Ever since the beginnings of his childhood, Jung Yunho always thought he’d grow up to do something great with his life.

            Though he had never really dwelled upon the specifics of this supposed grandiose future, he had still convinced himself that he would no doubt be living a life of luxury by his early twenties. When he was young his childish mind would create outlandish after outlandish theory, never sticking with one for more than a week before jumping to the next.

            One day he would aim to be a famous singer, scampering around the house and screaming into makeshift microphones (much to the dissatisfaction of his parents, already plenty exhausted from living with a child, so... spirited, as they liked to put it). The next day he was on to modeling, posing in every mirror he could find, practicing facial expressions, strutting across the hallways, creating his signature walk for the runway he would surely be parading up and down someday. Then it was a famous scientist who, after miraculously discovering the cure for the common cold with nothing but a few household objects and the chemistry play set his aunt had given him for his seventh birthday, decided to retire young and spend his years on the private island he would surely own by then.

            He tossed his books on his desk with a deafening slam and glared down at the vast number of people sitting before him.

            “Good morning," they chanted, a chorus of mismatched voices that only grated at his ears and made him grimace even further.

            Something great, certainly.

            “My name is Mr. Jung, and I’ll be your new level three English teacher.”

            Yes, regardless of what exactly it was that he was doing, he always thought he’d be doing something fantastic, idolized in the public eye and worshipped by everyone who knew him – which would, if everything went according to plan, be the majority of the population.

            “Please turn to page twenty-two in your textbooks.”

            So, it was quite safe to say, being a teacher for a bunch of high school brats was not the way Jung Yunho wanted his future to end up.

            “How did you land this job anyway?” Yoochun took a long drag from his cigarette, chest expanding as he inhaled the gray smoke deep into his lungs.

            Yunho sighed. Work was not something he wanted to talk about at that moment, or at any moment, for that matter. “My parents know the head of the language department there. They needed a new English teacher.” He shrugged. “So… they asked me.” He watched Yoochun carefully as he leaned against the balcony, eyes fixed on the star scattered sky before them and. The moon cast an eerie glow over his pale face. The silence was stifling, not a single noise besides their rhythmic breathing and the rustling of the trees beneath them.

            “What’s the pay like?” Yoochun asked.

            “It’s only part-time. But it’s not bad. Not good, either.”

            The warm, early fall air felt strangely calm as it drifted across his face. Yunho wasn’t an outdoorsy person in any sense of the word. His idea of a nature excursion was more along the lines of getting drunk outside his apartment after forgetting his keys. He flipped a cigarette from his pocket and placed it haphazardly between his lips. “Gimme a light," he demanded. Yoochun complied, holding the lighter to the end of his cigarette before Yunho inhaled the smoke and held it deep inside his lungs. Yunho usually avoided being outside as much as he could, but there was something peaceful about this particular moonlit night, the occasional breeze almost refreshing, a nice change from the musty air of his apartment.

            “What grade are you teaching, then?”

            “Eleventh.”

            “So fifteen year olds? Or sixteen?”

            “, I don’t ing know,” Yunho said, shrugging his shoulders and tapping the ashes off the edge of the balcony. They swirled and spun mournfully until the wind scattered them out of sight and into the trees below.

            “I never pegged you as the type to be a teacher, you know,” Yoochun said with a laugh.

            “That's because I’m not,” he replied. He couldn’t help but scoff, the hoarse sound swallowed up by the muffled night and carried off by the breeze. Never in his life would he have imagined he’d have to be teaching a bunch of high school kids. Even now it was difficult to believe.

            “Ah, I’m jealous,” Yoochun groaned after a short pause, a trail of smoke dancing around his face as he emptied his lungs. Yunho stared at him with an inquisitive look that landed him a playful nudge on his side. “A job being surrounded by high school girls?” Yoochun said, a mischievous grin spreading itself across his face.  “You’re a lucky guy, Yunho.”

