Since Mr. Byun's extremely motivating talk at the basketball court, you've been putting in more effort for your architecture subjects. Though his words were hurtful, they were definitely impactful as well. Sehun doesn't know what's gotten into you, seeing how hardworking you are lately for your non-science subjects. He actually thinks you've been possessed by the spirit of some architect.

"I read online that if I do this, the ghost in your body will leave you."

Your best friend starts opening a new pair of red chopsticks he specially purchased just for this experiment. This is the second exorcism he's trying out despite you telling him that you're fine. The fact that you said that Mr. Byun's words were an eye opener for you made him think the architect spirit inside you is somewhat evil.

"Give me your hand."

All you give him is a weird look so he grabs your wrist forcefully. The moment he positions your pointer finger between the two sticks, you snatch your hand away. He looks at you with wide eyes, surprised by your sudden reaction. 

"Don't look at me like that!" You scowl. "You could have decapitated my finger!"

"We need to give it a try, at least!" Sehun insists, reaching for your hand again. "I want my best friend back."

You roll your eyes, getting up from the couch and making your way to Sehun's room. He comes in after you've laid down on his bed. It is a Saturday afternoon and you've come over to Sehun's place to escape your father. He always wants you to either study for your architecture subjects or to help him out at his shop. You've had enough of the subject for the week and you definitely don't need extra lessons on it. But now that Sehun is trying to torture you, you think you'd rather be in your father's workshop hurting yourself instead of being here and having your finger cut off by a pair of red chopsticks.

"Quick, let's do this," Sehun urges as he sits next to you, taking your hand again.

You flip to the side. "Go away, Sehun! I told you I'm fine!"

"That's what they all say. And then the next minute you'd be speaking in several voices and strangling everyone you see." You glare at Sehun. He shrugs as he tosses the chopsticks into the bin, "Fine. Do whatever you want, just don't come haunting me."

"You're stupid," you roll your eyes, pushing Sehun's arm.

He goes to sit at his desktop to play his computer game while you decide on a nap. You're already sleeping soundly when you feel an acute pain on your hand. It feels like someone is trying to cut off a finger or something. First, you scream as loud as you can. Then, you open your eyes and start slapping the attacker's head.

Sehun yelps each time your palm pounds on the top of his head. He immediately lets go of the stupid red chopsticks and the pain on your finger finally ebbs away. You stand up abruptly, hitting Sehun on the arm painfully.

"You do that one more time and you'll be my ex-best friend!" You yell and point a finger at him. "This house is no longer a safe place. I'm leaving!"

With that, you dramatically stomp out of the room, down the stairs and out the door. You think that you'll be safer in your home, but the moment you step into the house, you're met with your father pulling on a coat. He brightens up at the sight of you. You warily enter and close the door behind you.

"My sweet, beautiful daughter!" He chirps, now taking his coat off. "Will you do your old and exhausted father a favour and get him some materials from the supply shop?"

"But—"

"Yah, you ungrateful—"

You quickly stick your hand out with your palm facing up, "Money." Otherwise his unhappy rant would go on forever.

Your father grins, quickly taking his wallet out. "Wouldn't have asked for another daughter!"

You roll your eyes and let him know, "I'll go up to get my scarf."

You jog up the stairs as you sigh. Though this is better than helping him out in his workshop, you'd prefer it if your Saturday was errand- and pain-free where you could just relax and rest from a hard week in uni. But you shouldn't be complaining since your father is only asking you of this rather simple task.

You grab your thickest scarf from your wardrobe and leave the room with your purse. Your father is waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a note and his credit card.

"I wrote down everything you need to get. You know the code to my card, right?" You nod and he beams at you. "Thanks, my sweet, beautiful and kind daughter!"

You shake your head, chuckling. You take the card and paper from him. Your father opens the door for you as you keep everything in your purse. You make your way to the bus stop and wait patiently for your ride to come. You don't have to wait long before you're seated in the slightly heated vehicle.

It's almost winter season now and the weather is getting a lot colder than you would like. You're glad the bus is warm and that you had remembered your scarf. On the way to your destination, you take the note out of your purse. You look through the items you need to get and you're not at all surprised that you don't know most of the materials your father wants you to get. It would be easier if your father only designs like an architect does, but no. He actually builds things too.

