In hindsight, maybe signing up for an introductory gender studies class on impulse had been a bad idea. Kihyun sighs, fumbles his way about the Arts building, trying to find his tutorial class. He’s never had classes here before – never had to step out of the music department really – and he’d given himself half an hour to find the right room to avoid being late. The thing is, maybe he’d severely overestimated the amount of time he needs because he’s just gone up the stairs and already, there it is. Room 03-01. Found with 22 minutes to spare. Great.

Kihyun peeks through the sliver of glass on the wooden door, lets out a breath when he finds it empty. Good. He can work on his composition while he waits, he thinks, except apparently the view from the door had a blind spot, because there’s already a student in class, bent over the table, cap obscuring his face. He’s dressed in a light grey sweater and plain black joggers but somehow manages to make it look good. It’s probably the build, Kihyun thinks, eyeing the muscled arms, thick thighs and prominent pecs.

“Hi,” he accidentally says, before he remembers this is a stranger. This was never an issue with his regular music modules. Kihyun sighs a little and the guy looks up.

“Hi.”

There’s a tiny smirk on his lips, curled and plush, and it’s attractive but that’s not the only attractive thing about the stranger. His eyes are bright, his fringe messy under the cap in the I-spent-ages-perfecting-my-bed-hair look and Kihyun’s first thought is he looks like a boy, followed swiftly by no no no.

His mouth clamps shut, and he scoots to a seat near the back without saying anything else.

He knew signing up for this class had been a bad idea.

Five minutes before class, students start streaming in. By then, Kihyun’s barely managed to fill four bars on his scoresheet but he’s noticed a dozen useless things about the unfairly attractive boy. Things like how he wears those faux diamond earrings (his ears stick out under his cap) or how nicely he filled out his sweater, back muscles shifting when he moves. How he’s constantly scribbling something on the stack of papers in front of him, then slumping and sighing, peeling his cap off to run a hand through his hair. Some of the things point towards boyness but other things don’t really add up – like how worn his shoes are, how his bag is barely holding itself together, how diligently he’s filling up his stack of notes – and in the end, Kihyun gives up trying to form any more assumptions about the maybe-boy. He’s just another student in the class, albeit one of the few male ones in this module, and honestly Kihyun could do without interacting with him for the rest of the semester. Or so he thinks, until the minute hand of the clock hits twelve, and boy (not-boy, whichever) stands up.

“Hello. Thank you for coming to class on time. I’m Lee Hoseok, and I’m your TA for this semester.”

His voice is warm, smooth. And then he smiles, a proper one instead of the small smirk earlier, and it’s even more attractive than before and well, there goes Kihyun’s plan of not interacting with not-boy his TA Hoseok.

“You know, for some one that you’re not supposed to care about, you sure spend a lot of time talking about him.”

“Who,” Kihyun asks, not looking up from his score. The quavers he’d drawn are blurring together and he’s erased the melody enough times that the paper’s grey in spots. Minhyuk jabs him in the side after a while when he doesn’t continue, and Kihyun rolls his eyes. “I didn’t even mention his name.”

Minhyuk just sighs, too used to Kihyun’s antics, but he does make it as long and exasperated as he could to annoy him. Kihyun ignores it, mostly because he’s used to Minhyuk’s antics as well, but also because he’s sort of right. “Well, that doesn’t solve the problem, does it? You’re still talking about him. I know your ex did a ty thing but like –”

“Minhyuk,” Kihyun gets out, suddenly tired. “I don’t really want to talk about this.” Minhyuk stops suddenly, mouth still open mid-sentence, and Kihyun softens a little. “Look, I know you’re trying to help but I’m just dealing with this the only way I know how, okay?”

It takes a while, but eventually Minhyuk just sighs.

“Okay.”

Cheating, as it turns out, is not one of the topics covered in the introductory gender studies course.

“Well, it was in last semester’s syllabus but they took it out this time. Still, you can write your first paper about it if you want,” Hoseok says when Kihyun hesitantly asks after class.

“Oh.”

He must have sounded as surprised and disappointed as he feels, because Hoseok’s brows furrow.

“Were you really interested in the topic or something?”

“No,” Kihyun cuts in before Hoseok asks anything else. His TA still sort of looks like a boy with his pretty features and well-built body, and even though that impression’s since been tempered after three weeks of seeing Hoseok’s unexpectedly dorky side, it’s not an easy one to ignore it when the guy turns up looking attractive as hell every time despite being in typical university student attire of sweatpants and t-shirts. Still, that’s what Kihyun tries to do – tries to think about how Hoseok goes over the lecturer’s summary every week with what is clearly passion (to the point where he sometimes stumbles over the ‘s’ sounds in his words when he gets too excited), tries to think about how Hoseok smiles really brightly and far too genuinely to hate on whenever his students participate enthusiastically in tutorials and, most of all, tries very very hard not to see Hoseok as just a beefcake. Because, even after just three weeks, Kihyun can tell that there’s clearly a brain behind that pretty face, and probably a decent character as well.

(Unlike him.)

Anyway, Kihyun really shouldn’t be focusing on his TA, nice as he is. He should be thinking about the paper he has to submit next week, a paper with a topic he’s researched for the last few days only to find out today during tutorial that it’s not in the syllabus.

“Eh, actually, it’s fine. I was just asking because it’s the only thing that was taken out from last semester’s syllabus, and I got confused ‘cause I borrowed a senior’s notes,” Kihyun lies. It comes out lame, but Hoseok can’t read him the way Minhyuk can, so it probably doesn’t matter.

“You can still write about it if you want,” Hoseok says, brows still creased. His nose crinkles a little between his eyes and it should look at odds with his overall appearance but it doesn’t. “If you want, I can lend you my notes for it so you would have some reading materials to start you off?”

The offer is unexpected, but then again, it isn’t. It’s something that Kihyun’s been realising about Hoseok in the short time he’s known him. The guy’s unexpected. A walking bundle of contradictions. Still, it’s not what he needs – not what he’s looking for – so Kihyun just shakes his head.

“It’s alright. I’ll just go for a different topic.” He’s one step out of the door, before he remembers. “Thanks for the offer though.”

Hoseok looks up from packing his things, smiles.

“You’re welcome.”

In the end, Kihyun ends up writing a paper about biuality, panuality and the erasure of these identities even in queer communities. The paper is rushed, research half-assed because he ran out of time and also, he had to rewrite his composition project with Minhyuk. He doesn’t expect to get a good grade, and he doesn’t, but there’s a long paragraph of comments at the back, with a small drawing of two thumbs up. He glances through Hoseok’s neat handwriting, then decides to stop by Hoseok’s desk after tutorial ends.

“I… M