Over the next week Jackson was more or less glued to Mark’s side. Wherever the brown haired boy went, Jackson was right there pointing, asking questions, wondering how things were pronounced.

Mark didn’t have a problem with this at first, he actually really enjoyed helping newcomers, especially when they were as good looking as Jackson.

But that’s exactly where the problems started. Every time Mark leaned over to spell something for Jackson, he would get a whiff of the boy’s scent. It was raw and musky, yet had a faint shimmer of sweetness.

Mark would retract his hand as quickly as he could and look away, trying not to let Jackson suspect anything.

Anytime Jackson would place his hand on Mark’s shoulder, or lean in while Mark was reading something to him, Mark would freeze up, silently analyzing Jackson’s strong and oddly pretty fingers.

“How to say..?” Jackson would mumble blankly, pointing towards a stapler.

Mark could tell that Jackson was embarrassed to be asking all of these simple questions, so he wouldn’t dwell too much on them. Instead he would just point at the object, say it out loud slowly, and then write it on a sticky note.

Jackson now had a stack of yellow sticky notes all lined in his notebook from his adventures around the school with Mark.

Every time they came across something new Jackson would point and Mark would scribble it down.

One afternoon in the library Mark, was going over some of the English homework that was assigned to Jackson.

“Okay, I want you to write down your family members. We’re going to make a tree.” Mark said, outlining the spider web on the paper that would eventually be filled with all of Jackson’s family members.

“Tree?” Jackson echoed lightly.

“Not a real tree, a fake one.” Mark explained.

Jackson raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Ok. Um. It’s sort of like a graph, where we will list all of your family members.” He began, drawing a circle at the bottom center of the tree. “This is you.” He said, writing Jackson’s name in the circle.

Jackson nodded his head and followed Mark’s hand with his eyes intently.

“Now, these are your siblings.” Mark said, drawing two lines to the side of Jackson’s circle. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

Jackson took a deep breath in and shook his head. He chewed on his bottom lip a little and then glanced at Mark.

“You’re an only child?” Mark asked.

Jackson’s nod was slow and timid.

“It’s okay. We don’t need to add them then. What about your parents?” Mark asked next, drawing two more lines above Jackson’s circle. “This is your mom?”

Jackson put his head down, his palms rubbed against his kneecaps anxiously. He looked around the room as if he wanted to focus on anything but the question asked to him.

“Jackson?” Mark said, turning his head towards the boy. “Your mom?”

Jackson looked back at Mark quickly. He shook his head again, this time it was more firm.

“Okay.” Mark said, not wanting to pry any further. “How about we get some air?”

Jackson looked up, a little hopeful. “Walk?”

“Yeah.” Mark said back with a warm smile. “Let’s get out of here, this can wait.”

Jackson rose and followed happily. Mark could sense something deeper going on, but decided to leave it alone. It wasn’t his place to ask personal questions, he thought.

Partway through their walk around the campus, Jackson stopped and sat himself down on a bench. The spring breeze was cool against the warm rays of the sun.

There was a fountain across the path from the two, Jackson was tossing small rocks into it.

Mark sat at the end of the bench about a foot away from Jackson, watching as the former skipped stones. Jackson was a quiet young man, and Mark couldn’t figure out if it was because he was a man of few words, or he was quiet because he was quite literally a man of very few English words.

As Jackson giggled and interacted with some of the ducks that had wandered from the fountain, Mark found himself wishing he could delve deeper into Jackson’s mind and unlock his personality.

There must be so much behind that language barrier, he thought to himself. Jackson was always naturally handsome, but for some reason today he looked extra beautiful. Whether it was the sun against his warm skin, the firm curves of the muscles on his arms that pulsed when he threw each rock, or the light hearted laugh that escaped his mouth every time a duck would quack at him, Mark couldn’t figure out. There was just something about him.

Jackson was now sitting cross legged in the grass, a few ducks surrounding him, nipping away at the leaves that Jackson was holding out.

Mark scribbled down the words duck, grass, leaf, water, and bench onto sticky notes. He left the bench and plopped himself down next to Jackson on the grass.

“Bird.” Jackson said gleefully.

“Duck.” Mark answered, handing Jackson a stack of sticky notes.

Jackson examined the pile, sounding each word out slowly. “Grass… leeef… wat… water…”

“Good job.” Mark said as he leaned back and closed his eyes, taking in the sunshine.