It used to be a hobby for him, but now he's receiving money for doing what he likes to do. And as his one and only child and daughter, you're expected to take over this line of job. Doesn't help that your father has his own business too. Most of your injuries are usually obtained from trying to help him with his making of objects more than anything else.

You soon reach your stop and take the short walk to the supply shop your father always visits. You've been on errands with him, so you know where the shop is located at. The bell chimes when you enter the shop and you immediately feel besieged by shelves and shelves of materials you have never seen before. Every time you're here with your father, you only stay by the counter until he's done shopping for his own things. But now you have to look for his items. It feels like you're in an entirely new country where you don't know even a little bit of their language.

You go to the counter after deciding to just have the staff to get the items. However, someone calls your name just as you approach a staff. You turn around and see Mr. Byun staring at you. He's just wearing a pair if denim bermuda shorts and a t-shirt. And even holding a basket for his purchases. Sometimes you forget that teachers are normal people who wear comfy clothes, too.

"Hey," he murmurs, his eyes subtly taking in the visuals of your entire body. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello Mr. Byun," you greet softly. You hold up the piece of paper, "Have an errand to run."

"Miss? Is there anything I can help you with?"

Mr. Byun steps closer to you and shakes his head at the worker who had asked you the question. He replies for you, "No, she's with me."

The staff nods and walks away. You stare at your teacher. "You work here too?"

"Do I look like I work here?" He snickers when you blush. "I'm a regular here. The people here know me." Then he gestures to the piece of paper in your hand. "Let's see that list, problem child."

You pass it to him as you admit, "The only thing I'm familiar with is sandpaper. The other items... Not really."

Mr. Byun has a smile on his face when he turns to you. The way his eyes look at you makes you feel abashed and shy. You don't even want to start dwelling on it, lest describe it and how it makes you feel. He spreads an arm out towards the shelves.

"Find the sandpaper then."

You find it easily and grab it. It's easy with the signs above every aisle. Mr. Byun is impressed and you roll your eyes playfully.

"I'm not that stupid, Mr. Byun."

"Well."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Now will you help me find the other materials for me?"

"What do I get in return?" Your teacher teases lightly. "More attention in class?"

"I'm trying already," you swear. "I've been doing my readings too!"

"I know, I know," he laughs.

He stops walking and you do too. He reaches up the shelf for something that looks like marshmallow spread. Except it's not because it's being sold in a supply shop.

As he surveys the item, he murmurs, "I can see you trying, too. It's refreshing."

"I'll buy you cake," you blurt. Mr. Byun faces you with amusement written on his face, still holding onto the bottle of white stuff. You pink as you tell him, "There's a bakery around the corner. I've always wanted to try it out..."

"So why didn't you?"

He drops the bottle into his basket and reads the list again. You follow him when he walks farther into the aisle.

"I don't come here if my dad doesn't force me to," you shrug. "We leave straight after buying his things so he can start on his work pronto." Your teacher doesn't reply, so you mention just to ease the silence, "I really wanna try that bakery out though."

Mr. Byun hums, "It's not that great. I tried it." He takes another thing off a shelf without looking at it and drops it into the basket. You realise it's the same item he had gotten. "Do you like cakes? Or pastries?"

"Cakes."

"I know of a nice café with very good cakes." He pauses for a moment. "If your boyfriend is okay with it... and if you want to... I can bring you there."

It sounds tempting. Good cake? You're definitely in. But with a teacher? Not so sure about that. So you tell him, "I think my father might want his materials A.S.A.P."

"I can drop you home first," he keeps quiet for a few seconds again. "Only if you want to. No obligations."

"But..." Mr. Byun glances at you before inspecting another item your father had requested for. You continue, "You're my teacher..."

"And this is entirely professional," he says. "You have a boyfriend and you're my student. I know my rules and limits."

"I definitely wouldn't mind some extra credit though."

Mr. Byun chortles. He shakes his head, "You wish, sweetheart."

There are only a few more items to check off the list and you're done. Mr. Byun splits his basket at the counter and you pay separately. You keep your father's credit card in your purse while Mr. Byun voluntarily takes your paper bag from the counter.

"Thanks," you mumble when you walk out of the store with your teacher. It feels like it's gotten colder outside, so you adjust your scarf.

