“I hate that Mr. Lee. I want to step on his foot! That little devil!” Seungkwan complained. They were eating lunch after Seungkwan had been reprimanded in history class for making too much noise (or standing on a desk and singing at the top of his lungs). “Not the time for singing, my ! All the time is the perfect time for singing!”

“He was just trying to teach you how to shut up, that’s his job as a teacher,” Mingyu laughs. He’s gotten used to his classmates dissing Jihoon; the guy was notorious for being such a strict and unapproachable teacher.

“Mr. Lee is really cute though,” Soonyoung says through a mouthful of rice.

Well, this was new. Mingyu stares at his friend, awaiting an explanation.

“He’s good at explaining things and his voice is really soothing,” Soonyoung continues, and Mingyu can’t help but smile, his heart swelling with pride. Seungkwan gives Soonyoung the stink eye and tells him he has ‘zero taste’. “And have you seen his ? That’s a class A to me!”

“Don’t talk about him like that.” Mingyu’s friends turn to him. It wasn’t a very Kim Mingyu thing to talk in such a cold tone.

“Oh? Why not? You have a crush on him?” Soonyoung says in that challenging tone of his.

“It’s…” Mingyu wracks his brain. “It’s disrespectful! You can’t talk about teachers like that!” Mingyu gives himself a mental pat on the back. That would show Kwon Soonyoung.

“But it is a nice ! I noticed too!” Seokmin counters. He and Soonyoung do their secret victory handshake that Mingyu has kind of memorized right now from the two of them always having to do it in front of him for every little victory.

“I have the best quality !” Seungkwan wails. “Stop appreciating his ! He’s your friend’s enemy! I’m your friend!”

“Yeah!” Mingyu agrees loudly. Stop checking out my husband’s !

-

Mingyu’s preparing dinner, when he hears the front door open, light footsteps sounding on the wooden floors.

“Hullo, Minggu,” Jihoon greets him fondly as he passes by the kitchen. So unlike the stoic teacher everyone either hated or was afraid of at school.

“Welcome home,” Mingyu greets back. “We’re having your favorite jjajangmyeon today.”

Jihoon gives him the cutest eyesmile before rushing upstairs to wash up.

This had become their daily routine: eating breakfast together, Jihoon driving Mingyu to the train station while he drives by himself all the way to the school where he taught and where Mingyu studied at, Mingyu going to his part-time job at a nearby convenience store after school, Mingyu going home to prepare dinner, Jihoon finally coming home and the two of them eating together.

“Seungkwan hates you,” Mingyu announces when they’re both seated at the small dining table.

“Who?” Jihoon asks absently. He’s focused on the food, looking happy as he chewed. “This is pretty good!”

Mingyu beams. Of course it was good, he made it himself. His cooking skills were something to take pride in. “Seungkwan, as in Boo Seungkwan. He was singing in history today.”

Jihoon makes a face. “The loud one! God, doesn’t he know how to shut up?”

Mingyu laughs. “He doesn’t.”

“I hate your friends,” Jihoon exclaims, jabbing at the air in Mingyu’s direction with his chopsticks.

“My friends hate you too!” Mingyu says back, and the two of them laugh, Jihoon in his head-thrown-back-and-slapping-anything-near (this time it was the table surface) way. Mingyu suddenly remembers Soonyoung. Apparently, not all of his friends hate Jihoon. “Hey, Jihoonie? What if a student confesses his love to you?”

It’s the funniest thing ever to Jihoon, and he’s clutching his stomach and banging his palm on the table again. “That’s never gonna happen!”

“No, just what if? What would you do?”

“Come on, I’m not popular,” Jihoon says, going back to his noodles. “Never have been, never will be. You know I only got a husband because of that arrangement.”

Mingyu frowns. He hated it when Jihoon made self-deprecating comments. “You’re attractive, Jihoonie!” he insists. I’d marry you if I hadn’t already.

Jihoon blinks. “Thanks? I’m not really popular with students though. It’s Mr. Hong that’s always getting love letters.”

Nodding, Mingyu tries to concentrate on his nearly-finished bowl of noodles.

“Aren’t you really popular?” Jihoon suddenly asks. “You seem to have a lot of girls following you around.”

“I guess?” Mingyu’s never really thought about it, but he did get his fair share of confessions and love letters and girls twirling their hair while talking to him. He was tall and his face was handsome, so he couldn’t help it, he decided.

“You should date them,” Jihoon says casually, helping himself to another bowl of noodles. “It’s not like we’re married because we want to be.”

The way Mingyu’s heart sinks at that must have shown on his face, because Jihoon’s howling with laughter while pointing at his face. Jihoon always found others’ plight funny.