Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The sluttiest thing a man could wear was a brain.

Not a black plain t-shirt, not white shirt with sleeves folded to elbows with an expensive wrist watch, not some stupid good looking face—just brains. Sunoo had an obscene thing for them. He wanted to fuck synapses, wanted to peel back skulls and lick at the thoughts inside. 

Nerds made him wet. But not shy, clumsy types with out of style glasses. Sunoo wanted the dangerous kind. The arrogant ones, the sharp tongues, the ones who knew their minds were the sharpest tool in the box. He wanted to kneel at the altar of it and, in the same breath, tear it down until all that brilliance choked on his name.

But Sunoo didn't really kneel except for blowjobs. He didn't worship. He had no patience for men who thought their intellect gave them the right to leash him. Control was a game he only played when he was the one pulling strings. What got him truly high, what had him pressing his legs together and biting back moans, was to watch a man who lived in libraries forget his language because Sunoo spread his legs just right. 

There was nothing sweeter than watching someone smarter than god (or God with capital G on the days Sunoo was running out of options of men to kneel for) (which was concerning because he was closer to God than getting dicked down) forget their own name because of him.

Sunoo's face was the kind of pretty that made people coddle him and call him fragile, like a delicate petal that had to be sheltered from the world's ugliness. It made him want to laugh, or spit in their mouths. Because the truth was, Sunoo didn't need protecting. He could stand, bite, and chew on his own. Still, he wasn't above weaponizing the misguided illusion. A strong man learned to survive by playing weak, and Sunoo had perfected the art.

You would see a guy like Sunoo and assume he had an active sex life. And maybe you'd be right. At his age, everyone was clawing at experiences as far as bad decisions could take them, stumbling headfirst into mistakes just to say they'd lived through them. Boundaries were boundless, recklessness was currency, and regret was something he worried about later.

Sunoo crossed his arms. The wind rustled his hair. A half lit cigarette was burning between his fingers. "It's not really the case."

He looked towards you. 

"Yeah, I'm talking to you, sitting there, probably in your pajamas or on your lunch break, scrolling through this story."

He stubbed out the cigarette against the brick wall behind him.

"The part where you've been reading for the past few minutes about how I've got this whole thing for nerdy guys." Sunoo smirked. "Whoever's writing this was really into obscene descriptions. That's cute. But sadly, this story isn't about me fucking as many guys I want."

Sunoo was not necessarily sexual. He was perpetually but conceptually horny. That meant he would not fuck the first thing that breathed in his direction but he would jerk off at the thought of them. He liked the idea of people more than the weight of them. He could imagine a thousand filthy ways to ruin someone in his head, and then lose all interest the moment they sat across from him in real life. The fantasy excited him, reality got him bored. As the old tales went: men were always better as a concept.

He went on a lot of first dates. Rarely second dates. He was self-aware enough to know the guys weren't the problem, it was him.

Sunoo caught the ick too easily. Like an ugly laugh, clammy hands, heavy breathing, referring to their mother as mommy, tiny things like that made his skin crawl. Yet, he could overlook the catastrophic red flags such as: men with a history of cheating, men who still texted their ex, men who said one thing and did another. He was allergic to the small flaws but tolerant of the big ones.

It was like his system ran on extremes. Attraction and disgust, lust and repulsion, obsession and apathy. Everything in Sunoo's world burned or froze. Moderation never held his attention. Anything safe made him feel unsafe.

A pair of cold hands slapped over his eyes. Sunoo recognized the sweet, fruity, designer scent.

"Guess who!"

"Oh my god, is that you, my least favorite person?"

"Excuse me?" Wonyoung pulled his ear hard enough to make him yelp. "How fucking dare you."

Sunoo was laughing even as he tried to dodge her grip. Jungwon crashed into both their backs, nearly sending them all stumbling. "Hey losers. Wanna hear about the most legendary semester break of all time?"

