Lee Minho

"Bonjour, class!" Minho rested his cheek on his hand, not taking his eyes off the new French teacher. Han Jisung was a disaster for the classroom. Young, with funny round glasses, always dropping markers and blushing comically when the class got noisy. Minho disappeared within the first second of their meeting. "Today we'll be looking at the conjugation of the verb aimer—to love," Jisung wrote the word neatly on the board and turned to the class. "Who wants to try?" Minho's hand shot up instantly. Jisung blinked in surprise but nodded.

• Yes, Minho? "Je t'aime," Minho said in a velvety voice, looking straight into the teacher's eyes. "Did I translate it correctly, Jisung?" A chuckle rippled through the class. Jisung flushed, the tips of his ears turning crimson. — M-Minho, this is... "I love you." The textbook example is: "I like apples." And... call me teacher, not Jisung, “But I prefer loving you to loving apples,” Minho winked, causing the poor teacher to drop his chalk in a panic.