            Yunho clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Shut the up, Yoochun," Yunho spat, rolling the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. "Remind me never to let you pick me up from work, ing ert.” Yoochun only responded with a playful laugh, the silence that followed a peaceful one, a comfortable quiet that allowed them a few moments to just stare at the night sky before them.

            Yunho sighed and flicked the short stump of a cigarette off of the balcony, peering downward and watching it plummet to the pavement. “I’d better turn in.” He said, scratching his head and exhaling the remnants of smoke from his lungs, the warm air burning at his nose and rolling across his upper lip. “Can’t be late for the first day.”

            Yoochun grumbled a half-hearted goodnight, remaining fixed in his position against the balcony as Yunho slipped back inside their cramped apartment and into his room.

            He kicked off his shoes and changed into his pajamas, forcing himself to lie with the familiar feeling of dread that had washed over him and fell into a familiar ache in his bones.

            ‘Dislike’ was a tremendous understatement. Yunho hated kids. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why his parents thought being a teacher would be even a remotely good fit for him. But, he needed the money, and wasn’t exactly in a position to refuse. Thousands of people had the same exact job, he consoled himself. It couldn’t be that bad.

            He allowed himself to drift off, letting the dread escape from his body as he fell into a comparitively peaceful sleep.

            Morning arrived much too quickly for Yunho’s liking. His alarm clock blared in his ears, oddly reminiscent of his own high school years, waking up day after day with the sunrise and dragging his heavy limbs from the comfort of warm sheets.

            He sat at the edge of his bed and groaned loudly, stretching his legs and rotating his ankles, trying to somehow remove the exhaustion that had settled in his joints while vowing, as he did daily, not to drink so much anymore. He got dressed and gave himself a quick once over in the mirror, admiring the way he looked in proper work clothes rather than the ragged t-shirts and jeans he spent the majority of his time in.

            He crept into the bathroom quietly, careful not to wake a sleeping Yoochun, who usually spent most of the day in bed. Yunho had learned ages ago not to wake him up while he was sleeping – unless he was for some reason interested in facing the wrath of a beyond furious and frequently incoherent Yoochun, which, it was safe to say, he never was.

            He inspected himself in the mirror and sighed as he ran his hands along the stubble that had formed on his chin. Though he was in his late twenties, still fairly young, he couldn’t help but feel old as he stared at his reflection. He felt like just yesterday he was in high school. It was difficult to fathom that he would now be a teacher at the place where he felt he should still be a student. He couldn't help but worry he would be promptly fired once the inevitable truth - that he had not a single clue how to be a functioning adult - was discovered.

            Without another thought regarding his rapidly increasing age yet unexpectedly diminishing maturity, he lathered up his chin with sliver of soap, shaved, grabbed his keys off of the living room table and headed for the elevators.

            He really wasn’t used to being awake this early. The noises seemed muted, the colors even more so against the still much too dark sky of the morning. Against the dull ache of the world's awakening and faded half-lit scenery the noises of his footsteps and the roaring of his car seemed even louder than usual, each noise grating at his tired ears as he drove as slowly as possible to school.

            The building was looming, the reddish black of the brick walls reminding him of his childhood. The very recollection of the days spent in his own prison of a school made him sick to his stomach.

            His shoes tapped lightly against the bleakly colored not-quite-gray-yet-not-quite-black linoleum floors the school seemed to be covered with, walking with slow steps to prolong the inevitable. He nearly scoffed when he saw the classroom marked so clearly with ‘Mr. Jung’, the bright white lettering against the plaque looking much too official to actually be for him. 

            He was greeted with a familiar face upon entering the door. “Ah, Yunho. You’re here.”

            “Oh, Mr. Kim,” he said, inadvertently snapping upright and straightening out his posture, something he never did, as he spoke. “Good morning.” He said, extending a hand in his direction.

            “We work together now. Just call me Junsu,” he said with a smile, firmly fixing his hand into Yunho’s grasp. Due to the various pointless meetings Yunho had been forced to attend, meetings mostly spent by idly wasting time in the back of the room and pretending to pay attention, he had met Junsu on several occasions prior to this one. However, Junsu was the head of the language department, and Yunho always felt the need to be incredibly polite around him. He was the one who technically gave him the job – not to mention he was his boss. And even though Yunho knew he would hate working here, he still appreciated someone going out on a limb for him like this and giving him a chance.