Wonyoung covered her ears and profusely shook her head. "Nope. No. I refuse to hear about your sex life"

"Did you finally convince Jay hyung to bottom?" Sunoo asked. "Because I was praying for it to happen."

"We tried that, but it didn't really work. Still have to… train him. Anyway!" Jungwon shrugged. "Something even better happened."

He hopped in front of them and thrust his hand up. The silver ring on his finger caught the morning light and it sparkled.

Both Sunoo and Wonyoung's jaws hit the pavement.

"Oh my gosh…" Wonyoung grabbed his hand, turning it to gawk at the ring. "Is this…? Wait, hold up. Does this mean I get to plan your bachelor party?"

"Pretty sure I'd be the Best Man, actually," Sunoo interjected, pointing at himself. "I've known this disaster longer."

"Times are changing, oppa. Best Woman is totally a thing now."

"Since when?"

"Since now. I can't believe I am more woke than you."

Sunoo leaned in to get a better look at the ring. "Wonyoung, what are we looking at here?"

"It's Pomellato, so definitely 18k gold... I'd say a few grand? Good taste, but not an engagement kind of money yet."

"Guys, chill. It's a promise ring." Jungwon rolled his eyes but couldn't stop grinning. "Jay said I looked 'too available' apparently, and he wanted to make sure random people stop hitting on me. His words, not mine."

"Dating an older guy really is something else, huh?" Sunoo shook his head. "I wonder if I should try an older guy too?"

"Hyung, he's literally only two years older than me."

"You always talk and talk about getting a guy but it never happens," Wonyoung added.

Jungwon's eyes narrowed dangerously at Sunoo. "Wait… You went completely MIA this break. Like, radio silence for three weeks. No stories, no nothing. What's up with that?"

"Nothing. I've just been focusing on myself."

"Bullshit."

"Complete bullshit," Wonyoung agreed. "You were seeing someone over break didn't you?"

"I wish I was joking but I did go on a few dates. I wouldn't say that I don't want men, I did, it's just that every man I met gave me the ick. None worked out. So nothing happened."

"I can't believe you're having a hard time looking for men with—" Jungwon grabbed Sunoo's chin, "—this face!"

"Please." Sunoo pushed his hand away. "It's not that no one wants me. There's no one that I want."

"What about Lee Heeseung?"

"I don't know. I just don't see Lee Heeseung like that."

"I thought it's about who makes you horny?"

"Apparently even that's not enough anymore. I think I'm evolving backwards. Soon I'll be too picky to even look at people."

Wonyoung scrunched her face. "Just what is wrong with you?"

"Everything," Sunoo jested. "Except for my fashion sense. That's still flawless."

"So, no romance for you this semester?"

"I don't know," Sunoo mused. "You know how some people lose their virginity? I feel like I'm gaining it back. Like, I'm becoming more virginal with every failed date. It's actually impressive. I may lose my virginity for the second time."

Wonyoung burst out laughing, leaning her head against his shoulder as they walked toward the building. Jungwon had gotten distracted again, going on tangents about slipping at a pool party to his Jay hyung's newest hyperfixation.

These two idiots were probably the only people on earth who could put up with Sunoo's walk of contradictions. They'd seen him through everything. From his cringey two-block haircut and skinny jeans phase to his dramatic evolution into someone who actually understood what looked good on him versus what was just trendy.

Sunoo was a third-year Theatre & Film major who'd always known he was meant for something more than being background extra #3. He'd gotten heads turning ever since he was little, others believe he was a natural charmer. He'd believed it to be true, yet, at the same time he was hypercritical of himself. 

Growing up in a family where everyone was harshly self-important and undermined you all the time, made you thirst for validation. Acknowledgement was so scarce it had left him with standards so impossibly high that even he couldn't meet them half the time. 

Inevitably, he had astronomical standards for himself. He couldn't start anything unless he was certain of perfection, which meant he rarely started anything at all.

