“Mr. Hong, where do you think you’re going?”

. Got caught. “Um, I have art club,” I mumble feebly.

“You, sir, have detention.” He glares at me, and then glares at the group of girls lingering in the doorway. “Right now. If you have no respect for my classes, then I dare not have respect for your
 extracurricular activities.”

“But as a Prefect I-”

“You are first and foremost a student, do I make myself clear?!”

The sound of his voice shakes the ground, he’s so angry – I actually stumble back until the edge of a chair digs into my back. The fire in Jun’s eyes is real – he’s really angry – and it makes the girls in the doorway squeak and run off.

I just stand there, leaning back in shock, as Jun takes swift, long strides to close the classroom door. Then he turns immediately, crossing back over the room, and does the weirdest and possibly most infuriating thing.

He grips my waist with both hands and kisses me.

He’s not difficult to push off, but when I take an impulsive swing he dodges easily this time.

“What the hell?!” I yell.

He stares at me in surprise for a moment, and then leans in again as if he’s trying to kiss me a second time. When I lean back, he gives me an affronted, utmost offended look.

“What are you doing?!”

He blinks in surprise. “Well, I thought I was trying to kiss you.”

“What the actual hell?!” I yell back, face flooding with blood. I feel like I could rip his heart out with my teeth, I’m so angry. “You just gave me detention in front of the entire class! Why the hell would I kiss you?”

He chuckles, and it makes me think he’s the most infuriating creature crawling on the earth. He steals an arm around me again, anyway. “You’re so cute. How else was I supposed to get some alone time?”

“Get off me!”

Jun smiles happily, leaning in closer. “You’re cute when you struggle. Just a kiss-”

“Can I help you?” a dark, threatening voice intervenes before Jun can give me another kiss. Jeonghan is standing on my right, arms folded thickly across his chest, and butter my and call me a biscuit, but his actual hair is on fire – a thick, red flame that frames his stormy expression.

Jun doesn’t move – he just freezes. “Jeonghan,” he says with some measure of surprise.

Jeonghan gives him a death glare that makes my knees weaken slightly. “You’re holding my Concordat,” he growls. “I’d like it if you could give him back.”

“…he’s got detention.”

“He’s gonna have a new Mandarin teacher if you don’t take your filthy paws off of him.”

Slowly – incrementally – Jun unwinds the arm around me, and for some reason, I rush towards my own personal demon. Just before I get near enough to be bothered by the heat, his halo of fire goes out, and he holds out his arms for me to fold into comfortably. He just pulls me in tightly to his body, and snaps his fingers until we’re in an entirely different corridor.

I realize too late that I’m breathing too hard, and just cling to him as I pant it out.

Jeonghan’s hand slowly comes up to my head and down lightly, cradling my head and waist together. “Shhhh,” he coos softly in my ear. “It’s alright, you’re alright. I got you. You’re safe.”

My fists slowly unclamp from his shirt until my palms are flat on his back and my breathing is back to normal. I press my face against hi shoulder a little more. “Thanks,” I breathe.

“It’s alright. You don’t need to thank me.” Jeonghan doesn’t raise his voice even a little. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“My heart and reputation?”

“Seriously. Did you hurt you?”

“No.”

Jeonghan lets out a relieved sigh in my ear and moves to put both arms around my waist. “Thank goodness. I’m sorry I let that get out of hand so quickly. Next time, let me attend class with you, please? I don’t want this to ever happen again.”

I just nod quickly, because right now, there’s nothing I can imagine to be more comforting than this right here. To be with somebody who saved me from… whatever might have happened. And maybe I’m exaggerating, but I feel so safe right now I can’t help it. Jeonghan’s body is warm and large and soft, and I want to curl up against his chest and sleep, because I’m suddenly tired.

“Thank you,” he whispers, rubbing my back with a flat palm. “Feeling better?”

I nod instantly, again. “Thanks for saving me,” I mumble meekly.

“My genuine pleasure.” He doesn’t stop rubbing my back. “Do you want to go home, or do you want to go to art club?”

“Art club,” I mumble. “But… can you come with me?”

“Of course,” he says, and the tone is as gentle as small ripples in a still lake. “Of course I’ll come with you.”

After art club – which mostly consists of Joshua commending them for the work they did at the festival and the art nerds lying around, exhausted – Joshua spends an hour tutoring the first year kids on math and history before finally moving to the Prefect room.

“You work too hard,” I inform