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Jeongguk had to change schools when he went to live with his foster family, and Ajumeoni, in the same grumbling way she did everything for him, got his uniform secondhand from a neighborhood girl who graduated a couple years before. Jeongguk begged her to find him a boy’s uniform instead, but she snapped at him that it would be unnatural considering what would be underneath it.

“I can’t believe your aunt and uncle let you dress that way,” she said, shaking her head. “And they called themselves Christians…”

“It’s ‘cause I’m a boy,” Jeongguk mumbled angrily, looking at his feet so he doesn’t have to see the portrait of Yesu on the wall over Ajumeoni’s shoulder.

“Well, you can say you’re whatever you want, but you won’t be dressing like it while you live under my roof. Boy’s trousers wouldn’t fit you anyway,” she said, looking distastefully at the newly-developing curve of his hips. “I’d have to get them tailored, and I don’t have money for that.”

Jeongguk felt the same queasy, suffocated feeling he always did when he was reminded of how weird his body was, and all he could do to escape it was to drop the argument with Ajumeoni and go to his room, where he could cry his angry tears in privacy.

That was three days ago, and Jeongguk has had no more success changing Ajumeoni’s mind than he’s had wishing he had a different body. On the morning of his first day at the new school, he wakes up at six o’clock, ten minutes before Ajumeoni usually has breakfast on the table, but instead of getting dressed to come downstairs, he just sits in his bed and stares miserably at the uniform hanging from the back of his closet door. At 6:15, he hears Ajumeoni calling up the stairs for him, and when he doesn’t answer, hears her grumbling and going back to the kitchen. It takes him another fifteen minutes to convince himself to get out of bed and put his uniform on, and then he spends ten more standing in front of his warped, foggy mirror, hating what he sees.

The skirt is a size too small, so to get it zipped all the way he has to pull it up high around his waist, which raises the hemline to just below his midthigh. Girls who wear their skirts this short either put leggings underneath them or spend all day getting scolded by teachers and gawked at by boys. Jeongguk doesn’t have leggings.

The sweater vest, meanwhile, is worn and misshapen, the kind of ugly abomination the unpopular kid in an anime would wear. The best thing that can be said about it is that it’s loose enough not to show his tits or hug his hips. Still fucking ugly though.

Forcing back tears again, Jeongguk finally tears himself away from the mirror and pulls a battered cardboard box out from under his bed. Inside is his most prized possession, the only thing he’s proud of, really. Back when he was living with his aunt and uncle, a kid down the street got a new pair of Converse highs for his birthday, and Jeongguk asked him what he was going to do with his old ones. Throw them away, the kid said. Jeongguk checked the neighbors’ trash everyday for a week until finally he found them, shabby black hightops with the rubber cracked and the white star logo turning gray. He took them home and cleaned them the best he could with dish soap, put in a new pair of laces that he bought with loose change he found in the couch, and when he wore them for the first time, he felt good for once, like maybe when people looked at him they saw a kid whose parents at least tried to give him nice things. A kid who someone loved.

Jeongguk pulls the Converse on, ties them tight around his ankles, and stands up to look in the mirror one more time. He’ll just have to take them off when he gets to school, but at least he’s not utterly ashamed to leave the house now. To the grating sound of Ajumeoni screeching up the staircase at him to get out of bed, Jeongguk sighs and comes out of his room.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, Jeon Jeongguk?” Ajumeoni says as he plods down the stairs.

“‘m not hungry,” Jeongguk says, assuming she’s referring to how late he is for breakfast.

“What do you call this?” she demands, flicking the hem of his skirt. “Eh? Pull it down this instant!”

“It’s too small,” Jeongguk growls.

“Nonsense,” Ajumeoni says, and she takes a handful of the skirt and yanks it down. The waistband and zipper dig into Jeongguk’s hips and he yelps and jerks away, but the skirt does sit lower than it did before. “There, see? No excuses. You won’t be dressing like a slut on my watch. Don’t think I don’t know why your aunt turned you out, Jeon Jeongguk. I’ll have none of that here.”

Jeongguk’s face gets hot and his heart starts racing. She doesn’t know, she doesn’t know the first thing about what happened, he thinks furiously, though as always he wonders if he’s really the one who has it upside down.

“I’m going,” he says, walking past Ajumeoni to pick up his book bag in the entryway.

“You’ll be an hour early,” Ajumeoni says, crossing her arms.

“It’s better than being here,” Jeongguk says as he walks out of the house. He slams the door before Ajumeoni can chase after him and tell him how ungrateful he is.

Jeongguk sits on the front steps of the school building hugging his backpack in his lap until 7:30, when a teacher sees him through the glass front door and comes to open it for him.

“What are you doing here?” the teacher says, sounding confused rather than accusatory.

“I–uh, it’s my first day,” Jeongguk says, blushing and curling in on himself when he sees the teacher trying to make sense of his odd appearance.

“Did you not know school starts at eight?”

“No, I knew, I jus’...I didn’t wanna be late.”

“Well, nothing to worry about there,” says the teacher with a little smile. “Come in, I can show you where your classroom is, although I don’t know if your teacher will want to let you in yet.”