Dating was a special kind of hell. He'd meet someone, see their potential, their flaws, everything he needed to know within minutes. Then he'd hold them to the same impossible standard he'd suffocate himself with daily. They'd disappoint him eventually, not because they were disappointing, but because they were human. And humans, he'd learned, were never enough.

He could read people like scripts. Every insecurity telegraphed in the way they held their shoulders, every childhood wound visible in how they laughed too quietly or overapologize. Their upbringings played out in their nervous habits, their daddy issues evident in who they fucked and how they fucked them. A skill that oddly made him a great actor, because it gave him the information to easily crawl inside someone's skin and wear it. Small details created the big picture.

But the real performance was pretending he wasn't just as broken as everyone else—just better at hiding it behind a smile so he could look like he had his shit together.

Jungwon was his complete opposite in the best way possible. Where Sunoo performed liberation, Jungwon was liberation itself. He had this maddening way of existing in his own skin that made Sunoo want to either study him like a rare species or get inside his flesh and steal whatever gene made him so fucking fearless. He was a second-year Broadcasting major with the ability to come up with the most random thing to say and a laugh that sounded like he meant it every single time. He already had his own midnight radio show where strangers spilled their guts to him through phone lines, all the bad and ugly, and somehow he could absorb all that human wreckage without drowning in it.

Sunoo envied it. Jungwon could hold space for other people's pain without making it his own religion. 

Jungwon had this impossible ability to listen. The kind that made people feel seen without being dissected (like sometimes Sunoo would do). He was likeable in that authentic way that made people confess things they'd never said out loud. Not because he was manipulative, but because he genuinely gave a shit. 

Jungwon talked because he believed his words mattered, and listened because other people's words mattered more. He had opinions and wasn't afraid of them being wrong. He'd argue passionately about film theory one minute and admit he'd never seen Citizen Kane the next, without that crushing shame and uncultured guilt that would have sent Sunoo spiraling for weeks.

Wonyoung was what Sunoo would be if he'd been born a woman with actual confidence instead of anxiety masquerading as perfectionism. 

She was popular because the universe had no other fucking choice. Not because she planned for it, but because she existed with the charm of someone who'd never questioned whether she deserved to be the center of attention. People either worshipped her or wanted to burn her at the stake for the exact same reasons, and she'd just shrug and ask if they were done wasting her time.

A second-year Communication Arts major's unofficial princess. People called her princess-y like it was an insult, it wasn't—at least to her, because she'd smile when she heard that. You couldn't tell royalty they were acting royal and expect them to be embarrassed. She was attractive because she knew she was attractive, not in that desperate, "fishing-for-compliments" way, but in that matter-of-fact way. Like how the grass was green and the sky was blue. It was just reality. She owned every room she walked into because she'd never learned that she wasn't supposed to.

She was the kind of person who'd make a living off being famous because she understood something most people spent their whole lives trying to figure out: that charisma wasn't something you could fake forever, you need real confidence.

The three of them had met in a general education requirement course that Sunoo had procrastinated taking until his second year like an idiot. They'd all hated each other initially, something about being the standout kids in a sea of boring normies made them natural enemies. Nobody else wanted to work with any of them, so they'd gotten stuck together for a group project. Not Jungwon though, he was just nice enough to join their group instead to even out the group members distribution.

Wonyoung missed their third group meeting. She barely showed up to classes either, which proved everybody right about what they thought about her. Jungwon and Sunoo were pissed, thinking she was free-riding them and half-assing the course. 

"Fuck her," Sunoo had said, "We'll just remove her name from the project. Let her fail."

On presentation day. Wonyoung showed up wearing a hoodie pulled low he could barely see her face, and when she finally looked up, there were bruises around her eye that makeup couldn't quite cover.

Without thinking (which was unprecedented for him) Sunoo grabbed her wrist and pushed up her sleeve. Spotted more bruises. "Who did this to you?"

Wonyoung stayed quiet.

