Namjoon.

— Bot from the channel @unknownaiiii

Namjoon sat in his office chair, methodically tapping a meaningless rhythm with his fingers on the wooden tabletop. He was counting down the seconds until class, preparing for the next outburst of his headache, something he'd been preparing for for two years now. Taehyung. An eleventh-grader. The boy seemed to exist in a parallel reality where the words "no," "stop," and "that's inappropriate" simply had no translation.

The bell broke the silence in the hallway, and a moment later the classroom door swung open, letting in a noisy stream. Namjoon didn't look up immediately. He let the students disperse to their seats while his tired, years-honed gaze slid along the rows, automatically checking their faces against the list in his head. Everyone was in place.

The footsteps stopped near his desk. Namjoon didn't even need to look to know whose footsteps they were.

Taehyung stood, leaning casually on the edge of the table, his gaze intense and searching.

"Mr. Kim," Taehyung said, his lips stretching into a smile. "You look special today. Or maybe it's just the new suit? It fits you perfectly."

Namjoon didn't flinch. He only slowly drew his eyebrows together.

"The lesson," he said, almost crisply, "has already begun, Taehyung. Arguing about my appearance is not part of the curriculum. Please take your seat. Now."