“Thank you, Seonsaengnim,” Jeongguk says, getting up hastily and bowing. He stumbles as he climbs the last step up to the door, and to keep him from falling on his face the teacher reaches out quickly to catch him by the elbow. Fear flashes through Jeongguk at the feeling of the man’s hand tightening around his arm, and it takes everything in him not to pull violently away. It’s not until the teacher has let go and turned around to lead him inside that Jeongguk realizes there was another, much guiltier feeling beneath the fear.

“Which class are you in?” says the teacher as the door swings shut behind them.

“One-ten,” Jeongguk says, hoping the teacher can’t see him shaking.

“Oh!” the teacher says. “That’s my homeroom. I’m Kim-Seonsaengnim.”

“I’m Jeon Jeongguk,” Jeongguk says, shaking Seonsaengnim’s hand and bowing back. “Please take care of me.”

“Jeongguk, huh? So you’re a boy after all,” Seonsaengnim says, cocking his head and looking from Jeongguk’s short, choppy haircut to the skirt peeking out from under his sweater vest.

“Yeah, I…my foster mother–there was this mix-up where social services told her I was a girl so she prepared this uniform for me, but now that she knows I’m a boy she’s gonna get me a new one as soon as she can.” The story comes out in a rush before Jeongguk can think about it. Every word of it is a lie, of course, but it’s better than telling a man he just met that he’s built wrong under his uniform and his foster mother doesn’t give a fuck about him.

“You don’t look too bad in the skirt, though, do you?” Seonsaengnim says with a wink. That same feeling from earlier, the fear with something else, something strange, underneath it, flares up again.

“I guess not,” Jeongguk says, feeling suddenly like there’s not enough air in the hallway to fill his lungs properly.

“Would you like me to take you to 1-10 so you can put your things away?” Seonsaengnim says, evidently unaware of the effect his offhand compliment had on Jeongguk.

“Yes, thank you, Seonsaengnim,” Jeongguk says, willing the fog out of his head. It’s nothing, he tells himself. He’s not that broken.

Seonsaengnim has to go back to his office to finish some prep work for the day, so Jeongguk waits alone in the empty classroom until the other kids start trickling in. To avoid having to look at anyone or acknowledge them whispering about him, he pulls a half-used notebook out of his backpack and hunches over it, doodling, until the bell rings. A moment later, there’s the raucous scuffling of the whole class pushing their chairs back to stand up as Kim-Seonsaengnim comes into the room.

“Good morning, Seonsaengnim,” says the class president.

“Good morning, everyone,” Seonsaengnim says. “Before we take roll, we have a new friend to introduce. Jeongguk, come up here, please.”

Jeongguk, who had been hoping Seonsaengnim wouldn’t make him do this, makes his way reluctantly down the aisle of desks, trying as discreetly as he can to tug his skirt down so it doesn’t flutter as he walks. He hears a few boys snickering and out of the corner of his eye sees one whispering something to another, smirking. Cheeks burning, he reaches the teacher’s desk and turns around to face the class, his eyes glued to the floor.

“Everyone, this is Jeon Jeongguk,” Seonsaengnim says. “Jeongguk, can you tell us where you’re from?”

“Mandeok-dong, Busan,” Jeongguk says quietly. Someone in the back row makes a rude catcall in butchered satoori.

“Choi Hyunwoo, should I call your mother and tell her you’re saying such things?” Seonsaengnim says sharply. The boy shuts up and the laughter around him dies down. Seonsaengnim takes a step closer to Jeongguk and puts his arm around his shoulder kindly. Jeongguk fully expects to panic again, is already bracing himself so he doesn’t flinch in front of everyone, but to his surprise, the panic doesn’t come. All he feels is the warmth and gentle pressure of Seonsaengnim’s hand on his shoulder.

“I know you will all do your best to make Jeongguk feel welcome in this class,” Seonsaengnim says, and half the class says halfheartedly, “Yes, Seonsaengnim.” Before he sends him back to his seat, Seonsaengnim gives Jeongguk’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze and whispers, “You’ll be okay,” and Jeongguk flashes him a small, grateful smile.

The rest of the teachers Jeongguk has that day are almost completely indifferent to him, to the point that he suspects most of them don’t know they have a new student. A few of the girls who sit near him try to talk to him once or twice, but he’s never been good at talking to kids his own age and they soon turn away awkwardly, trying not to make it look like they’re excluding him even though it’s obvious that’s what they’re doing. Jeongguk finds himself waiting desperately for eighth period, not just because it’s the end of the day but because it’s when Kim-Seonsaengnim comes back for homeroom. He doesn’t know what he expects Seonsaengnim to do, but maybe he’ll smile at him, at least. That’d be nice.