"Good thing you brought your scarf, I don't think I would've offered mine this time. It's freezing."

You laugh at your teacher's words. "I've always known you were a nice man. Especially when you pretend like I'm not around. You're wonderful."

Mr. Byun stays silent as he unlocks his car and this time, he doesn't open the door for you. He places the paper bags in the backseat while you take your seat in the front. When the both of you have gotten in and belted up, Mr. Byun drives off. He already knows where your house is, so he doesn't ask for directions again.

He finally speaks up now, "I pretend like you're not there because you pretend like what I'm teaching is impossible to get into you."

"Well, it is impossible. To me."

"Then you aren't really here. To me." You scowl in regards to his words. Mr. Byun glances at you. "Look, I treat people with respect, whether you're my student or not. I respect you, but if you don't respect me, I won't reciprocate."

You don't reply, only because you don't know what to say. Mr. Byun drives in silence while you stare out of the window. He turns up his classical music. Within 10 minutes, you've reached the driveway of your house. At the same time, Sehun is outside stretching to warm up for his daily jog.

"Is your boyfriend here to see you? Should I—"

"No, no, cake is on," you shake your head. Never say 'no' to cake, right? You mutter, "I'll be back."

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to grab your paper bag. You are aware of how close you are to your teacher. You can almost feel his breath hitting your ear. You quickly exit the car and Sehun is staring at you.

"Who's that?" He asks, trying to peer into the vehicle.

"None of your business, gossip girl." You push him away from trying to look into the window of the car.

"Are you still mad at me?" Sehun goes after you when you walk to your door, now completely forgetting about the mysterious chauffeur. "I was just trying to help!"

"I already told you I was okay and didn't need any help," you scoff. Sehun enters your home behind you. You shout, "Dad! I'm back! I'll leave everything on the dining table. I'm going out!"

Your father consents as he bounds down the stairs. You push past Sehun to open the door again. Your best friend follows you like an obedient puppy.

"Who are you going out with?" He asks again when he again sees the white car idling outside.  

"I'll be fine, stop worrying. Go for your run." You reach your ride, your hand on the door handle. You turn to Sehun, "My finger still hurts like a but I love you, so you're forgiven."

You enter the car quickly, hoping Sehun doesn't see who is behind the wheel. Mr. Byun confirms, "So we're going?" You nod and he immediately drives off. You know the question is going to come. You've already anticipated it. "Are the two of you fighting? Is that why you decided to have cake with me?"

"He was being stupid," you shake your head, promptly ignoring his last question. How do you answer that anyway? "We're fine. He'll be okay."

"He wouldn't be if he knows who you're out with," he murmurs softly.

"No," you agree. "He wouldn't."

The rest of the trip to the cake shop is quiet. But the silence is broken by Mr. Byun's phone ringing. You watch him fixing a Bluetooth earpiece into his left ear.

"Hello?" He looks like he is talking to nobody, you think. The caller must have asked a 'Where are you?' question because your teacher answers, "Gonna have cake... No, not alone. With a student." He doesn't say anything for a bit, but you keep your eyes straight ahead, not wanting to be rude and show him that you're eavesdropping on the conversation. Then he mutters, "What's wrong with eating cake with a student?...Female—"

Mr. Byun finally snaps after what you guess is another lecture, "Junmyeon hyung, really. You've known me for so long, you know I'm not that kind of person. I just met her coincidentally, okay? And she very nicely offered to treat me to cake. How do I say 'no' to cake?"

You can't help but let out a giggle. Who knew Mr. Byun likes cake too? First, classical music and now, cake. This man is of an unusual species. He glances at you laughing with a small smile on his face.

He answers his friend on the phone, "I know. I'll talk to you again later. Bye."

He presses a button on the earpiece and immediately plucks the device out of his ear. As he drops it in the middle console, he mentions, "That was the teacher who helped you with the lab book."

"Mr. Kim?" He nods as confirmation. You ask politely, "Why is he so uptight about you having cake with a female student?"

"Us teachers have rules about dating our students. We're not allowed to date them, no matter if we're certified tutors or just students teaching. There's even an entire section in the teacher hand book just dedicated to this forbidden relationship."

Mr. Byun waves a hand in dismissal confidently as he mentions, "But don't worry about it. No one's broken this rule in decades. And I definitely won't be the first to."