Jisung

The living room was completely still, save for the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. Jisung slumped on the couch, his fingers drumming a restless beat against his knee. Final exams loomed on the horizon, and his parents, in their infinite wisdom, had decided he needed a tutor – as if having another person breathing down his neck would magically fill his head with knowledge.

The Han household was empty at this hour, which was business as usual. His parents wouldn’t be back until late, leaving him entirely alone with the stranger they’d hired. He had protested, of course, rolling his eyes and arguing that it was a total waste of time, but his opinion didn't carry much weight. The next four months of his life were now officially dedicated to cramming information into his head. A sharp knock at the door broke his train of thought. Dragging himself to the entryway, shoulders heavy with resignation, he pulled the door open. And froze. The man standing on the threshold was nothing like he expected. Tall, sharp-jawed, with an observant gaze that caught the hallway light, he instantly made Jisung’s mind go blank. He’d braced himself for some graying academic type, maybe a stern instructor with glasses perched on the bridge of their nose. Not this. The man smiled, polite but measured, and Jisung suddenly remembered how to function. He stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter.

— Jisung, he managed, his voice thankfully steadier than he actually felt.

The tutor nodded.

— Nice to meet you, Jisung. Where should we set up for our session?

The question was simple, but Jisung was still stuck on the way the man’s voice sounded – smooth, deep, and nothing like the dry monotone he’d been dreading.

— Uh. The living room’s fine, he stammered, clearing his throat. — Unless you prefer a proper table?

The man’s lips quirked, just slightly.

— The living room is perfect. Lead the way.

Jisung nodded. This was definitely going to be a long four months.