Seventh period is Korean history, and Jeongguk is relieved to find that they’re in the same place in the curriculum as his last school was. He tries his best to pay attention to the teacher’s lecture, copies down everything she writes on the board, cranes his neck to see what the kids around him are writing because it seems to be much more than he is, but after ten minutes he’s lost, awash in a jumble of meaningless words. He’s too used to this to get bothered about it, though, so he just goes back to drawing in his notebook instead. Halfway through the period, the teacher instructs the class to take out their textbooks and write down their answers to questions on such-and-such page. Jeongguk doesn’t hear her and only realizes there’s a new assignment when everyone else starts plunking their textbooks down on their desks. One of the girls who tried to talk to him earlier sees him looking bewildered and whispers the page number to him. Jeongguk turns to it, runs his eyes over the questions, and finds his mind blanker than he previously thought. Sighing, he flips back through the pages to try to find answers in the material the teacher just covered. He only gets through half the questions before the bell rings and everyone around him starts getting up and moving around, completely breaking what little focus he had. Giving up, he puts his head down on his desk and shuts his eyes.

It feels like only a few seconds later when the bell rings for the end of break and the classroom door opens. Jeongguk shakes himself awake and stands with the rest of the class to greet Kim-Seonsaengnim, and just as he hoped, Seonsaengnim catches his eye and sends him a little grin and a nod. Jeongguk ducks his head and blushes as everyone sits down again and Seonsaengnim starts making announcements about school events and reminders about upcoming exams. Once that’s out of the way, Seonsaengnim tells them to take out any classwork they haven’t finished and use the time either to work on it alone or go ask their teachers for help.

Jeongguk’s history textbook is still open in front of him, along with his notebook, so he reluctantly turns back to them. He’s busy scratching out a mistake he made earlier when he sees a pair of black Oxfords pacing up the aisle toward his desk.

Seonsaengnim leans down and lays his hand on Jeongguk’s back, between his shoulder blades. “How has your first day been?” he says quietly.

“Okay,” Jeongguk says, turning his head toward Seonsaengnim but keeping his eyes down. There’s an extra button undone at Seonsaengnim’s collar, and when he moves a faint smell of pine wafts from his skin.

“And you’re keeping up with your lessons all right?” Seonsaengnim glances down at Jeongguk’s notebook, which is mostly doodles with very little notes.

Jeongguk blushes and covers the page with his arm.

“Don’t be afraid to ask me for help if you need it, okay? That’s what I’m here for.”

“I will, Seonsaengnim.”

“Good,” Seonsaengnim says, rubbing Jeongguk’s back as he straightens up again. Jeongguk finally looks up at him as he’s turning to talk to another student, and it’s only now that he realizes what a handsome profile Seonsaengnim has.

Jeongguk’s first month at his new school is just as bad as he expects it to be. As expected, teachers stop him in the halls almost every day to scold him about his uniform. As expected, the boys in his class snicker at him and try to flip up his skirt whenever he gets up from his desk (which he avoids doing at all costs). As expected, the girls soon figure out that he’s not one of them, whatever his clothes say, and they start treating him like a virus. He sits alone at lunch every day, trying to eat well so he doesn’t look as pathetic as he feels. When midterm scores get posted in the hallway, he doesn’t give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him show up to check his rank. He knows exactly where he’ll be already.

There’s one thing only that doesn’t make him miserable, and that’s homeroom. Every morning when the bell rings, Kim-Seonsaengnim finds Jeongguk’s eyes in the back row and smiles at him, and every afternoon, he comes to check on him and remind him he can ask him for help if he needs it. Jeongguk quickly figures out that Kim-Seonsaengnim is everyone’s favorite teacher, and it’s clear from the way they giggle and whisper whenever he brushes his hair off his forehead that all the girls have a crush on him. But there’s no one else Seonsaengnim makes it a point to talk to every day, no one else who gets a flash of his handsome, charming smile every morning. It’s just Jeongguk. And that feels good.

Jeongguk does go to Seonsaengnim for help a few times, though not because he really has any hope of improving his performance in any of his classes. All he wants is to hear Seonsaengnim talk to him in his warm, soothing voice, to feel Seonsaengnim’s body close to his while he helps him find a reference in one of his textbooks, to have Seonsaengnim tell him he’s doing well and will be caught up in no time. Seonsaengnim always says stuff like that.

There are a couple of times, too, when Seonsaengnim asks Jeongguk to stay after the ending bell to talk, and even though with most teachers that would mean he was in trouble, Jeongguk’s heart flutters when he hears Kim-Seonsaengnim say his name. The first time, Seonsaengnim just asks him about his home situation–how long he’s lived with Ajuemeoni and Ajhussi, where he lived before, whether he’s still in contact with his parents. When he finds Jeongguk reluctant to talk about any of it, Seonsaengnim doesn’t press him, but he has to suspect that Jeongguk’s relationship with his foster parents is rocky or he wouldn’t be asking at all. The second time, Seonsaengnim says another teacher reported Jeongguk to him for his skirt length, expecting him to call his parents about it.

“Baek-Seonsaengnim seemed concerned that you might distract the boys in the class,” Seonsaengnim says.

