A/N: hey check it out an update (please note that this is not edited even tho i had like half this chapter written out for a month already. idk why it took me this long). anyway, enjoy :) this turned out a lot uh... weirder than i thought it would

Chapter 3: Professor Oh

Obnoxious ringing of his phone makes Lu Han lurch over his bedside to fumble for his phone, only to roll himself right off the mattress. Sprawled on the carpet, the blonde groans and squints his eyes open. His phone continues to blare Love is a Song (a running Bambi joke that Lu Han still doesn’t find very funny, but Manager Kim refuses to let him change it, that complete arse) innocently.

Lu Han fumbles to answer it, just to shut it up.

“This better be good.”

“Seriously. Where are your manners, dear?"

This is turning out to be a terrible morning, Lu Han decides. He considers hanging up, but knows from experience that it is definitely not worth it. If Lu Han had inherited anything from his mother, besides her beauty, it would be her persistence.

“What a beautiful…” he glances at his clock and continues with dripping sarcasm, “7:30 in the morning, my good lady. Is that better?”

“Much. I just wanted to check up on my only son—”

Lu Han exhales in a huge gust, lifting a pale leg to draw circles in the air. “Okay, cut the bull. It’s too early for that. Actually, it’s too early for ing anything but sleeping, so how much money do you need?”

“I can’t even call to check up on my son? I’m your mother. Why do you always think I’m after your money?”

“Because you are,” Lu Han snaps, dropping his leg and sitting up on the ground, any hope of salvaging a decent mood gone. “How. Much? Before I hang up?”

“Such a rude kid. I didn’t raise you this way. Anyway, I was thinking of opening a salon—”

Lu Han nearly falls back to the floor. “You know what? Call me back later. I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Lu Han—”

“Bye, Mama.”

He snaps the phone shut before she can reply. 7:34. He still has two hours until his first lecture.

“This is rich,” he mutters, dragging himself to his feet. Phone calls from his mother make his skin crawl, and he gets to look forward to another one later in the day. He stretches out the kinks in his arms.

Sunlight streaming in from his window makes Lu Han cringe away in fear of damaging his perfect idol skin. He stumbles to the bathroom, only managing to trip over one hairbrush along the way—it’s an improvement, at least. Lu Han's not only well-known for his astounding beauty, but his otherworldly clumsiness as well.

He might as well get ready, now. There’s no way he can sleep with the worry of his own mother driving him bankrupt.

--

Stepping outside, Lu Han quickly gestures for the AWSSAM shield him with an umbrella. The boy does so without a comment, already used to Lu Han’s quirks and general fussiness. They make a wild dash for the inconspicuous van parked just across the street.

“I cannot believe you’re making me do this,” he sighs, sinking into the plush seat the moment the door shuts behind him. Manager Kim peers over his shoulder before turning back to the road.

“This is for your own good. You can’t be a star in Korea without properly knowing the language,” the man says wisely. Lu Han restrains any strangling urges, only because he has an image to maintain. He can't ruin it with jail time.

“This is for your own good,” he mimics instead, crossing thin arms over his chest. “You’ll eat your words when the kids there flock me to death. You’ll be an accessibility to murder!”

“Accessory, Lu Han. Accessory. This is exactly why you have to go to school.”

“How would I know that? I'm no ing law student!"

“You stop talking back to your hyung!”

Lu Han scoffs. “I’m not talking back. This is called responding to probation!”

“It’s provocation, for ’s sake!”

“Oh, pish-posh apple sauce. You know what your problem is? You’re just too serious about everything, my dear baozi—”

“I’ve told you not to call me that.” Manager Kim’s knuckles have turned white against the steering wheel and Lu Han briefly considers treating the guy to a spa treatment. He’s really too uptight.

“See what I mean? You’re no fun at all.”

“… Let’s just sit the rest of the ride in tense, uncomfortable silence, okay, Lu Han? Can we do this?”

“If the AWSSAM is okay with it, I am,” Lu Han declares.

Manager Kim thumps his head against the steering wheel. "Why."

“It’s Kim Jongdae,” the AWSSAM grumbles, but Lu Han is too busy searching himself on Naver to listen or care.

“What the hell is this?” he squawks. “They totally photo-shopped this hair follicle on my chin! I do not have chin hair follicles! Feel!”

Jongdae considers throwing himself out of the van, like those action movie stars do, except he’s not an action movie star, and Lu Han has a surprisingly strong grip on Jongdae’s hand as he rubs it on his chin.

Well, the pretty boy really doesn’t have any hair follicles on his chin. How is that even possible?

--

Sehun arranges the papers on his desk. He shoves the projector out of the way to make room for his briefcase. The class has already filed in, and he tries his best to ignore the tittering of the female population as they eye their new professor.

It’s unnerving, being stared and judged like fresh meat, and Sehun knows that even after 253.7 years of teaching, he would never get used to this.

Bracing himself, he turns to face his young audience as the clock strikes 9:30.

“Welcome. This is advanced Korean literature, and I am Professor Oh. You may call me Professor Oh, and nothing else,” he adds when he spots a hand raising. It drops immediately.

Continuing on, Sehun paces across the room, his impending presence commanding the attention of the curious, human faces staring up at him. “Throughout the course, we will be speaking not only about the structure and construction of the language, but also the—”

The class simultaneously turns at the sound of the door opens with a loud, echoing slam. Sehun clenches his fist around his notes, crinkling the sheets, at the loud interruption.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Standing at the entrance with a hip cocked, and donning an outfit only appropriate for the runway in Sehun’s eyes, is Lu Han. Who is most definitely not sorry that he's late, but Sehun can only grit his teeth and pretend he doesn't know.