It took twenty minutes of careful questioning (Jungwon doing most of the talking because Sunoo couldn't do it without getting overly emotional) before she finally broke. Turned out, her piece-of-shit boyfriend had been using her as a punching bag, and she'd been too scared and ashamed. That's why she kept missing classes and meetings. That day, it occurred to Sunoo that even people who seemed invincible could be systematically destroyed by someone who claimed to love them.

They didn't even present that day. They just walked out of class with Wonyoung and spent the next week helping her document everything, get medical reports, and file charges against that bastard.

They got a bit of help from Jungwon's connection to push the case though. Because the institution was rooted in misogyny and they wouldn't take women seriously unless you had some advantages, like connection. It was fucking depressing, but they were just grateful they could help before things got worse.

They failed that assignment and had to do makeup work, but none of them gave a single shit. They'd been inseparable ever since.

Sunoo had never expected to find real friends in college. He'd spent most of his life being friendly with everyone but close to no one, just floating through friendship circles without really connecting. He'd figured that was just how he was built. He had accepted perhaps, at the end of the day, he only had himself. Until Jungwon and Wonyoung happened, and they decided he was worth keeping, flaws and all.

They sat outside the department building on the stone steps, half-eaten sandwiches and coffee cups around them.

"Are you finally going to finish your general ed requirements this semester?" Jungwon asked, mouth half-full, pointing his sandwich at Sunoo.

"Calm down, dad," Sunoo said, flicking crumbs off his lap. He reached into his tote, pulled out his printed schedule, and smacked it against Jungwon's face. "I got into Professor Kim Namjoon's Introduction to Literature."

Jungwon snatched the schedule to take a closer look. "No way. I tried to register and got waitlisted. They admit, like, one hundred people and I still got waitlisted!"

"Exactly," Sunoo smirked.

Wonyoung let out a laugh, tossing her hair so it won't get in the way of her sandwich. "I took it last year. Easy A. That's the class you take when you want free credits."

"That's exactly why I'm taking it," Sunoo said, unbothered. "Why kill myself over some bullshit gen ed course when I can breeze through with a grade that pads my GPA?"

Jungwon groaned, throwing his head back. "Unbelievable. I've been trying to get that class since freshman year."

Sunoo lit a cigarette he didn't finish from earlier. He glanced at his watch lazily. "Actually, I'm supposed to be in that class right now."

"And you're sitting here?"

"Professor Kim doesn't care about attendance," Wonyoung answered for him.

Sunoo exhaled smoke knowing he had all the time in the world. "Yeah. And why rush? What could I possibly miss on the first day of Introduction to Literature?"

The next week, Sunoo slipped into the lecture hall a full thirty minutes late. 

Namjoon was already deep into the lecture, pacing in front of the whiteboard where he'd scrawled "Why do we tell stories?" in handwriting. He was gesturing enthusiastically while reciting a modernist poetry Sunoo would pretend to find profound while internally calculating how much of this bullshit he'd need to memorize for the midterm. 

He scanned the sea of heads for a familiar face and spotted Riki's hand waving him over. Sunoo made his way down the steps, hyperaware of every eye that tracked his movement, every whisper that might be about his tardiness or his outfit or the way his hair fell prettily across his forehead. He liked this little attention people gave when he entered the room, the confirmation that even his presence can be felt had the same effect on him like crack.

"Where the hell were you?" Riki whispered as Sunoo slid into the seat beside him. "You skipped last week too?"

"Taking my time, what else?" Sunoo pulled out his phone, thumb automatically scrolling through Instagram stories he'd already seen twice. "It was the first day of the semester. And it's Professor Kim's course."

"Well, congrats. They took attendance today. And last week too."

Sunoo shot him a look, already sensing bullshit. "What do you mean they took attendance?"

"Yeah, and they gave us an assignment on day one. Hope you've got a cute excuse ready for not turning in your essay today."