“It’s not like that, Seonsaengnim!” Jeongguk says, so anxious to be believed that he almost tears up. He’s used to Ajumeoni saying that kind of thing about him, and of course his aunt kicked him out for it, but he doesn’t want Seonsaengnim thinking he’s a slut. “It’s just that it’s too small, look–” Without thinking he hikes up his shirt and sweater to show his teacher the waist of his skirt, which sits just above his belly button. As soon as he realizes what he’s doing, Jeongguk flushes in shame and shoves his tops down again. Seonsaengnim doesn’t look scandalized, though. He just gives Jeongguk a slightly amused smile and says, “I figured as much. You don’t seem like that kind of–boy.”

Jeongguk notices the familiar slip, how Seonsaengnim was about to say “girl,” and it stings a little as it always does, but the sting is soothed by the other thing Seonsaengnim said. I don’t think you’re like that, he said. Jeongguk relaxes, forgets that he just flashed his midriff at his teacher, and says, “I don’t think Ajumeoni has enough money to get me a different skirt right now–or trousers.” That’s not technically true. The Ahns have money for that kind of thing; they just don’t care to spend it on Jeongguk.

“Ah,” Seonsaengnim says, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows a little, as if he’s considering what to do. “Now, I was going to call your foster parents to ask if there was anything they could do, but I certainly wouldn’t want to embarrass them–”

“No! Please don’t call them,” Jeongguk says, knowing he sounds far too desperate again. “I’ll–I’ll figure something out, maybe I can unzip it a little or something…” He starts fidgeting around with the skirt, trying to tug it down like Ajumeoni did that first day, even though it’s uncomfortable that way. While he has his head bowed trying to see if it’s making any difference, Seonsaengnim puts his hand to Jeongguk’s arm. Jeongguk looks up, wide-eyed.

“Don’t worry about it,” Seonsaengnim says gently. “I’ll talk to your other teachers and explain the situation. They’ll understand.”

“Really?” Jeongguk says, unable to believe an adult would ever stand up for him, even Seonsaengnim.

“Really,” Seonsaengnim says with a kind smile.

Jeongguk bobs his head and thanks him, then gathers up his book bag and leaves the classroom. As he slides his feet back into his Converse to go home, he’s still thinking about that smile, and the way Seonsaengnim’s hand felt on his arm.

The next day at lunch, when Jeongguk sits down in his lonely corner to pick at his bokkeumbap and kimchi, he hears someone call his name.

“Did you come here alone?” Seonsaengnim says, standing in front of Jeongguk’s table holding a tray of cafeteria food. Jeongguk’s cheeks heat up and he giggles. This is why everyone likes Seonsaengnim; he’s not stuffy like the other teachers. “May I sit with you?”

Jeongguk nods, and Seonsaengnim takes the empty chair opposite him.

“Doesn’t look too bad today,” Seonsaengnim says, surveying the food in front of him as he picks up his chopsticks.

“It’s better than my last school,” Jeongguk says.

“Oof,” Seonsaengnim says. “Glad I don’t work there.” He takes a bite of fishcake and makes a face indicating that it passes scratch, but only barely. Shaking his head, he says, “Wish I could go back to home-cooked lunches.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Oh, I’m hopeless in the kitchen,” Seonsaengnim says, “and my wife…well. I hate to ask her.”

“Is she a career woman?”

“Hah! No, no, she and I just aren’t on the best terms right now.”

“Oh, you must be suffering,” Jeongguk says, trying to sound grown up.

“You’re sweet,” Seonsaengnim says, flashing a small, wistful smile at him. “I’m afraid her family thinks I deserve it.”

“I bet you don’t.”

“Hm, maybe,” Seonsaengnim says, and he goes quiet for a moment, then shakes his head and says, “But nevermind that, you don’t want to hear an old man’s troubles.”

“Seonsaengnim’s not an old man!”

Seonsaengnim gives a shout of laughter. “I should hang out with you more often.”

“Well, how old are you?”

“Guess.”

“Thirty?”

“Thirty-six,” Seonsaengnim says, bowing his head graciously, “but thank you for the compliment.”

They turn their attention back to their food, but Jeongguk keeps stealing glances at Seonsaengnim between bites, admiring the effortless perfection of his hair swept into a comma shape across his forehead, watching with fascination as his tongue flits out between his thick, sensuous lips to lick sauce off of them. Seonsaengnim catches him staring once and Jeongguk looks down at his tray immediately, his face burning.

“Will you eat with me again tomorrow, Seonsaengnim?” Jeongguk says when he sees that Seonsaengnim is almost finished with his lunch. He tries to make it sound like an invitation rather than a plea, but he’s not sure he succeeded. Seonsaengnim, however, doesn’t sneer, doesn’t scoff, doesn’t roll his eyes. He just smiles that kind smile of his and says, sounding like he actually means it, “I would love to.”

After that, Jeongguk and Seonsaengnim have lunch together every day, first in the cafeteria, then in the rundown courtyard just outside, then, when a spring cold snap hits, in Seonsaengnim’s office, which is always empty because the other teachers who share it with him like to go out for lunch. Seonsaengnim seems eager to get Jeongguk to open up, and Jeongguk finds him easy to talk to, easier than any grown-up he’s ever known. Seonsaengnim never asks him directly about his family or his foster parents, but as Jeongguk comes to trust him more, he starts to reveal some things, letting on that he doesn’t get along with Ajumeoni and that he left his aunt and uncle’s house under a cloud. He honestly can’t remember much about living with his dad, and he doesn’t know a thing about his mom. That stuff he still keeps hidden.

