Roughly $0.60 of Kim Kibum’s hot, bitter cup of morning slap was abruptly splashed out when a desperate pair of knees collided against his desk, slightly spraying the exam reviews in front of him.

However, despite that it was only a quarter to ten and his inner living dead hadn’t yet been revitalized, suddenly the rest of the $2.00 wasn’t so desirable anymore. In fact, drinking the rest wouldn’t have a difference with the….exasperating armpit currently stuttering his non-deoderalized apologies.

The professor’s lips spread thin as dark, baggy eyes flitted up to Lee Taemin. Just the eyes.

The youth stared back blushingly, ignoring his throbbing knees. “I didn’t mean…I could go make more copies for you if….”

Key leaned back and crossed his arms.

“….but I guess I should watch it, eh?” Taemin chuckled nervously, biting his inner cheek. “Don’t wanna be benched next game for…you know…because I hit my…”

A slow blink.

And Taemin’s smile finally fell –you know, like how you shrug down those pair of jeans that have mysteriously become too tight overnight- after a second or two more of simmering, effeminate-eyed persecution. Eventually, true to his nature, he went to scratch the back of his neck with a small frown, a glance to his left and a low mutter.

“I said I was sorry, sh-

Professor Kim cleared his throat deeply.  For a guy who burnt his tongue just a few minutes ago, there was a lot of ice in his tenor. “Something you need, Lee?”

“Huh-Oh yeah! Right, right.”

Recovered quickly, didn’t he? Key’s line for a mouth quirked down one side as watched the boy in partial boredom; sighed inwardly as Taemin practically slammed his backpack on his desk and ripped a zipper open. After a little fishing and more awkward laughter, a piece of crumpled notepaper was procured; and then, and only then, did Taemin quit avoiding the condemning, black gaze melting into him like acid and skip backwards a few feet. Balling his lips, his cleared his throat quite obnoxiously and turned himself in a Beefeater.  Sans the red coat, fur helmet and the non-fidgetiness that gives those guys their names in the first place.

Key rolled his eyes and glanced at his watch. “Look, if you’re going-

“No, sir wait. This isn’t going to take long.” Taemin exhaled, gripping the sides of the paper. “I gotta tell…well…alright, I’m gonna be straight up. Just hear me out Big K.”

One eyebrow arched.

“I mean Professor Kim,” he tried to smile instead of smirk; and not too soon afterwards, there was a short, curt bow before Taemin fixed his face back to what he thought was asperity. “Uh, so about the writing assignment, the first draft-

“That’s due tomorrow,” Key drawled tiredly yet firmly, narrowing his eyes even more . Blink blink.

“Uh yeah…tomorrow.”  He swallowed. Shook the paper a few times to unsuccessfully to get rid of some wrinkles-like it mattered at that point- and exhaled again. “See, I uh, prepared this…speech for you in relevance to that paper sir…and I want you to listen to what I gotta say first before you get, er, mad.” A Converse clad foot dug into the shiny floor.

“Ah…so should I already know where this is going, Lee?”

“Its not like that sir! I mean…well…you make it sound like I didn’t do it at all!”

The English professor merely cocked his other brow.

Taemin’s head shrunk into its shell.

“Its not what you think sir,” he murmured a bit lower, shuffling. “I’m gonna explain….alright, ok, I’ll get on with it. Kay so I wrote this last night-sorry its so messed up , I didn’t have any more paper and my roommate was being stingy as fu-er, haha. Anyway. I wrote this and I’m going to read it to you personally because, well, I gots mad respect for you Mr. K, and I don’t want to see you disappointed in me…like you’ve been all semester.”

Silence.

“….right, so…public speaking course don’t fail me now? Haha. Yeah…” Cursing himself under his breath, Taemin blew a piece of hair from his face, squinted down closely at his paper and began to read

“Things I At Writing About.  By Lee Taemin…He snorted “Well, duh, who else, right? …Uh, yeah, that’s right. You’re not amused. Sorry. Moving on. First things I at writing about are domestic and/or everyday situations.  I try…and I fail Mr. K. Whenever I have to describe what a character does on a daily basis or describe their house or talk about typical, normal interactions with other characters...I feel like I'm not doing it right. Like I'm some idiot who doesn't know what real people do every day, I dunno.. It never feels accurate. And I feel like whenever I describe places, I'm not specific enough, and it’s not, like, that I have to use a shi-I mean a buncha words -big or small- to do it. I just feel like the amount that I write isn't specific enough. Like I should have already graduated from cliché or vague or typical descriptions. For example Mr. K, talking about a living room: instead of just saying there was a shag white carpet, I feel like I should go in on the manufacturer, where it was imported from, the feel of it on bare feet. …Yeah, I know the first two things aren't mandatory and the last part is pretty much universally obvious...but that’s how I feel…er…okay and then I put a sad face here. Just letting you know…ahem”

Key’s hard boiled stare slacked just a little. A dollop, much to his reluctance for some reason; how could he not have been even more peeved and, instead, mildly melted when he’d recognized that oh-so-coincidently, the very issue Taemin had pertained to one of the prompts on the list the students had to choose from for the assignment…?