            “Junsu, right. Sorry.”

            “Are you nervous? First day, after all.”

            Yunho frowned. Nervous? Not in the slightest. In fact, it was the exact opposite. He had spent most of his time plagued with an absolute feeling of dread, the idea of ‘nerves’ never crossing his mind for a second. They were just a bunch of kids, anyway. There was absolutely nothing to be nervous about.

            “A bit,” Yunho lied, feeling like that was the answer Junsu was expecting from him - the answer that would make him seem like he actually gave a damn about whatever it was he was doing there. Junsu patted his back. Although the touch was nothing but friendly, Yunho couldn’t help but tense up, the slight tightening of his muscles remaining, thankfully, unnoticed by Junsu, who left his hand fixed firmly on his shoulder. From a young age Yunho had never been all that big on human contact, and the feeling had only grown stronger as he got older.

            “Don’t be. Just follow the lesson plan. You’ll do fine,” Junsu said. Yunho decided right then and there he quite liked the sound of Junsu’s voice. It was a bit of a surprise, seeing as Yunho was never really quite comfortable around Junsu. It was nothing against the man personally – he really was nothing but kind to him. But Yunho had always had a bit of an issue with authority figures, a certain kind of arrogance, or maybe even competitiveness, that made him subconsciously dislike anyone with more power than himself. “I remember my first day teaching. I was a lot less calm than you are right now!” Junsu said with a laugh. Yunho tried to smile, but it wasn’t all that convincing. He wasn't sure he liked the advice, though admittedly friendly. He couldn’t have been that much older than him, five years at the most, yet he spoke like he had all the experience in the world.

            Yunho sighed and cursed himself for his disrespectful thoughts. The man did have more experience than he did. He had a right to speak to him however he wanted to. Yunho had absolutely zero ground to complain, yet he still couldn’t quell the rising feeling of competitiveness that boiled up in the pit of his stomach. Perhaps their closeness in age made it even worse. The man was just a few years older, yet still much more accomplished than Yunho was, and judging by the way things were going in his life, more accomplished than he’d ever be.

            “Anyway, you’ll do just fine,” Junsu chimed in, snapping Yunho out from his slight daydream dragging him back to reality.

            “Thank you, Mr. Kim.” 

            Junsu tapped his temple playfully, his lips curving upward into a dry, noncommittal smile. “It’s Junsu now, remember?” He said, though the both of them knew full well that Yunho would never address him in such a manner. “Class should be starting soon. If you need anything, I’m just down the hall.” Yunho nodded again before watching Junsu exit the room swiftly.

            He sighed and glanced over the room, eyeing the sea of empty desks that would soon be filled with kids who didn't even want to be there - perhaps the only thing he had in common with them at all.

            Even though Yunho had spent a good portion of his life overseas and his English was near perfect, he still doubted he’d be able to actually teach his students anything. Not because of his own teaching abilities, which he was sure were up to par – though since he had never really taught anything officially, it could very well just be have been arrogance speaking – but rather due to the students themselves.

            Though Yunho felt quite old, he still could remember his high school years with ease. When he really sat and thought about it, it wasn’t all that long ago. He remembered full well the crushing boredom, the complete and utter disinterest, the longing to just go home and forget all the information that various teachers had attempted to cram into his unwilling brain.

            He didn’t expect anyone to want to learn a single thing, and Yunho didn’t blame them for a second. School, he thought, was nothing more than a giant waste of time - a holding place for the kids no one could figure out what exactly they were supposed to do with.

            If they were unwilling to learn, then they wouldn’t learn. It was as simple as that. But Yunho didn’t particularly care.

            As long as he could do his job, get out and get paid, as far as he was concerned, it had nothing to do with him.