Seonsaengnim, meanwhile, tells him about the town he grew up in, what school was like back in the “old times,” and what he likes to do on the weekends when he’s free from work. Jeongguk doesn’t ask him, but he also says more about what’s going on with his wife, apologetic again for boring Jeongguk but clearly happy to have someone to talk to about it.

“She was never very flexible, even when we were younger,” Seonsaengnim says one day over their empty lunch trays. They’ve taken to trading banchan most days and finishing off each others’ entrees if one of them’s not in the mood for it. “I thought it was impressive back then, but now it’s just a pain in the ass.”

Jeongguk laughs. Seonsaengnim doesn’t bother to watch his language around him anymore.

“She’s been taking more trips to stay with her parents recently; I think one of these days she’s going to leave and not come back.”

“Do you want her to do that?”

“It would be hard to explain to my family,” Seonsaengnim says. “But it would also mean freedom.”

“What would you do? If you were free?” Jeongguk says, propping his chin up on his hand and tilting his head to the side in a way he thinks might be attractive.

“Mm, probably what any man would do,” Seonsaengnim says, leaning forward onto his elbows and giving Jeongguk a sly smile. Jeongguk’s heart starts beating way too fast and his gaze falters, eyes flitting down to his feet. Before the moment can get any more dangerous, though, Seonsaengnim slumps back in his chair and says, “Eat chicken and beer every night and wear dirty shirts to work.”

Jeongguk’s heartbeat slows again and he giggles. For the rest of the day, though, he wonders what Seonsaengnim might have said if he hadn’t looked away.

One evening a few days later, Jeongguk asks Ajumeoni if he can use her kitchen after he finishes doing the dinner dishes.

“Why?” she says, automatically suspicious.

“I wanna make gimbap.”

“Why?” Ajumeoni says again, her eyes narrowing.

“‘Cause I–I made some friends at school,” Jeongguk says, realizing now that he should have thought of a better lie ahead of time.

“By promising them gimbap?”

“No, I just thought it’d be nice, ‘cause they share snacks with me sometimes.”

“You think your gimbap’s that good?”

Jeongguk looks at the floor, shuffles his feet, and doesn’t answer.

“Fine,” Ajumeoni says after a moment. “Just mind that you clean up if you make a mess, and don’t touch my bulgogi. You can use the fried tofu in the fridge.”

“Thank you, Ajumeoni,” Jeongguk says, more respectfully than he’s ever spoken to her. She shakes her head and walks out of the kitchen, and Jeongguk sets to work.

He used to make gimbap with his aunt sometimes when he was younger, before she soured toward him, so he knows basically what to do. His knife work’s not great so the vegetables and tofu strips come out mangled, but he’s always been pretty good at rolling the seaweed and sealing it shut. The end result looks pretty good, almost like a housewife made it.

When he proudly presents the tupperware full of gimbap to Seonsaengnim the next day while they’re having lunch in his office, his teacher is stunned.

“Jeongguk, what–?” Seonsaengnim says as he pops the lid on the container.

“I made it,” Jeongguk says, almost squirming with pride. “Home-cooked lunch. I mean, it’s not cooked, but–”

Jeongguk cuts off short. Seonsaengnim has his hand over his mouth, eyebrows furrowed, and he’s staring down at the gimbap with an inscrutable expression.

“Seonsaengnim?” Jeongguk says, freezing. Was this too much? Is Seonsaengnim angry? “What’s wrong?”

Seonsaengnim closes his eyes, shakes his head, then opens them again. He takes his hand away from his mouth and looks straight at Jeongguk, and Jeongguk sees that he’s tearing up. Jeongguk is shocked. He’s never seen a man cry before.

“It’s like you knew,” Seonsaengnim says quietly, and he reaches across his desk as if to grab Jeongguk’s hand before thinking better of it. Jeongguk pushes his hand forward anyway and their fingers touch.

“Knew what?”

“My wife called last night from her parents’ house,” Seonsaengnim says, his voice heavier than Jeongguk has ever heard it. “She’s–ah. She’s not coming home this time.”

“Oh. That’s…” Jeongguk thinks back to what Seonsaengnim said about the possibility yesterday. He hadn’t seemed that bothered by the idea then, but that was before it was real. “That’s terrible.” He slides his hand another inch forward so his fingers interlace with Seonsaengnim’s.

“You’re such a sweetheart,” Seonsaengnim says, and Jeongguk’s heart jumps. Seonsaengnim turns his hand palm-up and curls his fingers to draw Jeongguk’s hand into his. Jeongguk stops breathing for a second, then Seonsaengnim sighs and gives him a weak smile. “But Ssaem’s just being dramatic. You shouldn’t worry about me.”

“What if I wanna worry about you?”

“You already made me gimbap.”

“Try some,” Jeongguk says, pushing the tupperware toward him, hoping to cheer him up. “There’s no meat in it, Ajumeoni wouldn’t let me, but I put in tofu and eomuk.”

