Donghae can count around twelve heads, which is not as comforting as he had hoped it to be.

Those twelve heads have eyes attached to them, therefore, it is safe to assume they also have a nose and a mouth. Therefore it is also safe to assume they are attached to a body. Therefore, it is true to say that Hyukjae’s students are in fact real, living people and not a concept that only existed when Hyukjae talked about them. 

“This is Lee Donghae,” Hyukjae is saying, making Donghae stand up straighter. Right. That’s him. He’s the guest for this class, because somehow he got talked into it. “He is one of the finest Olympic athletes. You can ask him whatever you want—”

He trails off when his phone vibrates. Glancing at his phone and then at Donghae, he offers him an apologetic grin. “Apologies, class. Head teacher meeting happening right now. I shouldn’t take too long—twenty minutes at worst.”

“No,” Donghae accidentally slips out. Hyukjae his head at him. He’s sure all those twelve pairs of eyes are trained on him as if staring at a lab experiment. Donghae clears his throat. “No, you shouldn’t worry. You can be gone for as long as you want.”

“...Excellent, then,” Hyukjaw says with a voice that implies he can see through Donghae and he is very amused by it, even as his stance betrays nothing of the sort. “If you need anything, Ryeowook is around the hallways. Just call him for extra help.”

Donghae is not going to do that, because he’s the best of athletes and would surely not be defeated by a bunch of twelve year olds. Hyukjae pats his shoulder as he walks past him, which is the closest thing to an omen Donghae has ever experienced. The door closes behind Hyukjae, and it’s just him and the children.

Donghae stares at them. They stare back. When the non-verbal communication that he had so desperately hoped would happen with just his eyes doesn't happen, he turns his attention to the board. Math equations. He must have arrived right to interrupt their Math class, and don’t children hate this subject? Shouldn’t that mean they are glad for Donghae to arrive?

Most importantly, how does one talk to children?

“You seem to be doing Math,” Donghae starts, trying it out. The kids nod. Not a single word is uttered. “Is it… hard?”

One girl takes mercy on him. “I mean, it’s fine. The teacher makes it easy to get.”

Ah, finally! Common ground. “Hyukjae always makes everything easier,” Donghae agrees with a smile, relaxing ever-so-slightly.

A boy his head. “He teaches you about equations, too?”

Well. No. Did Hyukjae not mention that they’re married? Have these kids entertained the thoughts that Hyukjae is a bachelor and available for everyone, when Donghae is right there? Not that any twelve-year old would care that Hyukjae is single. 

“He doesn’t,” Donghae hurries to explain. Then, not quite sure whether to expose everyone to his marital situation, he carries on with what he knows he’s meant to do: he was meant to be asked questions about his job. He gingerly takes a seat at the teacher’s table, overly aware of how he’s not the teacher and Hell might open underneath him for taking this seat. “So, I have been invited to give a… talk. Does anyone have any questions?”

A hand goes up. Donghae nods at the boy. “Yes?”

“How old are you?”

Well, not those questions. He supposes it’s harmless, all in all. “Thirty.”

“Ohh, cool,” the boy nods. “I thought you were older. Like forty-five. I guess you’re young!”

Donghae his lips, suddenly hyper-aw