Nope, nope, there it was. Leniency over; Key’s scowling gaze renewed full force. What was this punk up to? Was he really insulting his professor’s intelligence with this trash? Did he think Key was somehow unable to see through this act so unbecoming of the usually disrespectful athlete he was forced to see three times out the week? Ridiculous.

Meanwhile, Taemin had acknowledged him briefly…before quickly returning wide, fearful eyes to his paper. The slight, positive change in his professor too insignificant for him to have noticed anyway, in truth.

“So, the second thing-lovey dovey situations. All that romance and chick flick sh-stuff. Can’t do it Mr. K. I can never get into depth with lovey stuff. Probably because I'm not a lovey dovey person myself and have never been in a serious relationship. But I know there are writers  who write stuff like that effortlessly, even though they have probably never been with anyone before-and/or they've been exposed to couples like that in some way…I am not one of those writers.  I mean.... I just don't see how people can do it O.O I can get into depth with pretty much every emotion besides love and sap. I can even, to an extent, do fluffy, Bambi crap. But not love. I actually get envious of the stories I read with really well written emotions of love and it frustrates me so much that I try to stay away from those stories, no matter how good they are…wait, I didn’t mean to include that Mr. K…please disregard.”

Oh but by now, “Mr. K” was only a few incentives shy of cracking a smile. He’d already recognized this as the second prompt-even predicted Taemin’s next complaint would be about the third, naturally. Yet now, he was really absorbing everything. Now, he eyed the youngster with keen interest.

Too bad Taemin was too scared to check his teacher’s face again. He just kept right along

And thirdly Mr. K….I can’t write horror stories man. You know that one poem about that stupid bird who flew into the guy’s house and wouldn’t shut the f-wouldn’t be quiet about some Lenore broad? The one by that Poe guy? Yeah…yeah man. I can’t see myself writing something like that. You know I keep things light Mr. K, you know I’m always goofin off. So

either my stories turn out more FUNNY than anything, or they're not scary, they're just an interesting read....which is good and all...but that’s not what i was going for, yo!  Its as if I'm bluffing all the time, yo. "Warning, scary story" or "Genre: Horror, Thriller. Then “Sike AHA. Read as the bear attack between Billy and Jane turns into a jolly picnic”…yeah I put a crying face here, just to let you know… But yeah Mr. K. I try to write the scary stories and I end up writing a joke. My 6 year-old cousin wouldn’t even be scared…that’s sad yo. From creepy to HAR HAR HAR. It’s so wrong

“So I guess I kinda wrote this…asking you for you not to give me an F in advance. Or, or…give me another prompt? I’ve been busting my this whole week trying to write and…it just isn’t coming to me Mr. K.” Taemin winced as he sheepishly brought his face up from behind the paper, awaiting the explosion. Surely he’d really blown it with all the informalities and stutters.

However, all that awaited him was a really silent, really creepy smirk.

“Ahh…” Taemin glanced away after a while when he couldn’t take the stare anymore. Really, he’d much rather accept the glare from earlier. Red surfaced on his cheeks. “Mr. K…? You there?” He peeked over. Key looked like he was about to lau-Nope. Too late.

The student’s brows drew into an apprehensive frown at his English professor’s sudden outburst. He’d never heard the man laugh before, to be honest…and he’d thought it would sound more like a stale bark than a whimsy whiskered wizard’s…er…ok no.

“Hey, Mr. K? What’s so…hey, what’s the joke man? Can you let me in?”

Key shook his head, the laughter dying, His arms unfolded as he stood, politely, idly swatted the backpack off his desk and crossed his arms behind his back as he approached Taemin…who was thinking about aborting this particular mission.

Hands pushed out at Key’s nearing form. “Uh, look dude-sir. Sir, I don’t…you don’t have to come so close-

“So you come into my class with the notion, the claim, that you’re not a writer? Of all of the absurdities.” Another bell-like laugh. “Hey Lee?”

“Y-yeah?”

Loafers halted before high tops. Why, oh why, was this educational monster glowing?

“Do you know what happened just now?”

“…no?”

“You just contradicted the absolute  out of yourself, that’s what happened.” As Taemin struggled to keep his lower jaw hinged, Kibum beamed almost wickedly. “What you have just done, my dear boy, is totally disprove that you are not the literary weakling you identify as. Because while you were going on about why you can’t work with these prompts, the argument itself was detailed, organized, and thought out quite decently.”

He slipped the paper from a frozen hand, turned it around and practically shoved it in the younger’s face.

“A C+ at the least, Lee.”

Then it was jerked down, revealing a different kind of expression from the older man. A knowing spark in his eye, pursed lips.

“….I, um-

“I knew you could do it Lee. I always knew you could….which is why it baffles me to no end that you turn in work that is slapdash, brief and without taste whatsoever. You have a lot to say about nearly everything that’s put in front of you-God knows you never shut up in my class- and you have a unique voice.” The paper was stuffed into the pocket of Taemin’s shirt. “But I am always hesitant to ask, pray tell, why you hold back so much. And that is because I know the reason will upset me more than the fact that you do hold back.”