“It looks delicious,” Seonsaengnim says, picking up one of the rolls. “You’re really too good to me, Jeongguk.”

“Seonsaengnim’s worth it,” Jeongguk mumbles, blushing.

Seonsaengnim tears into the gimbap, exclaiming vocally over how good it is. Jeongguk thinks he must be exaggerating but he doesn’t mind. He’s in heaven. Seonsaengnim holds the roll out to Jeongguk so he can try some, and Jeongguk takes a bite even though he’s almost too excited to eat. Some of the rice sticks to his lips and Seonsaengnim brushes it off.

“Hey, you know what you have now?” Jeongguk says with a flirtatious little grin, giddy enough to be reckless.

“What?” Seonsaengnim says, grinning back.

“Freedom.”

Jeongguk’s afternoon classes pass by him in a blur as he sits at his desk thinking about what happened in Seonsaengnim’s office. Nothing happened, really, nothing yet, but he knows now, knows that he’s more than just the new kid Seonsaengnim feels like he has to look after. He’s the one Seonsaengnim chose, out of all the pretty, stylish girls in 1-10 who would love to throw themselves at him if they had half a chance. If he stops to think about it for a second, he starts to question himself, to wonder why he feels like he’s competing with the girls, why he even wants a man’s attention after everything he went through with his uncle. But there’s something about the way Seonsaengnim looked at him when he reached across his desk to take his hand, like he was a person he could share something with, not just a body he could take something from. When he remembers that, all his confusion and anxiety fade away, and the only thing left is anticipation, and it doesn’t matter to Jeongguk if it makes sense or not.

For the first time since Jeongguk started at this school, Seonsaengnim doesn’t come back to his desk to check on him during afternoon homeroom. Jeongguk doesn’t worry, though, because every time they catch each other’s eyes across the classroom, Seonsaengnim’s eyes crinkle in the corners with a subtle but unmistakable smile. And when the bell rings and the other kids clear out for the day, Seonsaengnim gestures to Jeongguk to stay until the room is empty, until finally they’re alone again.

Suddenly unsure of himself, shy and embarrassed of his own eagerness, Jeongguk hangs back by his desk, packing and repacking his book bag, waiting for Seonsaengnim to make the first move. He doesn’t have to wait long. Seonsaengnim shuts the door so the kids on cleaning duty won’t interrupt them, then he calls Jeongguk’s name and jerks his chin to beckon him to the front of the room. Jeongguk goes to him, his heart pounding so hard it’s like it’s trying to break out of his chest, and as soon as he’s within arm’s reach Seonsaengnim pulls him in and wraps his arms around his waist.

“Is this what you meant?” Seonsaengnim murmurs, nuzzling Jeongguk’s cheek. Jeongguk can smell his woodsy aftershave, and he’s surprised to find how solid and muscular Seonsaengnim feels under his white dress shirt. “Freedom?”

“It’s what Seonsaengnim wants, right?” Jeongguk says. He realizes only now that he doesn’t know what he wants. No one’s ever cared what he wanted before, so he’s never really bothered to want anything.

“Oh, you have no idea, babydoll,” Seonsaengnim says, and Jeongguk doesn’t know which feels better, Seonsaengnim’s fingers delicately brushing the bangs off his forehead or getting called such a nice name.

“You–you wanna kiss me?” Jeongguk says, biting his lip in a way he hopes looks seductive instead of nervous. He’s never been kissed before–not like this, anyway. Uncle mouthing at the back of his neck when he rubbed up on him in bed definitely didn’t count.

“If you’ll let me,” Seonsaengnim says, already tilting Jeongguk’s face up with a warm hand against his cheek.

“Go ahead,” Jeongguk whispers. Seonsaengnim bends his head down and presses his lips to Jeongguk’s, pushing his hand into his thick wavy hair and stroking his thumb over his jaw as they breathe each other in for a long moment. When Seonsaengnim breaks away, Jeongguk, not ready for it to be over, cranes his neck up like a baby bird begging for food and catches him in another kiss, this time with their lips open just a bit so he can feel the wetness of Seonsaengnim’s mouth against his skin. Seonsaengnim tugs Jeongguk closer, curls his fingers into the roots of his hair, and gives a low growl of appreciation as Jeongguk opens wider to let Seonsaengnim’s tongue into his mouth. The sound makes Jeongguk shiver, maybe from fear but maybe from excitement. Something about him brings out the dangerous side in men, he knows that, so maybe he should be more careful, maybe he’s asking to get hurt again. But Seonsaengnim’s not like his uncle, he tells himself. Seonsaengnim is gentle, he’s kind, he has feelings, and he kisses like he wants Jeongguk to like it.

“You’re keen, aren’t you?” Seonsaengnim says when they finally break apart, grinning down at him and drying a drop of saliva from under Jeongguk’s lip with his finger.

“‘Cuz I really like Seonsaengnim,” Jeongguk says shyly. “I don’t just do this with anyone, I’m not a–I’m not like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Seonsaengnim says gently, caressing Jeongguk’s cheek with his knuckles. “I think you’ve just been waiting a long time for someone to treat you right.”

