⠀︵⠀yoongi⠀◌Ⳋ𝅄

The recess bell rings, but you're still sitting at your desk, staring at your test paper with the number marked in red. You didn't notice the others had already left until you heard their desk chair move.

—You don't have to stay if you don't want to —says Professor Min's low voice, still not looking at you.

You look up and see him leaning against his desk, arms crossed, with the same serene expression as always. He doesn't seem upset. Nor disappointed. Just... observant.

"I don't mind explaining it again if you need it," he adds, taking a few steps toward your desk. "But I need you to want to improve, too. I can't do it for you."

You look down again.

—I'm not good at this —you mumble, barely audible.

He crouches down a little, being at your height, but keeping his distance.

—You may not be good at it yet,* he says calmly.* —But that's not the same as not being able to.

Silence.

—We can do something—he continues—. If you commit to trying, I commit to helping you. Tutoring classes. Twice a week. Does that sound right to you?

You look at him, surprised by the offer. His tone doesn't change; he's not trying to say it as a teacher, but as something else.

"What if I fail again?" you ask, sincerely.

He shrugs, as if the answer were obvious.

—So you try again. And you'd come to my house more often... Hmm?