He doesn't like to think about fate, but it's hard not to in the face of national sweetheart Lu Han.

--

“Sorry I’m late.”

Lu Han beams, revelling in the attention of every single pair of eyes in the room. As expected, his name erupts from their lips, soon forming a cacophony of incoherent sounds and the flashes of camera phones.

He strides down an aisle, flashing sweet smiles and winks along the way, as he makes his way to the tall professor. Lu Han stops in front of the man and rips off his sunglasses, finally looking up at—

“You,” he gasps. “Again? Seriously, I’ve had my share of stalkers, but you. You are effective, I’ll give you that much.”

“Lu Han-ssi, I would ask you to take a seat. You are disrupting my class.”

“Your class?” Lu Han peers up though his lashes at the stoic face staring down at him. “You’re a professor? You barely look 25.”

“Please. Take a seat.” The man looks like he's trying to solve a difficult puzzle with only the aid of a deranged monkey, and Lu Han finds it terribly amusing, if not worrying.

“Yes, sir, professor-stalker sir,” the star laughs, patting his "stalker" on the shoulder (he ignores the way the man flinches) and saunters over to the nearest seat. "Do continue!" he calls with a little wave from his window seat.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sehun sets his papers down carefully. "Phones away, or I will have to ask you to leave."

Groans echo his order, but Sehun is remorseless. He stubbornly looks everywhere but at the bright-eyed boy, whose stare he can feel biting at the side of his face with rapture. "No recording devices are permitted to be used during my lectures. Now, the first assignment will be a diagnostic..."

--

After three gruelling hours of verb conjugations and vocabulary dissection, Lu Han sidles up to 'Professor Oh' as the rest of the students file out of the room in random clumps of unimportant-ness.

Lu Han already feels generous by gracing them with his presence.

"Professor?" he asks innocently.

The man tenses before turning around, really warily. Lu Han rolls his eyes.

"It's okay. I know I make you nervous. But hey, believe it or not, I'm still human, just like you!" Professor Oh makes an odd sound at the back of his throat, but the blonde plows through. "Anyway, I'd just like to tell you that I'm not going to do this essay, so give me some other assignment, okay?"

There's a long, uncomfortable moment where Lu Han is pinned under a dark, heavy-lidded gaze.

"... No."

"Great! I— Wait. Did you just say no? Don't you know who I am?"

"Yes. Yes. I don't care. I'm busy. Can you leave?"

"What, are you incapable of sentences longer than three words? Are you incompetent? And why are you using informal speech with me? I'm probably older than you! You should be calling me hyung."

The heavy-lidded gaze turns almost incredulous. "... No."

Lu Han throws up his hands. "Oh my God," he moans, slipping into Engrish English. "Are you for real? I'll do something else for your diagnostic, okay? I'm only taking this course to make my manager happy, so if you could—"

"No."

"Just—"

"No."

"Let—"

"No."

"... How about—"

"Yeah, no."

With a scream, Lu Han launches himself bodily at Professor Oh.

--

"Your first day. Your. First. Day. Lu Han. I can't believe you."

Manager Kim looks almost rabid with his eyes sharp and menacing, and red blotches dotting his cheeks.

"Not you, too," Lu Han whines. "That three-words-per-sentence thing is so bloody annoying!"

"You're lucky he didn't sue you! Sehun-ssi was kind enough to—"

"Sehun? His name is Sehun? Finally, I have something to write in my Death Note—"

"Lu Han, focus! This is serious!" Manager Kim grips the steering wheel with one hand, and in the other, he's texting viciously into his smart phone. Lu Han knows better than to berate him for text-and-drive at this point. "You know this is going to look so bad for you on the tabloids. You physically assaulted your professor."

"The classroom was empty," the star says, petulant and sulking in the backseat.

"You said you weren't sure whether it was or not because you were too 'blinded by unspeakable wrath and fury,'" Manager Kim deadpans. Lu Han concedes defeat on this front.

"I have every right to defend myself. It's self-defense. There are too many men like him in society these days," he says wisely.

"... Lu Han?"

"Yeah?"

"Get out of the car. I don't want to talk to you right now."

"Wow. You are so rude. You're going to regret it one day that you weren't nice to me, when I become all pale and sickly on my deathbed—"

"Go!"

"Okay, okay!"

--

"... Stupid Kim Minseok. Stupid Oh Sehun. I hate you all! You're vile! I'm Lu Han! I don't ing write essays! If I wanted to write an essay, I'd have went to med school! I—Ow, what the —who put this table here, anyway? Oh my God, am I breaking out? Oh, no, I'm not, hah, it's just a piece of fuzz. Thank god, I mean, I never break out. Not even a hair follicle breaks out of this flawless skin. ... OH SEHUN, I HATE YOU!"

Sehun reclines his chair and stuffs a pair of headphones into his ears. He's really considering moving out now. He inwardly considers sound-proofing the walls, but is he's quite certain that it wouldn't work. Even if he didn't have super-human hearing, Lu Han's voice certainly makes up for it.

"Where the is my Death Note?" is all Sehun hears before the world is drowned out by soothing baritones and the soft sounds of flutes. He shuts off his mind, tries not to think about his unpredictable, next-door starlet, and tries not to think about sweet smiles and trusting eyes.

He tries not to think.

TBC