            His head snapped up as he heard the door open, his heart sinking as his new students walked in, looking completely bored by the start of the new school year. That is, until they spotted him at the head of the classroom.

            The reactions were about what he expected. They were surely used to older teachers, never someone quite as young as Yunho was. Their glares were slightly cautious, wary, even, but there was a look of excitement, almost eagerness in their eyes. He noticed a few groups gathering, speaking in whispers and sending the occasional glance in his direction. A few students let out loud laughs before their classmates eagerly quieted them down, shooting nervous looks at him to see if he had noticed, which, of course, he had.

            But what he noticed most of all was the one student who didn’t seem to even react.

            In the midst of his swarming classmates, amongst a sea of quiet whispers and excited glances, he simply took a seat against the wall, placed his bag next to his desk, and sat propped up on his hand as he stared off into space.  

            There was something about the boy that was slightly unsettling to him. Maybe it was the way his full lips remained slightly parted against the heel of his hands, his look of distraction, a look that should have been all too familiar, somehow eerie to Yunho. Or maybe it was the way his eyes seemed just a little too dark, a bit glazed over as he continued to stare at nothing. 

            Or maybe it was the way that, even though his face seemed tired, he seemed to glow with an odd beauty that for some reason didn’t garner the attention of his classmates. While other people were reuniting with each other after a summer’s distance apart, he simply sat alone, lying against his hand and looking at the wall.

            While others talked and shouted and even hugged each other, not a single person approached him.

            “Everyone, please take your seats,” Yunho said from the front of the room, voice commanding yet not too harsh, serving its function as the students scattered to their desks to find seats beside their friends. “My name is Mr. Jung, and I’ll be your new level three English teacher,” he eyed the room carefully, the students staring in awe at the new teacher, so excited for a change that they probably couldn’t even hear a word that he was saying.

            Yunho smiled inwardly.

            Maybe that’s just what he wanted.

            Though he had vowed that morning not to drink much before work, and breaking his promise on the first day was not exactly the start of a good pattern, he couldn’t resist when Yoochun had suggested they go to their favorite bar. Though he, admittedly, hadn’t put up much of a fight.

            “Yunho, are you listening?”

            “What? Sorry. I was spacing out,” Yunho admitted, running his finger along the rim of his glass. He couldn’t get the image of that boy out of his head, those vacant eyes, that pitch black hair, the strange stare he wore all while never even taking so much as a pencil out of his bag. The whole time he simply sat there with at his empty desk, looking up at Yunho with a strangely unprovoked anger in his face.

            “How was the first day?” Yoochun asked, the mocking smirk that lived on his lips somehow stronger than usual. Yunho sighed and downed the remnants of his drink before slamming the used cup on the table. The liquid burned as it slid down his throat and warmed him from the inside out. He called the bartender for another, ignoring Yoochun’s look of judgment that he could see out of the corner of his eyes.

            “," he grumbled. Yoochun laughed, his eyes curving along with his lips in that strange characteristic smile that seemed to shout 'I still haven't mastered the art of making facial expressions yet.'

            “You need to be more open-minded," he said, propping his feet up and sitting with them tucked beneath himself like a child.

            “No, thank you." Yunho graciously accepted his drink from the bartender and downed it all in one gulp. He just wanted to get the image of that boy’s eyes out of his head. That haunting stare and that unwarranted annoyance etched beneath his eye

           “Another," he demanded, ignoring the scoff from Yoochun at his side.

            Yes, Jung Yunho hated kids.

            But there was something about this one in particular that he hated even more.

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Wooooo first chapter! I never know what to say in the first A/N. Well I guess I can start by thanking you guys. 70 subs on a foreword? Wowwww.... Thank you so much ^ ^ I'm really excited for this story and I hope you are, too. I've been wanting to write a Yunjae foreverrrrr. (All my Breaking Innocence readers, is it weird that I'm writing something not SHINee? It feels weird for me... I'll get used to it!)

Not a lot to say cuz not a lot has happened yet. Oh well. Things will happen :P

Thank you all for subbing! 

-Gelisi