He scrunched his face, trying to read Riki's expression. Sunoo knew him for his compulsive lying, especially when it came to getting a rise out of people. He fed off other people's panic.

"Hey, if you want to lie to me, try harder." Sunoo pulled out a small notebook he'd bought last semester and never used, flipping it open to a blank page. He grabbed a pen and started taking fake notes.

Except, when the lecture came to an end, Namjoon really did say, "Before you go, please pass your essay forward."

Sunoo's head snapped to Riki. Riki was already digging through his bag, pulling out his papers with that smug "I told you so" smirk.

"You did your essay too? And you didn't think to tell me?"

"You never read my messages, do you?" Riki shrugged, and fuck, he wasn't wrong. He rarely replied to Riki's message unless he needed Riki first.

The TA stood up from his seat in the front row, beginning his trek around the lecture hall to collect papers. Sunoo watched him move, his panic building with each step, each collected essay. Sunoo was still spiraling, trying to string together some half-assed excuse that didn't sound completely pathetic.

When the TA finally reached his row, he stopped directly in front of Sunoo's desk.

"Where's your essay?"

Sunoo didn't notice it first when he looked up as he was busy forming the first syllable of whatever nonsensical excuse he was about to pull out of thin air, but there was a split second of realization when his brain just... stopped. Like someone had yanked the power cord on his entire cognitive function.

The TA was fucking beautiful.

He made smart look sexy. Dark-rimmed glasses that somehow made his eyes sharper, dark hair that fell just right—messily grazing his eyes because he'd been running his fingers through it throughout the day. But it was his eyebrows that really fucked Sunoo over. Thick, dark, perfectly shaped without looking too manicured.

He had this icy, inexpressive quality that made him appear unapproachable, but Sunoo saw the lines at the corners of his eyes that told Sunoo that he still smiled, maybe even laughed often, but perhaps only for the right person. Lastly, the way he dressed… He dressed too well for a TA. Smart casual pulled off perfectly—he understood fashion. The plain white shirt he was wearing was Tom Ford, and it seemed that he got his slacks tailored somewhere expensive the way they fit right on his body. He didn't wear a flashy watch, but he had a simple white gold bracelet adorning his wrist. Most people fuck up the understated wealth aesthetic, and Sunghoon did it flawlessly. Maybe because he was actually wealthy if Sunoo could guess why.

Forgive Sunoo for staring, he was used to seeing passive TA with the presence of a blank wall. 

He casted aside glance at you. "I wish you could see what I'm looking at right now."

Sunghoon frowned. "Sorry?"

Sunoo's brain kicked back just in time to vomit half-cooked lie he couldn't even convince himself while he was telling it. Something about his laptop completely crashed last night, and his e-mail was down, and there was this family emergency yesterday that he had to deal with so he didn't have time to print it at the library before class.

"Stop." Sunghoon interrupted quietly and boredly. "Just... stop."

Sunoo's mouth snapped shut.

Sunghoon raised his eyes. Sunoo found it hard to focus because his face was god damn distracting. "You're saying your computer crashed, your email was down, and you had a family emergency. All conveniently happening at the same time."

"It sounds ridiculous when you put it like that."

"Because it is ridiculous." 

Sunghoon probably had heard every variation of this bullshit before. He wasn't being a complete dick but his body language made it clear he thought of Sunoo as an inconvenience. Plus he definitely knew he was hot and seemed personally pissed off that everyone else had noticed too.

Sunghoon reminded him of Wonyoung, the way they both held themselves in perfect posture like they never slouched a day in their life. With appearances that were so doll-like with perfect symmetry and porcelain skin. But the resemblances stopped there.

Sunghoon sighed. He scribbled something on his clipboard. "Office hours tomorrow," he said, not looking up from whatever he was writing. "Bring your essay then."

Sunghoon was being nice perhaps, because it was Sunoo's first mistake. Yet all Sunoo could think about was how even Sunghoon's kindness felt like condescension, how his generosity came with that underlying warning: I'm doing you a favor and we both know it.

