minghao is quite literally ed. in all senses of the word.

“ah, , xukun—please—” minghao’s words taper off into a sob. “so good—” minghao pushes his back, wanting more , when his phone suddenly starts vibrating from its once dormant place on the bed.

incoming call from baby♡

“wait—xukun—” minghao says breathily. “seokmin’s calling.”

the older but nonetheless attractive man snorts, pushing himself off minghao. “suit yourself, ming,” he says, eyes lazily falling close.

“what’s wrong, min? you know i always skip monday,” minghao says as he picks up, pushing his hair out of his eyes. he frowns; it is getting quite a bit long, isn’t it? maybe he’ll ask xukun to bring him out for a haircut later—

“ no, you idiot, ” seokmin’s voice comes tinny from his speaker. “the goddamn gaokao is in fifteen minutes and you’re not here .”

minghao’s eyes widen. “it’s today ?” he screeches, falling down the bed in his haste. “no, you . it’s tomorrow,” seokmin snorts, and minghao can almost see him rolling his eyes. “what do you think?”

“ you—i’m coming, please don’t leave me alone outside,” minghao says. he takes out one of the uniforms he’s stashed in xukun’s closet. "yeah, yeah," seokmin snorts. "hurry up."

“come back to bed, baby,” xukun’s sleep-glazed voice sounds from the bed. “you think i don’t want to?” minghao snorts bitterly. “i know you’re old, xukun, but you must know how important the gaokao is.”

xukun flicks him off. “i’m only five years older than you, ming. it was still around then. come on, i’ll take you. ”

by some of luck—or a ing miracle, minghao doesn’t care—he manages to get to his school on time. the teachers outside the school hall blink at the expensive car xukun drives, but lets him pass anyway.

seokmin does not wait for him like he said he would, but minghao didn’t think he would in the first place. no matter how tough seokmin acts, he’s still a good kid. minghao is jealous sometimes.

he slips into the hall just as the chief invigilator, some fat balding old guy, is rattling off the horribly mundane rules. honestly, who doesn’t know that they can’t cheat?

seokmin smiles at him as he lopes to his designated seat. you made it , he mouths, and minghao grins back, albeit a little guiltily. he breathes a sigh of relief when the chief fart only gives him a stink-eye and smiles tightly at him as he sits.

minghao’s face burns hot when he feels some mystery fluid wetting his briefs and running down the back of his thigh. he puts his face in his hands, muttering a prayer to any god that’ll listen.

“you may begin,” the man says, and minghao lifts his head to see the other students collectively flipping over the thin stack of papers on their desks. minghao follows suit, blanching at the sight of the subject—mathematics—written in bold, block letters on the first page

he flips the page and reads the first question:

1. A tetrahedron’s edge length is √2 and its four points are on a sphere, so what is the sphere’s area?

what.

minghao blinks owlishly at the question. he looks at the next one.

2. Given f (x) = sinx - (2sqrt(3))(sin^2(pi/2)), find f(x)’s smallest positive revolution

what the .

he glances up, seeing his schoolmates already writing. he nods to himself; right, he should write too.

he doesn’t have a pen.

minghao stares at his hands, lips pursed because how could he be this dumb?

that’s when the first piece of paper falls on his desk, along with a pen.

rub your right eye if you need help again.

1. c
2. b
3. c
4. d
5. a
6. a
7. d
8. b
9. d
10. c

junhui wonders if he’s trying to get himself fired three months into the job.

he doesn’t know why he’s helping the kid. maybe it’s because he’s cute, button nose and big doe eyes peeking out from long lashes. or maybe it’s because he sympathizes with him, having took it four years ago.

(but why should he? he actually studied, got the best scores in shenzhen—junhui squashes the thought. useless.)

well, at least he can stop teaching hormonal kids barely four years younger than him and get that kindergarten job he’d wanted.

“hey, kid, time’s up,” says one of the invigilators as he raps on minghao’s desk. he has a nice voice, deep like midnight honey, but minghao pays him little heed, hands still firmly pressing his paper down as he struggles to get down the last paragraph.

the man sighs, as if minghao is physically hurting him. “kid, don’t fight me here, pass it up.”

minghao glowers at his papers for a moment before ing them to the fart’s face. only that it is a very nice face and not a typical fart’s, all caramel skin and dark eyes and pretty lips.

minghao immediately flushes red. “um—sorry?”

the invigilator— fart —snorts. “this is the first and last time, kid. don’t do this again if you want to pass.” he takes the paper and leaves, but not before he slips a small crumpled piece of paper on minghao’s desk.

find me outside later.

“so? why are we here?” the boy demands, hands on his hips, though he’s still fairly cute in junhui’s eyes. or maybe he’s just biased.

“so you can buy me lunch in return for the answers, love,” he says smoothly. “dinner sounds good, too.”

the boy blinks in disbelief. “ you gave me the answers?” he asks incredulously. “i’m probably going to buy you your meals for the rest of your life and possibly kiss you.”

“well,” junhui laughs. he really was something. “i’m not opposed to that.”