All at once Jeongguk feels his eyes start to sting and his vision gets blurry. Brushing tears off his eyelashes, he says, “You gonna do that, Seonsaengnim?”

“Let me kiss you again,” Seonsaengnim says by way of an answer, and Jeongguk doesn’t think, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t question. He lifts his head and wraps his arms tight around Seonsaengnim’s neck and melts into him as Seonsaengnim licks into his mouth and tugs at his lips with his teeth. It feels so hungry, so feral, that Jeongguk wonders again if he should be scared, but it’s also so good it makes him lightheaded and he can’t bring himself to resist it. Maybe he is a slut, he thinks, but it’s only a moment before even that thought is swept out of his mind.

Soon, Jeongguk doesn’t know how, Seonsaengnim is sitting in a desk chair with Jeongguk straddling his lap, his bare legs spread on either side of Seonsaengnim’s hips and his feet dangling a few centimeters off the floor. He wraps his ankles around the back legs of the chair to pull himself closer to Seonsaengnim, and for the first time he feels the hard bulge in the front of his teacher’s trousers. It’s the kind of thing he has nightmares about, and even now it makes him sick, but before he can wonder what he should do, Seonsaengnim stops kissing him, sits up straighter, and lets Jeongguk slide down his thighs a little, putting some space between their crotches.

“Whew, hang on, baby, Ssaem’s getting kinda worked up,” he says, blinking and shaking his head. “Let’s take a breather, I don’t want to rush you into anything.”

If Jeongguk had any remaining doubt that Seonsaengnim was different from other men, it’s gone now. The sickly feeling vanishes and in its place there’s just a glowing, throbbing warmth that starts deep in his belly and spreads up all the way into his throat, choking him up and making his eyes foggy again.

“It’s okay, Seonsaengnim, ‘m not scared,” he says, and he puts his hands to Seonsaengnim’s face, stroking his fingers experimentally through his beautifully arranged hair. “I think…someone should treat you right.” It doesn’t come out as smooth as he wants it to, the words aren’t quite right, but the smile on Seonsaengnim’s face tells him it hit home.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” Seonsaengnim says, rubbing his cheek against Jeongguk’s hand. “Just perfect.”

“Lemme help?” Jeongguk says before he can stop himself, reaching down and brushing his fingertips over Seonsaengnim’s bulge.

“Do you know how?”

He does and wishes he didn’t, but his teacher doesn’t have to know that.

“Seonsaengnim can teach me,” he says with a babyish inflection that makes Seonsaengnim growl again. He unfastens Seonsaengnim’s trousers and wriggles his fingers into the fabric of his underwear, searching for the hole at the front. When he finds it, he burrows in until he has his hand around Seonsaengnim’s hard, hot cock, and he tugs it out, a little shocked by how thick it feels in his palm. He must make a face because Seonsaengnim chortles and says, “Bigger than you expected?”

“Yeah.”

“Here, hold it down at the base,” Seonsaengnim says, guiding Jeongguk’s hand lower and wrapping his own hand around it. “Squeeze it a little and then pull up. Mmm, yeah, just like that.”

Jeongguk does it another couple times, then slides his hand up over the tip to collect the precum that’s started to spill out. When he curls his fingers back around the shaft, his palm slides down it much smoother, and when he brings his fist up again, he twists it a little, getting a deep groan out of Seonsaengnim.

“You’re a natural, babydoll,” he says, and he pulls Jeongguk’s head down so he can kiss him again, wetter and sloppier than before. Jeongguk keeps going, letting his hand drift down momentarily to play with Seonsaengnim’s balls still buried in his trousers. “Fuck.”

“Has it been a long time, Seonsaengnim?” Jeongguk murmurs, enjoying seeing his teacher come apart in his hands. He never felt powerful like this with his uncle, never felt like he was in control like this. It’s a rush to feel it now, to be able to decide what and how much he gives, rather than have it taken from him.

“Too long, babydoll,” Seonsangnim says as he presses his nose into Jeongguk’s neck and kisses his collarbone. “It’s so good, baby, you’re so good.”

Jeongguk beams and moves his hand a little faster, and he feels one of Seonsaengnim’s hands start to push up under the hem of his sweater.

“Well, what do you know?” Seonsaengnim says when his fingers encounter the swell of Jeongguk’s chest.

“What?” Jeongguk says, his grip on Seonsaengnim’s cock slackening for a moment.

“You have tits under here.”

“Yeah, but–I’m still a boy, I promise,” Jeongguk says hastily. “You don’t have to touch ‘em if you think it’s weird.”

“Weird?” Seonsaengnim says, using his free hand to get Jeongguk to go back to jerking him off. “Not at all, baby, I love it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Seonsaengnim says, then he looks down at Jeongguk’s skirt rucked up across his splayed thighs. “And what do you have down there?”

“Seonsaengnim can feel it,” Jeongguk says, pulling his skirt up a little more, emboldened by Seonsaengnim’s enthusiasm for his other girl features. Seonsaengnim slips his hand under the skirt and cups his crotch, and it’s only then that Jeongguk realizes how wet he’s gotten.