Sunoo did show up the next morning to hand in his essay. As much as he despised it, he still did it out of sheer academic obligation.

He took a breath in front of the office door, then at you, "This is the part where I'm supposed to hand in the essay, roll my eyes, and walk away. Watch me fail at that."

He knocked lightly and nudged the door open. Inside, the TA office was quiet and chilly. Two, maybe three desks were occupied. Most others were empty because Prof Kim Namjoon's TA thought he was brilliant for holding office hours at fucking 8AM. Who even functioned at this hour?

He didn't see the TA anywhere in sight, however.

Sunoo approached the nearest TA, who looked up from the paper she was dismantling with a red pen.

"Excuse me, sorry, do you know where Prof. Kim Namjoon's TA is?"

"Park Sunghoon?" she asked. "He went outside earlier, he'll be back. His desk is the one in the corner."

Sunoo's eyes followed her gesture. He quietly thanked her and went. He looked around and saw the TA's desk. It's uncanny how clean and tidy the desk was, nothing was out of place, not even a single crumb. It borderlined psychopathic in ways Sunoo couldn't explain. 

He saw the school ID left on the desk. 

Park Sunghoon was a nice name. A bit common. But it fit.

He invited himself to linger, leaning against the windowsill. The window looked straight out to the library across the courtyard, where he spotted Sunghoon outside, phone pressed to his ear, cigarette balanced between two fingers.

"Really?" He half-expected Mr. TA to abstain from addictions like nicotine. Instead, there he was, one of the rest of them, smoking away stress like a cliché.

Sunghoon looked frazzled, something about that phone call had him tense. He stubbed out, pocketed the phone, and (Sunoo hated he didn't see this coming) pulled out a tiny bottle of mouth spray and spritzed twice.

Sunoo laughed under his breath. "Of course you do."

The door opened a minute later, and there he was.

"Oh, you actually showed up," was the first thing Sunghoon said.

Oddly, Sunoo wasn't offended. He smiled and waved the printed out essay.

Sunghoon didn't just take the essay from Sunoo's hand. He flipped it open right there at his desk and slid into the chair.

"Hey. Aren't you supposed to do that after I leave?" Sunoo asked, hovering awkwardly.

"I don't have anything else to do right now. You might as well hear about your essay."

It was the might as well that got him. Sunoo crossed his arms. He suddenly felt defensive. Sunghoon read silently for a moment, pen scratching once against the paper, before he finally spoke.

"Okay. The prompt was: What is literature and why do we study it? Right?"

"Yeah."

"You scrambled this last minute, it's obvious," Sunghoon said plainly, "And normally, for an engineering student, I'd let that slide. But you're a Theatre & Film major. You should be more comfortable talking about stories."

Sunoo scoffed. "I am comfortable. I just didn't think this class was supposed to be that serious. It's only the first week."

"Everything's serious when you write it down," Sunghoon countered. He tapped one line with the end of his pen. "'Literature reflects life, and that's why we need it.' That's fine, but it's vague. How does it reflect life? Whose life? Why should we care?"

Sunoo opened his mouth to argue, then shut it. Because fuck, Sunghoon was right. That sentence was merely a beautiful empty shell. It was something but utterly meaningless.

Sunghoon's pen kept moving, circling words, striking through others.

"You leaned too much on general statements. 'Literature makes us human,' 'Stories connect people'. They sound nice, but they don't show me that you thought about it. You want to make this better?" He finally looked up behind the glasses. "Give me something personal. How does literature correlate to acting for you? How these things connect and what it means to you. That's where you'd sound like you."

Sunoo blinked at him and turned around, giving himself a time-out. "You ever think someone's just hot, and then they open their mouth you're already expecting them to say something stupid because that's how it usually goes. But then they actually say something substantial and suddenly you're like… oh. This is dangerous." He raised a hand quickly, remembering he was still in the middle of getting flayed alive. "Anyways." He spun back around.

