“I think that’s it for today, class, good work! See you all next time.” You dust your hands off carefully and undo the high bun on top of your head, sighing heavily as you stretch. It had been a very long and stressful day and it felt as if your every limb was on fire. You still weren’t quite used to teaching hapkido when most of the kids were just a few years younger than yourself or around the same age. You always caught yourself thinking of them as your buddies rather than students; though, to be honest, you didn’t mind joking around and practicing with them like old friends.

The pay wasn’t anything to brag about, and the location wasn’t very fancy. The job was everyday stuff and you never really got a break. But to see the smiles on the faces of those kids when they correctly executed a move or moved up a rank…that’s what made it worth it. That’s what made it your dream job.

You change out of the uniform and into your everyday clothes before tugging your bag over your shoulder. You flick out all of the lights and shut the door tightly behind you before slipping out into the thick darkness of the night.

It wasn’t a very long walk back to your home, but the neighborhood wasn’t exactly the greatest and you were always a bit on edge. But you were confident that you would be safe no matter what; years of extensive training and perfecting ensured that.

You take the shortcut down an alley that you’ve been following for years, ducking under awnings and avoiding bags of trash. You come out on the other side of the neighborhood, just a few blocks from your home.

You follow the cracked sidewalk and flickering streetlights, tucking your hands deep into the pockets of your jeans. The air is slightly humid and crickets hum in the distance. It’s entirely peaceful, until a sound catches you off guard.

There are footsteps behind you. Heavy ones.

You don’t turn back, afraid that you’ll spin around and meet eyes with your kidnapper. Instead, you merely speed up and clutch securely at the strap of your bag. You’re prepared to spin around and hit him with it; anything that would help you escape with ease.

The footsteps only grow louder and when a soft touch grazes your shoulder, you squeeze your eyes shut and grip the hand. You toss your attacker over your shoulder effortlessly and he slams against the ground, breath knocked out of him.

“Oh my god,” you say, your voice thick with panic. “I…uh…oh my god.”

It just had to be one of your students.

You recognize the blond hair and full lips immediately as you crouch by his side, helping him into a sitting position. “Oh my god,” you repeat. “I’m so sorry, Yongguk. I thought…I’m so sorry.”

The only student you have that was a bit older than you. The only student that caught your eye every time you practiced with him, the only one who made you flush and made your pulse stutter. And you throw him over your shoulder.

He sits up, wincing, and gives you a loose grin. “Don’t be sorry. I should know better than to sneak up behind my hapkido instructor. That was a stupid move on my part.” He grimaces as you help him to his feet and dust off his clothes, the tips of your ears stained red.

“Oh god, you’re bleeding. Come on, I’m taking you back to my house to clean you up.” You hold up his arm and examine the cuts on his elbows and palms with a frown. He looks surprised and holds up his hands in protest.

“Ah, that’s okay, I’m fine. I just wanted to ask you a question; I really didn’t mean to bother you.” You ignore his protests and drag him after you, guilt rising in your stomach. It didn’t matter that the two of you were the same age. In fact, you had a feeling that he was quite a few months older than you. You had still injured a student purposely. A student.

You told yourself that was the reason you felt like such a terrible person, not because Yongguk made you so nervous or flushed. That was definitely not the reason.

You unlock your front door with ease and steer him inside, plopping him down on the sofa before searching for a first aid kit. You fish for gauze and disinfectant before returning to where he sits, a frown on your face.

“This is probably going sting,” you say, dipping a q-tip in the disinfectant. He winces slightly when you apply it to his palm and you blow on it lightly to try to relieve the pain. “I’m so sorry,” you mumble again. “Can you ever forgive me? I promise I don’t usually throw my students on the ground.” He chuckles softly, his low, rumbling voice sending tremors down your spine.

“I must be special then,” he drawls, his gaze flickering across yours. “Don’t worry about it, I’m fine. You’re already forgiven.” You wrap the bandages around his cuts and secure them tightly with a soft pat to the crook of his elbow.

“There you go,” you say with a warm smile. “All better.”

His cherry hued lips curl upwards in sync with yours and he shifts slightly, his knee brushing against yours. You swallow hard and try to distract yourself with cleaning up the first aid kit. “So, um, what did you want to ask me again? Before I kind of…threw you?” He chuckles low in the back of his throat and the tips of his ears grow pink.

“Well, actually, I was going to ask you if you wanted to go out and get dinner with me after class tomorrow.” Your eyes widen in surprise and you’re sure he can hear the outrageous pounding of your heart. “I mean, as long as you don’t plan on dropkicking me in the middle of the restaurant,” he jokes with a smirk.

“Sure,” you say through an awestruck smile. “I would love to.”