Wook, you’re the star student. At least try reading the examples in the book.”
“I can’t. I don’t remember anything. My mind’s blank,” Gunwook replied in Korean.
Gyuvin frowned. He was about to respond when a voice cut him.
“Did I just hear someone not speaking English in my class?” said Mr. Seok from the other side of the room. “I’ll be heading over there shortly to clear up any confusion.”
“If you don’t start speaking now, there’s a higher chance he’ll come over. So, for your sake and mine, read the examples from the book,” Gyuvin whishpered, his tone calm but firm—far from his usual playful self. He knew his friend didn’t need more jokes right now, but someone to tell him exactly what to do.
“So, there are many students in the classroom, uh?” Gyuvin began. “How many books do you carry in your backpack?”
Gunwook started reading the same question from the book and answered, not very confidently, “Few.”
“Try saying a few instead of few—it’s more positive,” Mr. Seok corrected, standing right beside him. Then he leaned in, resting his arms on Gunwook’s desk—who now looked pale—waiting for his student’s response.
Gyuvin, in an attempt to rescue his friend, jumped in. “So, you're carrying a few books, even though you have plenty of space.”
Gunwook’s mouth felt dry. Why was his teacher so close? For the first time, he noticed Mr. Seok’s fresh scent. Why did it feel like he was waiting for his answer? Gunwook felt his gaze, steady and direct—but he couldn’t meet his eyes. What was Gyuvin saying? His friend was mouthing something, lips moving slowly, hoping he could read his lips, but all that remained was silence.
“Maybe he didn’t have many options, right?” Mr. Seok replied to Gyuvin, then added, “Try to stay focused next time, Mr. Park.” And then he moved on to the next pair of students.
At the institute, students didn’t introduce themselves at the start of each course. Since it only lasted a month, they were too short, and the teachers showed little interest in getting to know their students—beyond a few names they would later confirm while calling roll at random. So Gunwook couldn’t understand how Mr. Seok remembered his last name.
The bell rang, marking the end of class, and Gunwook had never felt more grateful.
“You’ve got to work on those reflexes, buddy, or you won’t survive the coming weeks,” said Gyuvin as he walked out of the classroom.
“You’re crazy if you think I’m staying in this course,” Gunwook replied, trying to snap back to reality while watching Mr. Seok disappear into the crowd of students.
“What? So, you’re just jumping ship like that? You’re leaving me to fend for myself?” his friend exclaimed in disbelief.
“You just figured out who the ‘mysterious’ professor is without me saying a word—just by watching how I reacted. Do you really think I can survive another class with him? Forget it.”
“Come on, you weren’t that bad,” Gyuvin lied. “I think you’ll get used to his presence after a couple more classes.”
“I doubt it.” Gunwook was only just coming to terms with the idea of having a *tiny* crush on one of his professors. He hadn’t imagined he’d be thrown into a direct encounter with the very man who’d been haunting his thoughts lately.
“Tomorrow morning I’ll request my suspension so they can reschedule me for next month,” he finally said.
“You promised not to postpone any more courses, Wook,” Gyuvin replied, wearing a serious expression Gunwook had never seen before. “I’m not the most responsible person around, but I know I have to finish this level within the time assigned. I thought you were committed to that too.”
And he was—until that day.