Taemin could breathe easier once the taller man backed up a smudge, no doubt asking for the reason with his infamous, browbeating stare. So really not that much of easier breathing.

He sighed.

“I’m on the baseball team Mr. K. It’s consuming.”

“I’m aware.” In other words, no give. “I am also aware that while you sit and needlessly fail my class, you are doing exceptionally well in all of your other academics.” That brow again.

But Taemin’s raised too, limbs nearly smarting on the desk behind him from jolting so suddenly.

“Huh? How-

“Yes, I’ve done my research. Like you don’t do when it comes to works cited pages.”

A sulking pout. “Snooping my grades? Is that even legal?”

“About as legal as the music in your iPod, young man, yet a teacher must even do what he can for his students even if he isn’t paid or instructed to.” He ended it with a hard, lingering look, and the intent of it did its job of folding his withering pupil. “Any other excuses, Lee?”

Taemin tried to stand straight, to emphasize his acceptance of such a challenge…he ended up a shakily speaking mess stuck between a hunch and a pole. Another dejected sigh, a deeper pout.

“Well uh…I-if you look at my high school transcripts…you’ll see I’ve never exactly been a Shakespeare. Every grade. Things just didn’t go right after my 1^st grade teacher made me write a rendition of Green Eggs and Ham. I think I was the first suspension that year, as a matter of fact…”

The professor only shook his head. Instead of commenting on such a “riveting” tale, he slapped a hand on the skinny kid’s shoulder with a slight rock. “In any case, Lee…I think I can help you.”

“Help me?”

“Yes, and I know the perfect place that we can get started. Your little argument was good, but I think taking a different approach and making an effort with one of the prompts you lack confidence in will do you some good.” Key’s smile turned a bit sinister. “Besides, you fail this paper, and you can kiss these prerequisite credits goodbye until you try again next semester.”

“But my dad will kill me…”

“So I take that as a yes, hm?” And even as he said it, the professor was already lopping off to his coat rack. Damn impulsive, assertive bastard. Taemin’s held up finger lost its fight just as the words of protest died on his tongue prior. His own feet carefully carried him to his backpack like he was on auto-pilot-and whether or not he agreed with this, Key would agree for him.

“Don’t you have other classes though?” He shrugged the bag on with a grimace. Still wallowing in disbelief. A bad feeling growing in his gut, and a weed of regret already gestating that he’d stayed behind to confront such a scary man.

“Thankfully for you, no. My next class is in the morning. Your period, to be specific.” He grinned toothily at Taemin, the grin quickly dissolving into disgust as he picked up his non-steaming cup and trashed it. The exam reviews were stuffed into a briefcase.

A chill ran down the boy’s spine. Yeah. He could do without the smiles.

“But Mr. K-

“Aren’t you ready yet?” the teacher snapped, yanking on his cap and earmuffs. “Up and at ‘em Lee, let’s go.”

Taemin’s lips puckered, yet before he knew it, his sneakers were squeaking against the tile as he nearly tripped over himself trying to catch up.

It only until they’d reached the professor’s surprisingly sleek ride that Taemin’d mustered up enough courage to speak. He was not doing this. He was not about to spend a day with the most hated tight- in school. He was not about to go break bread with the enemy…

Still…

“I was afraid to ask, but um…where exactly are you taking me sir? Are you kidnapping me now so we can go on a date?”

Key’s nose wrinkled with an accompanying snort before he slid into the driver’s seat. Taemin stared into the empty space for a few pointless, flabbergasted seconds, inhaling and expelling frosty, lung-pawning air; finally ripped the door open and climbed in shortly with crossed arms, throwing his pack in the backseat.

“Such a rich sense of humor,” the professor said dryly, eye balling him from the side as his gloved hand flipped on the heat. “Close the damn door, Lee,” he added, looking forward.

It shut with the hint of an attitude, and the seatbelt clicked with a gesture no less charming. Key merely sent him the death glare again before the engine roared to life and he began backing out of the space he’d come to smugly earn-with his name and all- after 10 years of being an educator at Taemin’s university.

“Always sassing me. Of all the preposterous assumptions.” He mumbled to himself as he reversed, hand clutching the passenger’s seat and eyes trained to the rearview mirror. Good thing too, because the silently mimicking lips below may just have made him blow a ing gasket.

Yet there wasn’t much a cherry-faced Taemin could say, think or feel besides utter humiliation once they’d reached their first light and Key smirked over at him.

“You made your choice Lee, and I hope you’d care for a cup of coffee.” An incriminating wink. “Besides, I’m sure you know relations between teachers and students are strictly prohibited? Course you do. Because if you weren’t my student, I think I may have already had my way with you since you insist on being naughty in my class.”

The embellished hacking, choking, and tearing reached its as soon as the light turned green, and Professor Kim couldn’t help but burst into a deep, evil cackle as he sped off like a bat out of hell.

Excuse him then. Coffee, not bread.