“Fuck,” Seonsaengnim says under his breath. “I bet you’re a virgin, aren’t you, babydoll?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk says. “I’ve never even put my fingers in.” It’s true, for what it’s worth. Despite all his uncle did to him, he never actually fucked him. Jeongguk still has that at least.

“So Seonsaengnim gets you first, huh?”

“Yeah, Seonsaengnim gets me first,” Jeongguk echoes without thinking, then when he realizes what that means, he adds anxiously, “but not–I mean, I dunno if I’m ready for that–”

“Of course not, babydoll, not yet,” Seonsaengnim says soothingly. He pulls his hand out from under Jeongguk’s skirt and starts pulling up on his sweater instead. “Can I see those pretty tits, though?”

Jeongguk nods and helps Seonsaengnim yank the sweater up and over his head. He drops it on the floor, then takes Seonsaengnim’s dick in his hand again, stroking it slowly now and scarcely breathing as Seonsaengnim unbuttons the front of his shirt. When it’s open Seonsaengnim pushes up his cheap, flimsy bra so one of his little breasts slips out, and he takes the whole thing in his palm and gives it a light squeeze. Jeongguk lets out a little moan and tightens his fist around Seonsaengnim’s cock. He feels him throb in his hand and wonders if he’s close.

“You’re gorgeous, babydoll, so soft and sexy,” Seonsaengnim says, and he pulls Jeongguk forward to take his hard little nipple into his mouth.

“Ah, Seonsaengnim!” Jeongguk says when Seonsaengnim runs his tongue over it. He leans his forehead against Seonsaengnim’s shoulder and starts pumping his hand faster, a little feverish now. Seonsaengnim groans and shoves his hand up under the other cup of Jeongguk’s bra.

“Keep going, baby, just like that,” Seonsaengnim mutters against Jeongguk’s skin.

“Is Seonsaengnim gonna come?” Jeongguk says.

“Yeah, baby, your hands are so good.”

Jeongguk’s heart blazes and he says, without thinking, “Wanna feel my mouth also?”

Seonsaengnim pulls off of his nipple at once and looks up at him in disbelief.

“I’ll do it, I will,” Jeongguk says, already sliding himself backward off Seonsaengnim’s lap.

“Oh my god, baby,” Seonsaengnim says as Jeongguk folds himself onto his knees between his teacher’s legs.

Jeongguk has done this before too, and he always hated it, but now with Seonsaengnim looking down at him in amazement, as if this is the best thing that’s happened to him in years, he can barely hold himself back. Diving forward, he sinks his mouth down on Seonsaengnim’s cock, not all the way to his throat but deep enough that Seonsaengnim gasps and curses again. He swirls his tongue around the tip, sucks hard, and bobs his head a few times so the tight ring of his lips slides up and down Seonsaengnim’s cock, and a moment later he feels the hot, slimy spurt of Seonsaengnim’s cum hit his tongue. Jeongguk stays on him another few seconds, sucking gently and stroking the base with his hand, then he pulls off and swallows. That he’s never done before. He looks up at Seonsaengnim and licks his lips prettily.

“Fuck, get back up here,” Seonsaengnim says, practically dragging Jeongguk into his lap and smashing their mouths together again.

“Was it good?” Jeongguk says breathlessly between kisses.

“Never had it better, baby,” Seonsaengnim says. “Where does a good girl like you learn that kind of thing?”

“Just wanted to do something nice for Seonsaengnim,” Jeongguk says, bursting with pride and scarcely noticing what Seonsaengnim called him. “‘Cuz you’ve been so nice to me.”

“You really are too sweet, babydoll,” Seonsaengnim says, playing with the sweat-damp hair over Jeongguk’s ear. Jeongguk ducks his head and bites his lip, smiling, and Seonsaengnim pulls him against his chest and wraps his arms snugly around him. Jeongguk closes his eyes and sighs happily, too blissed out to realize how strange it is that he actually feels safe like this, pressed up against a man’s body with a naked dick between them.

They stay like that for a minute or two, Jeongguk listening to Seonsaengnim’s heartbeat gradually slowing, Seonsaengnim nuzzling the crown of his head and tenderly rubbing his back. At last Jeongguk pulls himself away from Seonsaengnim and says reluctantly, “I gotta go home soon. Ajumeoni yells at me if I miss dinner.”

“Imagine getting angry at a precious thing like you,” Seonsaengnim says, brushing through the hair on Jeongguk’s forehead with his fingers to make it look less like he just sucked his teacher’s dick on the classroom floor.

“No one else thinks I’m precious,” Jeongguk mumbles as he pushes his bra back into place and buttons up his shirt.

“Well,” Seonsaengnim says, “they don’t know what they’re missing, do they?”

Jeongguk bites his lip and smiles. He’s had dreams before about his dad, sober at last, coming to take him home with him, about his aunt loving him again the way she seemed to when he was younger, even about Ajumeoni softening toward him and treating him a little more like a son. None of that’s ever going to happen, he knows. But Seonsaengnim–funny, charming, handsome, kind Seonsaengnim–thinks he’s precious, and even though he’s probably the only one in the whole entire world who does, it actually feels like enough.