“Bench… duck… … y…” Jackson continued.

Mark’s eyes bolted open and his head nearly twisted off of his spinal cord as he reached for the stack of notes in Jackson’s hand.

“What’s mean?” Jackson asked obliviously.

Mark’s heart beat skyrocketed as he looked through the sticky notes. Sure enough the last note had the word “y” scribbled into it in very dark ink. Mark hadn’t even realized he was writing anything as he watched Jackson.

“Nothing. That word’s not important. It’s okay.” Mark stuttered. “Hey, we should get back to the homework, right?”

Jackson’s gaze was mischievous, almost as if he knew what had just happened. Mark’s forehead was covered in sweat, and it wasn’t from the spring heat.

Back in the library, it was nearing 4PM and everyone was gone, even the staff. Mark had an extra set of keys to the library in case he needed to stay late, he was granted that privilege when he was elected class president.

“Hm?” Jackson said upon entering the double doors. He took a concerned glance around the large library. “Alone?” he quipped.

“Yeah, it’s home time. I’m going to stay late to get my own work done, but you can leave if you want.” Mark answered, entering the room alone. He expected Jackson to gather his things and leave, but the Hong Kong boy slid his chair back out and sat himself down promptly.

When Mark sat next to him, there was no doubt in his mind that Jackson was staying. With a bright smile, Jackson flipped his binder open and continued to scrawl English letters into it. Mark had been teaching him the alphabet slowly; they stopped at the letter L though.

Jackson pressed his finger down on the page directly at the letter L, motioning for Mark to explain it.

“Okay, so look at my mouth.” Mark said, opening his mouth. “You want to put your tongue on the roof of your mouth to make this sound. LLLLLLLLLL”

Jackson giggled, then placed his hand onto Mark’s chin affectionately.

Mark froze, his bottom lip quivered in shock. Jackson’s touch was incredibly soft, like silk against his skin, sending shivers down his back.

Jackson lulled the sound back, it was a breathy sound of an L, his hand still on Mark’s chin, almost grazing the boy’s lip.

“Yeah…” Mark whimpered, “Like that…”

Jackson’s dark brown eyes were glued to Mark’s mouth as he repeated the low sound again, “Lips.” He finally whispered.

Mark’s eyebrows lifted suddenly, “Yes! That’s right.” He said excitedly.

Jackson smirked, his devilish expression made Mark blush. He was so, so cute.

Mark turned his attention toward the notepad quickly to dispel any suspicion that Jackson had about him blushing.

“These words start with the letter L. Repeat them after me.” He instructed, forcing Jackson’s hand off of his chin and back down to the paper.

Jackson giggled silently under his breath and did as he was told.

“Laundry… lace… lake… land… lord… lips… like-“

Jackson stopped Mark there, “Like?” he asked politely.

“You know, when you enjoy something or someone.” Mark said, writing the word down on the sheet.

“Like…” Jackson repeated to himself.

“What do you like?” Mark asked curiously.

He watched as Jackson fumbled around with the pencil, awkwardly fiddling with it while he chewed on his lip. After a moment of hesitation, he pointed the pencil directly at Mark.

“You like.. pencils?” Mark questioned, a puzzled look over his face.

Jackson shook his head, clearly embarrassed. He pointed again without saying anything, only a shy smile on his face.

“M-“ Mark suddenly was the one who couldn’t speak English properly. “Me?” he stumbled.

Jackson’s smile faded and his eyes grew even more smoldering. He stared directly at Mark and nodded, almost as if asking for permission.

Mark froze. He wasn’t prepared to have this sort of interaction with Jackson. His lesson plan didn’t include this incredibly hot boy breathing on him, gently grazing him all day, and now confessing his attraction for him.

“I’m not sure if you understand the word properly.” Mark said, wrestling with the idea that Jackson could actually like him. “I can explain it again?”

Jackson then slid a firm hand onto Mark’s thigh, making the latter shift his in his seat slightly. Jackson’s touch wasn’t invasive or uncomfortable, it was too comfortable. Mark couldn’t believe what was going on.

“No. I like you.” Jackson said in the most confident sentence he’s ever heard Jackson speak. For a second Mark thought he sounded like a native English speaker.

“Oh.” Mark said, his voice shy and embarrassed, looking down at the strong hand on his thigh.