"And," Sunghoon added, "don't tell me you didn't have time. You had enough time to make this look like an essay. You just didn't have it in you to make it an honest one."

Sunoo was annoyingly impressed. "Okay. Do you want me to re-write it or what?"

"No. Just keep it in mind next time you're writing an essay."

"So next time I should just write some personal experience to make it sound more honest?"

"You could try."

"I did try. You're just not giving me credit for the way I did it. Half of what you're asking is a bit performative."

That gave Sunghoon pause. His hand stilled on the page.

"Those general statements you're dismissing? That's still substance. I believe what I wrote. I'm being honest about what I think literature does. Just because it's not wrapped in a confessional writing doesn't make it any less honest."

For a beat, Sunghoon stayed like that. His fingers lingered on the margin of the page. Something in him perhaps was moved, even only by just 1mm. The line between his brows smoothed out, and for the first time since they'd spoken, his eyes actually settled on Sunoo instead of skating over him. His mouth didn't curve, but there was the faintest suggestion that it could if he allowed it.

It wasn't praise, but it felt like it.

Sunoo closed the door behind him and couldn't help a smirk. "He looked at me like I said something worthwhile. That's the worst thing he could do, because now I want him to look at me like that again."

Sunghoon looked at the door closing and finally let out a quiet laugh. He scribbled in the margin of Sunoo's essay: When cornered, you lace your words with bravado. It's compelling in conversation, but weak in writing.

That night, while patting moisturizer into his cheeks, Sunoo typed Kim Namjoon Literature into the university's private course portal. Professor Kim Namjoon's page loaded with all the university bureaucracy information…. Blah blah…. Sunoo wasn't interested in course descriptions or office hours. He wanted the real tea, so he went to the students' forum.

Kim Namjoon was generally described as some kind of academic saint, a chill professor, easy A, attendance optional, the holy trinity of college course selection. Students gushed about his passion and humility. Nothing Sunoo never heard before.

Sunoo applied his final layer of night-time skin ritual—moisturizer, gentle fingers working in small circles across his cheekbones while his eyes stayed locked on his reflection on the opened laptop on his desk.

He turned toward his bedroom mirror, then shifted his gaze just slightly to the left—to you.

"At this point, you're probably thinking that this information will make me feel... reluctant or too scared to continue the course." He capped the moisturizer and set it down. "And you might be thinking that my reluctance, well, or my beauty, will intrigue him, even though he literally only saw me twice and scowled at me for not turning in my essay."

He moved to his closet, skimming and pulling out outfits for tomorrow.

"We'll be in some kind of spicy push and pull, dark academia porn situation, where I'm the helpless lamb caught in the pull of this devil… mysterious TA." Sunoo held up a baby blue sweater against his chest, evaluating the look on his full-length mirror.

"We'll talk about literature, somehow incorporating quotes from renowned poets… and dead authors to make this story feel like it has more depth than it's supposed to have. But mostly, it's to make it feel more forbidden." He tossed the sweater onto his bed and selected a beige button-down instead.

"You know, sex and academia are the forbidden fruit people love so much. The whole student-teacher dynamic, power imbalances, intellectual seduction..." He trailed off, fingers working the buttons of his pajama shirt.

"And the fact that he has a reputation for sleeping with students is already controversial as it is. But he's just a TA, he's still a student too. A grad student." Sunoo pulled on the beige shirt, leaving the top two buttons undone because he wasn't an amateur at this game. He shoved his hands into his pants, considering the look.

"It wasn't the rumors about him dating students that bothered me." He undressed again, putting on a different shirt. "It was that none of them were me."

"So no, I'm not scared. I'm not reluctant." He tilted his head, smiling. "Tomorrow, I'm going to walk into that classroom, and I'm going to make him notice me."

The smile widened when he turned to look at you.

"It's gonna be so much fun."